An Insufficient Democracy - The Defense of Arvind Kejriwal

The way people have been swayed over a period of two weeks is nothing short of unbelievable. Around the time of Christmas, AK was still being hailed as a messiah from the heavens, as a savior of the common-man, as the last bastion against corruption - he was almost called the son of God. Today, he is nearly a criminal: he is a fool whose understanding of politics and its nuances is worse than those who sit in their armchairs and spew venom on him.

"Delhi ka CM pagal hai", "He is an anarchist", "He is the Item-Girl of Indian Politics" - I don't think anyone in the recent past has been showered with as many vivid adjectives during such a short period of time. As the anarchist staged a dharna on the roads of Delhi, people fumed and cried foul. During the days preceding AAP's great run to victory, protests identical to this had become synonymous with the name 'Arvind Kejriwal'; they did, by no small measure, influence the outcome of the 2013 elections.

People criticized him even during those days, and they are right to carry on in the same vein for nothing has changed with Arvind Kejriwal. But why are his own supporters up in arms? What has changed now that the very same dharna has become unacceptable? Did the voters of Delhi bring AAP into power hoping that the Aam Aadmi Party would change its colours and become another Congress or a BJP? When you vote for a zealot, you will get a zealot - not a tame country mouse.

"Why did you not stage a dharna when a child was found abandoned in a rubbish heap a few weeks ago? Why are you silent, Kejriwal?" challenged a man who claims to be the Voice of India. Suddenly, the various times AK had not staged dharnas became important to people. Arvind Kejriwal was using these cheap tactics only to further his Lok Sabha ambitions. Everyone had something to say about the wolf in common man's clothing.

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." - The Man in the Arena, Theodore Roosevelt

When Delhi voted the AAP into an unprecedented second place, I was shocked like many others. Here was a man with absolutely no history in governance, and people had trusted him to go all the way in the capital of the country. Kejriwal, since the beginning, has maintained that his one goal in life is to eradicate corruption. To hand over the reins of a large city to such a man was always a risky prospect - but Democracy allows people to make such choices. And people made that choice when they undertook the risk: corruption had quite clearly leeched its way into their very bones and they took a leap of faith.

Today, Kejriwal defends the same promises that he made. He may be a fool, but he is not a hypocrite. This characteristic of his makes for a strange politician. Democracy doesn't support such men who walk their talk. Democracy is at its best when it does nothing; when people are lulled into a sense of security, they absolutely love their leaders. People may appreciate the talk, but they are averse to actions. In the great average that such a political system creates, a man with ideas stands out like a clown in rainbow clothing.

I am certain that an intelligent man in the CM's chair will not hold protests in Delhi's cold streets if he was able to solve his troubles sitting at home. Clearly unable to effect change from his chair, he came down to the roads in order to utilize the only method he seems to know. Whether this is right or wrong is debatable, but the people who voted him into power shouldn't really have a problem with it. He is, after all, only trying to deliver on his promises.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bones;

So let it be with Caesar.

The noble Brutus

Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest-

-For Brutus is an honourable man;

So are they all, all honourable men-

-Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:

But Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man. - Mark Antony, "Julius Caesar" - William Shakespaere 

"But Arvind Kejriwal is an honourable man" - I cannot help but draw parallels. The above speech ended with the words - "Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt". When everyone says the same thing again and again, even if it is untrue, it will become fact. 

Dialogue and opinions are an integral part of democracy. Everyone has the right to voice his or her views, but with media shouting its 'news' into peoples' ears, the aam aadmi no longer knows what to do. We must remember that the aam aadmi is one who laughs at Kumar Vishwas' racist and sexist humour; surely, such a man cannot hold his own opinions when he's being pummeled into submission by might of the Voice of India.

Arvind Kejriwal's goal is not in question; if his means to the goal weren't a problem to you before, it shouldn't bother you now. The vigilantes among his comical assembly of politicians have much to learn, but having brought a party into power, it makes sense to give them some time. Perhaps an insensitive haasya-kavi and a reckless Law Minister will go some way in eliminating corruption: two weeks is too small a period to develop opinions about anybody!

Most importantly, let us realize why we praise or criticize anybody. In this market of voices, we develop meaningless opinions in the hope that we get heard.

