In the year of our Lord Two Thousand and Eleven, it is no longer possible for mortal high and mighty folks to hide behind Constitutionalism for protection from public ire for their crimes. The fires that swept Tunisia and Egypt since January have since spread to Yemen, Iran and Jordan. Millions of Indians, disgusted at the way their political and economic elites have twisted the basic laws of the country for their selfish interests, are hoping that their own corrupt societies will be similarly engulfed.
Saturday Special, for the third week in a row, has focussed on the dangerous crossroads we Indians have now reached. With each passing day the sceptre of mass upsurge looms imminent in the near horizon. There are signs galore of a new awakening, and the discomfiture of the dominant elite became all too apparent when Prime Minister Manmohan Singh was forced to appear on Wednesday for an hour-long gruelling session before a clutch of TV channel editors. From the expression on his face at end of his ordeal, it seemed the father of India's neo-liberal reforms had gained a decade in age and shed a tonne in weight. Never before had an Indian prime minister been so fried.
On the same day, in another part of the country, the humble people of Barasat district in West Bengal staged a demonstration which seemed to some a precursor of a Tahrir Square. The previous evening, Kajal Das, a 16-year-old who was due to appear for the state secondary school examination in a month's time, was stabbed to death for resisting some drunks who tried to molest his sister Rinku. The poor boy was giving his sister, who works in a Kolkata firm, a ride home on the bar of his cycle when them miscreants stopped them. The most sickening aspect was that the incident happened just yards from the district magistrate's bungalow and Rinku's cries for help ("They are killing my brother") were ignored by the policemen on duty. The townspeople had been complaining for years against the takeover of the neighbourhood, incidentally the "VIP area" of the district but the well known police-babu-liquor don triumvirate had brushed aside their complaints.
Even as Manmohan weakly mouthed shop-worn excuses to disclaim personal responsibility behind the 2G and other scams, the people of Barasat were mobilising for a unique civil society demonstration. They blocked the convoys of all politicians, regardless of party, who tried to cash in on the tragedy. Even chief minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee was not spared. His convoy was prevented from entering the area to offer the customary empty assurances to the family of the young boy who had fallen so valiantly, yet unnecessarily. Slogans demanding he "go back" and desist from making political capital of the incident forced the CM's driver to dash into a side street where he got off the car and managed to find his way to the house. But ministers and MPs of the Trinamool Congress and other parties who attempted similar tricks were forced to return without anything gained.
Are we seeing the beginning of civil society rage? Well, for some time now there have been signals that ordinary citizens are no longer willing to outsource the business of protesting and rights assertion to the political class. Three generations of post-Independence Indians have watched with part-amusement, part-disgust the antics of its democratic elite. But now, after the 2G scam comprehensively exposed the politician-industrialist nexus, the 'aam admi' has become conscious of the inescapable fact that he is horribly lonely. Democracy has been reduced to humbug; cynicism is all pervasive. Therefore a Tahrir Square in India is a matter of time.
In fact, as Ramdev, the yoga guru writes (The Other Voice) it may be only a week away. On November 27 he plans to assemble 1 lakh people in New Delhi as a show of force against corruption. That is some achivement for an apolitical person because unlike partisan leaders who spend crores to get lakhs of people to listen to their silly speeches, Ramdev is appealing to the good sense of the masses. The man who has transformed yoga into a daily necessity for hundreds of millions of people worldwide has for some time now been talking of taking a political role out of a conviction that it is time our neta class was given the boot, attracts more than 2 lakh people whenever he articulates the people's anti-corruption sentiments.
The rage of the masses is something our politicians are not accustomed to. Fattened by industrial backers and lavished daily with the grease of sycophants, India's political elites have given democracy a bad name. When cornered with evidence of the corruption of his government, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh likes to retort "look at the economic growth". This is becoming a sick joke. Everybody knows who this 'growth' is for. India's economic 'miracle' is now interpreted as a bewildering phenomenon. People all over the world are asking "how is it possible for so few to own so much?"
"Mounam ardha sammati" should be Manmohan Singh's epitaph. This is a prime minister who has betrayed the concept of "honest politician". His professional background and non-political profile had prompted many to believe that he could make a difference. But he has emerged in the public perception as nothing but a puppet; a non-entity whom Sonia Gandhi chose because he could be a safe seat-warmer for her son when he comes of age. What, then, will be Manmohan Singh's legacy? The father of India's neo-liberal 'reforms' programme is today a mockery of his own image. He has brought down in a heap all the prized aspects of Indian nationhood. Sure, there are more cell phones, cars, malls, laptops, liquor brands, etc. than in the pre-1991 period. But couldn't all this have happened without unjust enrichment of the few?
