Pankaj was a drama enthusiast back at MSITK in our batch. He’d been fond of writing stories and often behaved dramatically even while discussing mundane topics. His eyes would fly apart or he’d roll them or issue an exaggerated laugh throwing back his neck, or look at you with brows drawn together as he tilted his head to a side, as if acting in a movie. We’d snicker behind his back at his antics; otherwise he belonged to our regular circle, closer to PS than to me.
“But Jitesh recently landed a job in the US,” he informed, referring to another common friend from MSIT Kanpur.
From what I remembered of Jitesh, he’d graduated in electrical engineering in our batch with excellent marks but preferred to stay back in India after getting employed in a high end EDA company in Noida. Like me, he never tried seeking a scholarship to the US after graduation for higher studies, so it was a surprise to hear he had arrived here to work after so many years of graduation.
“What happened suddenly? I thought he was a diehard patriot who'd never venture out of India,” I said. “What changed his mind?”
“You haven't heard him in recent times,” he replied with a snigger. “I talked to him recently. He sounded quite different- very bitter, actually. You wouldn’t believe it till you heard him yourself.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he'd never again set foot in that horrible, corrupt part of the world if he could,” PS said in a neutral tone, managing to keep any emotion out of his voice. “He wants to set fire to everything in his past.”
I was shocked. “What's he so frustrated about?”
“He was pissed off on many counts, starting with regularly encountering lousy public offices which harass citizens over just about any service related issue year after year, with no end in sight- whether in electricity, phone, gas, water- you name it and they’re waiting to trouble you.”
“Maybe, he lacked the patience to deal with them. Otherwise, one doesn’t leave one’s country simply on these grounds.”
“Oh yes, one does! I don’t know how you’re still stuck there. You’ve great patience, otherwise a victim always feels frustrated, desperate to lash out and break free of the system that harassed him.”
“Victim?”
“I can’t recount all the things he said- it would take too long- but I’m convinced that so much frustration can drive any sane person to leave his country in desperation,” he explained. “He was a victim of road rage just before he left India- which proved to be the last nail in his coffin.”
“What happened?”
“At a toll plaza leading to Agra, a car standing in queue behind him honked to hurry up. Jitesh was waiting to collect his change at the window- not his fault. But the driver of the car behind him walked up and abused him. When Jitesh protested, a few of the driver’s cronies joined him and started kicking the car and windows, saying there was a political VIP in the car behind. Jitesh literally sped away from the place with his family, without collecting his change, otherwise…”
I nodded to myself. It was sad. Road rage incidents were on the rise, with no sign of abating. “That’s bad,” I offered.
“Horrible!” he corrected. “These hoodlums think they own the roads. Brush their car and they pounce on you, ready to kill you.”
“I know.”
“Even if they hit you from behind, it’s your fault, not theirs.”
I chuckled. “I heard there are road rage incidents in the US too.”
“Don’t laugh; they’re not as commonplace here.”
“Whatever happened was bad with Jitesh,” I admitted reluctantly. “Perhaps as a nation we’re adept at driving away all the good, capable people and retaining the bad ones.”
“The road rage was the icing on the top. Otherwise, he was already fed up of the frustrating life there. He said he developed blood pressure by just hearing and reading of scams and corruption on a daily basis, witnessing the general apathy of leaders which led to widespread shortfall of basic amenities like water, power, health all around, and everything else. The usual rot stemming from zero governance.”
“Scams are worrisome, I agree. They can lick any country hollow.”
“That’s not all. What about the rampant friction in day-to-day life in literally every other aspect- power outages, broken roads, traffic mess, pollution, food adulteration, medical rackets, organ trade, rapes, murders, abduction of children, bribery in education? As if that’s not enough- what about the feeling of insult and repression the common man is subjected to regularly? It gets suffocating after a while, Jitesh said, and I absolutely agree. We need better officials and politicians for the taxes we pay. Sometimes I feel we’re very filthy.”
“Not all the country’s officials and politicians are like that.”
“Maybe not everyone- otherwise you too would have fled the country by now. But don’t defend, we all know how things are,” he observed with a chuckle. “The number of corrupt people there is only increasing.”
“Would coming to the US solve Jitesh’s problems?” I asked, instead of reacting to his tirade or going on the defensive.
“Why not? Life is cool here. In this country the common man can be sure of frictionless transactions at public offices, government offices and other places for his daily needs. Criminals and mafia have not yet taken over politics and governance fully. Day-to-day corruption and bribery is almost absent. It’s not crippling like it is in our country, which people would soon start calling the scam capital of the world. And as I said before, the quality of life here is good for Indians like us- excellent roads, great shops, uninterrupted power, inexpensive gas, water, phone and above all, safety.”
I felt rankled by his words, though at heart I knew he was right.
“Safety?” I said with scorn. “Back in India we keep reading of shooting incidents in US schools, colleges and marketplaces.”
“Those are sporadic incidents- fewer than in our country.”
“I hardly hear of shootouts in schools in India,” I countered.