P.S. Every single person I know wishes for a corruption free India in which they alone can pay a small bribe and get their work done.

vigilantes

Laptop Buddha

The day was hard. Hardly enough time to breathe. Files piling up on the desk. For the first time in my life, I accepted coffee at my desk, instead of performing the usual routine of brewing it myself. Deadlines. People were like wolves, attacking me from all around, biting at whatever they got. They were hungry. For answers, for results.

A few men wilted. They went outside to catch the Delhi's wintry breeze, some men with Marlboro packets in their hands even before they left the building. Even the coffee machine seemed to be running out of energy. People were pacing, trudging, jogging... Beads of sweat on a cold winter day. The pressure was on.

I looked at the files and folders on my desktop, each was a solution. Each was an opportunity. Where would I be without all this data! Where would we be without all its computational power!

The more you give, the more they ask. The job is demanding, and fulfilling. There is happiness in the knowledge that you're an integral part of a system, which together realizes such powerful change. People press you for results; you push others. The computers are running wildly, pulling out figures and simulations. It's magical and devastatingly ugly.

Everything in its place, people dovetailing each other... Cogs. Clocks. Structures and targets. Everyone driving to a common goal at a relentless pace.

That was when my laptop fell down. It fell with a thud, halfway through a simulation, with twenty tabs open on my Chrome browser and half a dozen mail items open. I picked it up in a hurry, hoping not to waste time. Strangely, I wasn't greeted by the cluttered desktop. As I picked up the fallen computer, there was nothing there. Black screen.

Reboot.

Windows never turned on. "Your hard-disk has not been detected". Hyperventilation. More coffee. Sweat. People surrounded me. "IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?" It will be, I assured them. Work must not stop.

But what of all the data? How could all this continue if the chain broke down in the middle? People continued asking me questions, but suddenly there were no more answers. I thought the world would implode.

Strangely however, the questions stopped. All of a sudden, what I was doing wasn't important any more. The cogs went on, the clock ticked, the machine ran smoothly. And I continued trying to reboot the stubborn machine. Nothing. I called the IT Help Desk. They couldn't help immediately either.

I apologized to people, afraid I was letting them down. "It's okay," they said happily. "It happens to everyone." And work continued uninterrupted.

The irrelevance of the individual is deeply disturbing. Nothing you do really matters. Nothing in the world matters at all. In the morning, I was worried about all the files, emails, photographs and manuals which I would lose if my hard-disk wasn't revived. Even those things don't matter.

Nothing really does.

Assimilation

I looked towards my wall proudly, having meticulously redecorated it. Apart from the mahogany shelf riveted to the wall, upon which rest a few relics of our inglorious past, and the luxurious bean bag which rests majestically in one corner of the room directly in front of my 50 inch television screen, the hall is fashionably empty. The French rug which I imported for a fortune covers the marble flooring which has become so passé. I love my small, comfortable dwelling.

It is strange that one should feel at home only after ostracizing oneself from one's own past, but that is how I feel today. I feel better after getting rid of those garish colours - those curtains and teak-wood sofas, and those Ravi Verma oil paintings! I used Berger's new 'Black' theme for interior decoration, and all things now blend into this elegant hue. I've even purchased a grey designer suit and satin black overcoat from the downtown Walmart to go with my silver Aston Martin.

I think I'll take the Metro now, to the Mall road to fetch some Budweiser for the party I'll be throwing later tonight. I know the party's going to be swell. We even have a dress code - Men in dark suits and women in evening gowns. This party will be the talk of the town - with all the Barbeque and the Italian spread. I have even unlocked the back door so that the men can smoke their cigars in the balcony outside, while enjoying the mighty steel and concrete horizon which modern India proudly boasts of.

It is the year 2130. I am proud of the fact that there are no longer divides and rifts between the people of the nation - we have all become global-citizens. There are no longer problems of language - we all speak English. There are no differences in food - no Rotis and no Dosas - we all enjoy a double-cheese Margherita and a big Mac washed down with some Sprite. We've renounced religion which has been the cause of so many conflicts in the past! No temple, no churches and no mosques - so no problem. All places of worship in this secular land have become museums - some of the finest in the world! And modern dermatologists have succeeded in making us all fair, so we can accentuate our new skins with the profoundest of black. No American is able to tell us apart from his countrymen now - to hell with racial discrimination!