Source: The Pioneer
Saturday Special, for the third week in a row, has focussed on the dangerous crossroads we Indians have now reached. With each passing day the sceptre of mass upsurge looms imminent in the near horizon. There are signs galore of a new awakening, and the discomfiture of the dominant elite became all too apparent when Prime Minister Manmohan Singh was forced to appear on Wednesday for an hour-long gruelling session before a clutch of TV channel editors. From the expression on his face at end of his ordeal, it seemed the father of India's neo-liberal reforms had gained a decade in age and shed a tonne in weight. Never before had an Indian prime minister been so fried.
On the same day, in another part of the country, the humble people of Barasat district in West Bengal staged a demonstration which seemed to some a precursor of a Tahrir Square. The previous evening, Kajal Das, a 16-year-old who was due to appear for the state secondary school examination in a month's time, was stabbed to death for resisting some drunks who tried to molest his sister Rinku. The poor boy was giving his sister, who works in a Kolkata firm, a ride home on the bar of his cycle when them miscreants stopped them. The most sickening aspect was that the incident happened just yards from the district magistrate's bungalow and Rinku's cries for help ("They are killing my brother") were ignored by the policemen on duty. The townspeople had been complaining for years against the takeover of the neighbourhood, incidentally the "VIP area" of the district but the well known police-babu-liquor don triumvirate had brushed aside their complaints.
Even as Manmohan weakly mouthed shop-worn excuses to disclaim personal responsibility behind the 2G and other scams, the people of Barasat were mobilising for a unique civil society demonstration. They blocked the convoys of all politicians, regardless of party, who tried to cash in on the tragedy. Even chief minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee was not spared. His convoy was prevented from entering the area to offer the customary empty assurances to the family of the young boy who had fallen so valiantly, yet unnecessarily. Slogans demanding he "go back" and desist from making political capital of the incident forced the CM's driver to dash into a side street where he got off the car and managed to find his way to the house. But ministers and MPs of the Trinamool Congress and other parties who attempted similar tricks were forced to return without anything gained.
Are we seeing the beginning of civil society rage? Well, for some time now there have been signals that ordinary citizens are no longer willing to outsource the business of protesting and rights assertion to the political class. Three generations of post-Independence Indians have watched with part-amusement, part-disgust the antics of its democratic elite. But now, after the 2G scam comprehensively exposed the politician-industrialist nexus, the 'aam admi' has become conscious of the inescapable fact that he is horribly lonely. Democracy has been reduced to humbug; cynicism is all pervasive. Therefore a Tahrir Square in India is a matter of time.
In fact, as Ramdev, the yoga guru writes (The Other Voice) it may be only a week away. On November 27 he plans to assemble 1 lakh people in New Delhi as a show of force against corruption. That is some achivement for an apolitical person because unlike partisan leaders who spend crores to get lakhs of people to listen to their silly speeches, Ramdev is appealing to the good sense of the masses. The man who has transformed yoga into a daily necessity for hundreds of millions of people worldwide has for some time now been talking of taking a political role out of a conviction that it is time our neta class was given the boot, attracts more than 2 lakh people whenever he articulates the people's anti-corruption sentiments.
The rage of the masses is something our politicians are not accustomed to. Fattened by industrial backers and lavished daily with the grease of sycophants, India's political elites have given democracy a bad name. When cornered with evidence of the corruption of his government, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh likes to retort "look at the economic growth". This is becoming a sick joke. Everybody knows who this 'growth' is for. India's economic 'miracle' is now interpreted as a bewildering phenomenon. People all over the world are asking "how is it possible for so few to own so much?"
"Mounam ardha sammati" should be Manmohan Singh's epitaph. This is a prime minister who has betrayed the concept of "honest politician". His professional background and non-political profile had prompted many to believe that he could make a difference. But he has emerged in the public perception as nothing but a puppet; a non-entity whom Sonia Gandhi chose because he could be a safe seat-warmer for her son when he comes of age. What, then, will be Manmohan Singh's legacy? The father of India's neo-liberal 'reforms' programme is today a mockery of his own image. He has brought down in a heap all the prized aspects of Indian nationhood. Sure, there are more cell phones, cars, malls, laptops, liquor brands, etc. than in the pre-1991 period. But couldn't all this have happened without unjust enrichment of the few?
Source: The Pioneer
