JNU row and the anatomy of hopelessness
About two and a half decades ago, as a student at University of Delhi, I once made a passionate argument in front of the vice-chancellor. I must have bordered on being reckless, probably unkind (never disrespectful though). After a patient hearing the great man smiled and simply remarked, "You know why Marx is still read and venerated? Not because he agitated, but he made seminal contributions living in extreme poverty and working in sub-zero temperatures in Europe." I didn't relent and shot off a long letter to him that I personally delivered at his official residence. The response: I was invited to his home next day over an afternoon tea with him. I took to academics partly because of him. He may have forgotten me, but I never did. What a role model Uppendra Baxi was! His tongue lyrically eloquent, his heart tenderly compassionate.
If there is one word that defines India of today it is "hopelessness". Hopelessness of individuals, of institutions and of ideals. We desperately need a Gandhi or Tagore to show us the way and restore the moral fibre. We need a certain Simone Weil, French mystic and philosopher, to invoke a Metaux, which Christine Howe describes as, "the existence of things that act as mediators, or bridges, between earth and heaven". What hope can one sustain amidst a cacophony of narratives - true, untrue, half true?
What is terribly disconcerting is that equivocal, acrimonious and partisan voices come from the most powerful echelons of our society - the politics, the media and the academics. Each one appears to have an agenda. The students, the teachers, the lawyers and the journalists are all part of a heady mix that threatens to overshadow every other and more crucial tasks that might be before us. Each of them is ready to call a strike, a march, a show down at the drop of a hat. The dance and drama of the impetuousness continues unabashed.
Why bother ask the union leaders and so-called ideologues, some of whom also happen to be teachers, when did they last publish a work of some significance or handle a national project? When was it last that a student told the teacher, "you changed my life"? It should worry us no end that such men and women must profess frontiers of knowledge to our young generation. You listen to them debate on TV channels; they quote respective convenient histories and events that suit them.
For some India began when Mughals ruled her and anyone who changes that date is saffronised. Yet for others India began thousands of years BC and anyone who accommodates her evolutionary passage is a traitor and must be so designated. Nationalism embalmed with a strange sense of moral superiority is dished out on a daily basis. Some feel obliged to rather irresponsibly invoke the "Third Reich" when referring to the powers that be today, without even realising what they say. The hyperbole surrounds us from all sides. Helplessness is all pervasive.
What a misnomer when a lawmaker takes his patriotism so seriously as to thrash a fellow countryman whose crime is that he belongs to the party of a different hue! Equally inexplicable is the anger of the gentleman against the finance minister, who happened to be in the court that day. But the bottom line - photograph that appeared next day in The Telegraph was a telling commentary on what we have become as a nation.
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Who are we to question the caliber and wisdom of the flag-bearing-lawyer brigade who bash up men, women, boys and girls over hearsay? They bring no other virtue to the discourse except for their overstretched muscle and abuse inside the courtroom or in the courtyard of the court?
Spare a thought for the lad whose namesake we hold very close to our heart - Kanhaiya. The name itself conveys a certain naughtiness! Imagine the plight of the young accused student in police custody being slapped inside the temple of justice. Our collective conscience seems to be brutalised. Whatever Kanhaiya's crime, what memory to carry in heart of his motherland where his brothers are baying for his blood. It must be acutely lonely for his age. It deeply saddens and shames me; it frightens me beyond words.
Equally worrisome, if not more, are the shrill voices of young students; they appear to have aged but not grown. They need not go down a path just because a certain ideology prods them towards it. But that is only understandable and also pardonable. All of us as students made troubles when young; some less, some more. "Youth is wasted on young", said Bernard Shaw. How true? It is for the teachers to course correct things if they go astray. The teachers must partake the blame, for if we fail to engage students in the classrooms, they will confront us in the streets. Let us think about it.
There should be no doubt in anybody's mind that many journalists would want to shame the government headed by someone whose politics they have always abhorred. They have a right to do so, but the administration foolishly and willingly has walked into the trap. While some must settle their own scores with today's dispensation for right or wrong reasons, the government is busy keeping the whole issue alive and on the burner.
Many news writers or their screens have themselves become the story; events are merely a sideshow as if irrelevant to the debate. There is little debate, only noise. These days we no more produce a Sham Lal, a Girilal Jain, or a CR Irani. A certain subtle Prannoy Roy seems to have gone out of fashion, unless there is an election or an economics classroom on TV (undoubtedly, he must be an excellent teacher).
Each day our sense of proportion and scale is slaughtered by all sides. Poise, restraint, empathy, grace - all appear to have gone out of our lives. Anger, brazenness, malice and rumour have taken deep roots; these seem to have already destroyed our minds and are now slowly making their way into our hearts. That will be the end of it. If our salvation is only in taking sides, I must confess we are doomed as a nation.
That said, there seems little to choose from the different sets of people - the students, the teachers the lawyers and the journalists. What differentiates them largely is that some of them speak slightly better language than others. On a larger point, it must worry the leadership in command, for they may be slowly walking down a path to ruin; partly of their own doing and partly thrust on them. But it is their call to douse this fire. Soon they must.
Lastly, Ravish Kumar! You are doing well; it is heartening to listen to a professorial journalist. Even though I listen to you occasionally and about 24 hours late, it is both worth it and worth the delay!