Saturday, November 21, 2009

If Shivaji came back.

The council of the afterlife carefully examined the application, and debated over it for a few years. Then they granted the applicant's wishes, with all the regular conditions ofcourse.

On a remote hill, in the centre of India,amidst the broken fortresses, a King of old reappeared.
His name was much celebrated, for he was the high king of the Marathis, and a few centuries after his birth- the overburdened bearer of its pride. Curious, he was- about how his land was and whether it had prospered.Now, his wish was granted. He could observe and speak, eat and drink. He could ofcourse claim that he was Shivaji...but who would believe. Even in the land of superstitions and Shivaji worshippers, he would be yet another actor. He had sixty earth days ofcourse, before he would have to beam back to the other world.

Much aghast he was, at the broken state of his proud forts. One after another, they were just mudpiles flying foreign flags and guides speaking strange tongues. The marathi they spoke was a strange too, but several hundred years would normally do that. He walked the land..through sugarcane and paddy, highways and hotels. He was crestfallen, to learn that there was a king no more and that his precious state was ruled by outsiders...from that ancient source of evil..Delhi. His work had been broken.

On a lonely rock, atop a windy hill, he lamented the loss of his kingdom. While in his anguish, in the far off distance, he beheld a mighty city...stretching down to the sea, glowing brightly in the overcast monsoon darkness. Over many a days he drifted into the city. In his time, this land was just wet marshes and islands. In the harbours, he could perceive a great many ships flying the same foreign flag. As was his reason for coming, he spoke to many- the fishermen who spoke his tongue, the driver of the horseless carriage who spoke another and the fire worshipping man who spoke a third. Mumbai the city was called.

He learned of how the world had changed since he departed to the next. He learnt of the British, the fight for freedom, the birth of a new India and the importance of Mumbai in this new nation.
It was not clear , whether he appreciated it completely. But, his opinion was no longer of importance. He had only come to see how his land was prospering.

He found that there were still some who claimed to defend his country for him. Infact, they seemed to believe exactly what he believed on his death bed. He wondered if they were his true successors. One day, he went to a large hall, where the shadows of people moved and spoke...larger then lifer they were. The shadows were descriptive of a man(we will refer to as A) who claimed that invaders from other parts of India had to leave his state. Shivaji, the courageous, found it hard to understand why A was being deified by an actor who was from the far north and a director from the far south, the very people who A wanted to be kicked out. It made little sense to Shivaji. Infact, it would make little sense to any one, why A was being deified.

Shivaji's time on this world, was once again ticking to an end. He,as was his nature, wanted to one last time defend his old country. He joined A's army and marched on a tall building. He put his club to good use and was once again in his element- the fearless king. In marathis defending outsiders, he saw traitors. In outsiders working to make Mumbai and themselves prosperous, he saw parasites. Such was his worldview, for he was from a time when the Marathas- feared warriors, fought hard to save their independence and their way of life. That, that time had gone, was not appreciated by Shivaji.

A's activities had set the city afire. Out with all those people who cant speak out tongue, they cried. Shots echoed in the distance, as the local government struggled to bring control. Shivaji ran now, trying to find as many invaders before the messengers of heaven arrived to get him. In the darkness and the melee of battle, Shivaji looked like one of those men from the north..yet, he did not realize it. At one corner, stood the army he had fought proudly for. Into their waiting arms he ran. He let down his guard and smiled. The smile froze, as he noted that a large sword had pierced him in the heart. He felt no pain, for his body was only a vehicle for his spirit. The body lay limp and the spirit of Shivaji drifted up into the world of the afterlife above.
He beheld with his senses, his lands once again...far they stretched, further then he could imagine. Beyond its ancient boundaries, the lands of his country stretched on. It seemed that his lands had grown and become part of a larger land...with wide hills, quick rivers and thick forests.
A light dawned on him. His time had passed.

Postscript: No offense to mighty Shivaji.Offense meant to several morons, who inhabit the 21st century but use brains produced in the 17th.

Sunday, November 01, 2009

Remembering Mrs. Gandhi, for what ?

I was seven months old when Indira Gandhi died.My dad apparently cried. A lot of other people cried and a lot of others- died. On the occasion of the twenty-fifth death anniversary, many have used the occasion to write essays that have been ubiquitously titled- Remembering Mrs. Gandhi.

My title does not imply disrespect, though I cant claim to have any real respect for her.
I am just disconcerted by modern day perspectives of Indira's contribution to India as described by several news outlets. It reminds me of the slogan- " India is Indira". We remember only her achievements,but not her crimes. Yes! crimes. I will not get into any of the hearsay and rumors that have circulated about her and the way she governed. She was an Iron lady etc and fought the Congress syndicate to become prime minister. So, yes, she was a hard knuckled politician. In this character, she was responsible for the dismissal of the first democratically elected leftist government in the world (in Kerala). She was also responsible for the rise of the extremist movement in Punjab, one that eventually lead to her death.

She also ushered in the era of institutionalized political corruption and incompetence.Her abolition of elections of Congress leaders ensured that only her cronies,not people of talent, were in power. By annointing Sanjay Gandhi her sucessor, she made a mockery of democracy and set an example that Shivsena, TDP and DMK have managed to replicate with much efficiency.

Then, ofcourse, there was the Emergency. India has actually had multiple emergencies. However, only one is reffered to as "The Emergency". In her hunger for power, the Iron Lady hammered democracy into cutlery to serve herself,her family and her closed circle of fawning courtiers.Much has been said about the emergency and I will not go there, except to wish that we dont ever go through another again. I dint live through one and dont want to live through one.

Those of us who want, remember her as Kali- the decimator of Pakistan. But I urge you to consider one important statement. Liberating Bangladesh was no doubt a great military victory.
It possibly increased the confidence of Indian citizenry, but arguably made no lasting contribution to India. On the other hand, her methods to guarantee her political power have poisoned democracy, governance and India itself.