“Maybe there are no shootouts in schools, but what about serial bomb blasts in marketplaces and streets, murders of elderly couples, robberies in residential houses in broad daylight even if the owner steps out briefly, hospital neglect and police apathy?” he said with vengeance. “RK, try reading up the world political scene. How many countries will you find where criminals are dealt with leniently and let off? Where criminals run for elections while in prison, and there is a nexus between some of the country’s political bosses and the mafia, and one hardly knows who among them is a traitor, neither does anybody have a clue whether the person offering the condolences after a calamity is genuinely remorseful or set up the ambush in the first place. I read online newspapers and pick up tidbits from my father when I talk to him, so I’m not entirely wrong- and you know it. What I said was just the tip of the list. Don’t compare the two countries, RK. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“I know rogues and hooligans are on the rise in our country, but not all politicians are bad,” I said lamely, feeling a bit of a hypocrite.
“It’s not a question of a few bad politicians or rulers- the whole bloody system is bad. A corrupt, rotten mentality is engulfing the entire nation like an epidemic.” He paused to see how it was going down with me, and then asked: “RK, you stay there, so you should be better aware of these things. I don’t need to tell you.”
“Everything seems frightening from a distance,” I said.
“Don’t give me that. I've been through it all myself; my parents go through it still. I might be a little out of touch lately, that’s all. The online versions of the newspapers do not always carry the amount of detail that local editions do. But I glean a lot of the information on current happenings from my father when we talk over phone, and I feel ashamed.”
I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.
“RK, tell me, has our country really become so bad?” he asked in the sincere tone of a seeker.
“What do you me
an?” I asked in a small voice.
“Can any society and polity deteriorate so horribly? Can the political bosses of any country be so shameless? I sometimes feel scared to even plan a vacation there to meet my folks. Frankly, I feel like an outsider at times.”
He did speak like a foreigner. I didn't wish to criticize my country in front of another countryman who’d settled abroad.
“No,” I replied at length. “India’s very good.”
“But Jitesh wasn’t lying. He's not alone. Remember, I've grown up there too,” he said, gathering evidence to intensify his attack. “You know it’s all true, RK. You need to pay bribes to get just about anything done.”
I maintained a studious silence.
“They occasionally issue wrong, inflated electricity, water and other utility bills and taxes- maybe on purpose. You need to first pay, then protest, but if you’re willing to pay a bribe your experience might be radically different. If you protest, you’re silenced mercilessly. Isn’t the experience of the common man somewhat similar- and oppressive- like his experiences during the British times when foreigners ruled over us? Is this the progress we’ve made after more than fifty years of independence? It seems to me we’re slipping into regression and repression of the worst kind. I’m aware of very few countries where hooligans rule the roost to this degree.”
In a sense he was right. Nothing had changed since he had left the country. In fact things had only worsened. I wanted to tell him so, but ego and a sense of embarrassment tied down my tongue. Secretly though, I appreciated his candid observations.
I was surprised to see so much pent up venom still present in my countrymen who’d left home long ago to settle abroad. Did they feel so strongly about improving their motherland’s living conditions? Perhaps many of them would return if things improved noticeably? Were they really happy abroad or did they feel discriminated against, and looked for avenues to return to their motherland, but the degradation of social, political and moral values in every nook and corner there repulsed them and kept them at bay?
“The sad part is the same householder bears the brunt of paying the income taxes as well as bribes,” he continued. “My father sounds quite frustrated at times, but at his age he has no choice. Most feel doomed. As a nation we seem impotent to control any of the rot. It’s difficult to find many countries where the leaders, who are the country’s political bosses, lack the will to bring about constructive reforms.” He sighed. “Anywhere in the world, if the regime is only busy plundering the nation to fill its own pockets, how can that nation ever make progress?”
He was actually right. I wished we were still in college, in our canteen, where I could come out in support of some of his arguments.
“I sometimes wonder what our elected representatives do to justify their term of five years,” he went on. “There should be an objective criterion to terminate their tenure before time, based on six monthly reviews, by general referendum for non-performance, instead of prolonging their term by voting among elected representatives of similar traits and taints who worry more about retaining their chairs and clout and misusing powers than the common man’s problems they were elected to solve.” He paused to check on me. “Hello? Are you still there, RK?”
I gave a low cough to indicate I was listening. “Some of those running the show might be bad, but don’t call the country bad due to that,” I said. “A country is what its people make it, what its leaders make it.”
“A few leaders cannot make an entire nation corrupt unless the mentality is widely prevalent and receptive to corruption. Whether it’s politics or business or day-to-day affairs of the common man- there are liars all around, lacking in ethics, constantly on the lookout for opportunities to cheat. The element of fear which creates hesitation in a person contemplating criminal activities is entirely missing. People openly flout the norms.”
“The common man learns by watching the leaders. For decades they’ve seen them neglect duty, indulge in corruption and witnessed how easily they get away every time. By the way, PS,” I asked quietly, shifting gear. “When you got a bad grade in college, what did you usually do?”
He was nonplussed by the sudden change in topic. “Bad grade? Why?”
“I remember you once got two out of thirty in a mid semester exam in thermodynamics.”