I'm so glad we have taken a broader view of things since 2100, shedding our bourgeois demeanour for good! Our schools have begun teaching us about George Washington and Napoleon Bonaparte as much as they do about C.V. Raman and Rani Lakshmi Bai. Our kids are taught ballet in school, just like some western institutions have started teaching Indian Classical. I'm just glad there are no divides in this world. Everyone has become the same person.

A Tale of Two Cities

Aeroplanes amaze me. Three hours and bang! Everything has changed. The gradual change of climate is simply done away with, the intermittent linking cultures obliterated and landforms simply restructured. All the while, you are sitting unawares wondering why that simple Vegetable sandwich cost so much.

I am home now; and I am glad. I have accomplished the task of enduring a day of wandering through the length of our country, only to find myself astonished yet another time by the immense diversity of our nation. While Gandhi employed the steam engine on his tour around the land to comprehend the sheer magnitude of cultural wealth India possesses, I am sure he would have been far more bewildered had he taken a flight like I did, thus highlighting these stark contrasts. Here is a tale of two cities (I omit the town) which I encounter, three hours off each other; each time I take the ride home.

The massive cash inflow into the DDA’s coffers is only apparent in the speed at which the pillars rise. The Commonwealth Games have given Delhi’s development a mammoth boost which, all going well, must give the Capital infrastructure close the World’s best cities. The weird aspect however remains the fact that the mighty Mughal capital has waited until 2010 to grow into a global city. I have often wondered what Delhi-ites were doing prior to their magic-Metro. With an abysmal bus-service which is known to kill more people than it transports and immensely congested roads inhabited by colossal vehicles, I’m amazed people even worked!

On the other hand, the land of the Tamil people has been rather supportive to its growing population. With an impeccable bus-service and omnipresent autos, albeit charging exorbitant fares to the unwitting Northie, coupled with much less clogged roads as compared to any of the other Big4, it has never been a problem to traverse the lengths of the seaside city. Another fact is that each area of Chennai is more-or-less self contained, something I never saw during my ephemeral life in Delhi. Call it Boon – owing to lesser travel necessity – or Bane – as each man sees so much less of his City, it remains an intrinsic fact.

With mighty pillars, strong and bold, each overpass seems to underline that power which Delhi so much wants to flaunt. Malls rising out of every nook and cranny; retail chains spreading like Virus; and more asphalt, steel and cement, only make apparent the Capital’s urgency to let go of those chains which restrain it. These, however are also those ropes which link Today with the past. Delhi is letting go.

On the other hand, the maritime city, 20^oC warmer, is hell-bent on holding on. The outlook is cautious; and though development will not be overlooked, no one seems to be in a hurry to shed the present image. Malls are few; the few stand tall. Anything built overhead is with miniscule pillars, built as excuses for Flyovers. Buildings rise, not as cement monsters but behemoths of steel and glass. Rayban, Ferrari and Gucci are taking their own time trickling down the rungs of society; much unlike 1000 miles away, where Connaught Place boasts of a mini Manhattan - people trying all too hard to don the image of the quintessential New-Yorker. But the cautious outlook down South borders on bourgeois, leaving me reeling in alarm.

While T-Shirts and Jeans have become unisex themes of Delhi, Chennai finds itself yet a melange of tees, shirts, saris, salwars, jeans, trousers and veshtis – maybe not the collegiate dream. While Delhi has jumped into hyperspace drive; still the temple of the Theist, Chennai somehow seems to encompass the past, present and the future, . IT corridors have slashed open the newest avenues of growth and the coast may soon serve as the Auto-hub of India, while Parthasarthy and Kapaleeshwarar shrines and the Santhome church will forever remain the heart of Chennai.

NCR is growing at light-speed, breaking every record it sets; but as a friend aptly pointed out – 75% of Delhi is well-developed, great; but 50% of its people still suffer for bread. I’m uncertain about the below poverty ratios of Chennai, but the far fewer less endowed settlements are evenly spaced out, clearly visible to the naked eye; not latent. However, the steps taken both here, and there, are encouraging. The Delhi Metro has me overawed, but I cannot imagine life without my beloved ‘29C’!

I’m definitely against Karunanidhi in his unintelligent calls for protecting what he calls ‘Tamizh Kalacharam’, but maybe there is something in me that wants to hold on. This is not a sermon, and I do not preach. Neither approach is better than the other, neither easier to accomplish. I shall terminate with Anthony’s great words – “Take thou what course thou wilt.”