“That's right,” he said dubiously.
“What did you do after that- do you remember?”
“Obviously I studied hard. Why?”
“That's right, I too remember. You studied everyday, every night, till you got a 'B' grade in thermo. You even skipped dinner sometimes or ate skimpily, just to rush back to your books. You sacrificed your other comforts and sometimes your hunger. Why? Because you wanted to set right what had gone wrong,” I said. “You didn’t leave the college, saying it’s bad or chuck your books as useless on getting poor marks. You corrected what had gone wrong, and got good marks the next time. In my opinion Jitesh has just chucked his books. He's run away from the college.”
He trashed my reasoning immediately. “I don't think it’s a good example, RK,” he said. “The realities of life are much harsher than exam grades in mid sem exams. Jitesh would have simply made his own life and that of his family miserable had he continued there. Society wouldn't have improved. The loss wouldn’t be any politician’s or official’s, it would be Jitesh’s alone and no one would turn around to bail him out in his time of crisis.”
“Put that way, a common citizen has no power in any country.”
“Don’t generalize. Advanced civilizations don’t exploit their citizens. In our case, as a nation we like to exploit a person’s helplessness instead of bailing him out. In an advanced civilization, if an upright person protests against injustices meted out to him, the state doesn’t turn against him to silence him. In comparison, what do you see in our country? Aren’t we a nation of sadists? Do logic, rationale, and reasoning work in our country? It’s like jungle rule where might is right- goonda raj all the way, where it’s not a crime for the unruly and the powerful to steal and kill, but a crime for the honest, common man to point fingers at such thieves and murderers.”
“I admit there is criminalization of politics and unchecked lawlessness in the society, but it’s easy to settle down here and criticize one’s own country from a distance. The US might seem good during peaceful times, but during a crisis or widespread natural emergency, I’m sure you’d find them discriminating against the poor and the outsiders while prioritizing whom to save first. The mentality of those corrupted with power can’t be very different anywhere in the world- though I agree that during peaceful times, instances of discrimination can be ignored without feeling deprived or penalized since the comforts, facilities and benefits outnumber the other negative experiences. But you’d need to snap out of the illusion of material comforts and bias to acknowledge the truth of my statements.”
“You have no grounds to say that, but I’m justified in laying bare the facts of my birthplace. I’m not criticizing.”
“However you may term it, it doesn’t lessen the problems your parents, uncles, aunties, cousins, and friends face back home. Most would continue residing there. Someone has to face it. They’re the helpless ones who face it everyday. What kind of a person would leave them stranded and settle down abroad instead of remaining by their side in their times of need? It’s not the time for criticism, but the time for action.”
“Talk in practical terms, yaar. What can anyone do?”
“Plenty. First, we’ve to stop talking in practical terms. We need to be impractical and sacrifice our comforts to make a better country for our children. Simply criticizing wrongs is not being practical. It’ll not remove them. Subhash Chandra Bose brought freedom to our country once. He's not around to bring it a second time. We must do it this time. I don’t hold a grudge against the West for being advanced, but against ourselves for not trying to create a similar environment back home, though we’ve some of the brightest brains anyw
here. We settle abroad and pride ourselves in winning accolades for our achievements and making other countries prosperous- but when it comes to discussing our own country we simply sit over a mug of beer in the evenings and criticize it like outsiders and distance ourselves from it.”
For a change, he sat back to listen without interrupting.
“If we feel governance in the country is pathetic, offices are thriving with corrupt officials, there’s inefficiency and rot in an increasing number of politicians and leaders, law keeping officials and public servants- the answer doesn’t lie in running away, but facing it. We MSITians are supposed to be brainy. Can’t we try to get together to rescue the country for once? It would be the achievement of a lifetime in our temporary, uncertain lives.”
“It’s easier said than done. What can a handful of us do?”
“Why is it difficult? If a handful of our freedom fighters could fight against colonial rule with fewer technologies, don’t we stand a better chance with today’s modernization and facilities and funds? It’s a question of the masses coming together in peaceful protest. Some of the better politicians might join our cause too. But to bring the masses together a few of us have to lead the way. In this way we could combine to form a peaceful, civilian army to counter all evil rulers. They might imprison us, throw teargas bombs at us, even throw actual bombs to kill us- but how many can they maim or kill or imprison if the entire nation rises as one?”
“Maybe also stop paying taxes in protest?” he suggested out of interest, but quickly withdrew his support. “I still think the whole idea is impractical.”
“Why? In Subhash Bose’s time, initially they didn’t think of him as practical either. They thought he had foolishly chucked away an excellent professional career to dirty his hands in the freedom struggle. But later everyone acknowledged his tremendous contribution.”
“It all sounds easy to plan. But what can a citizen do alone?”
“Plenty. We first need to unite and agree on the purpose. After that we can thrash out the details of how to free the country from the corrupt and criminal minded. If peaceful methods don't work, if democratic methods fail, then we should pray for the rise of a capable, noble minded dictator for the good of the country- instead of giving up.”
Will She Be Mine? Page 14
