Delhi Diary

Slap-Happy Masses

Nothing concentrates the mind as immaculately as a slap. Our raucous parliamentarians, who cannot seem to agree on anything, were uncharacteristically united over the physical assault on one of their own. Sharad Pawar has been the bane of my life (read Lucknow Boy for more details), nevertheless on two TV channels I unequivocally and unambiguously condemned the wallop—no IFS, no buts. Interestingly, throughout the past week, along with the condemnations, has come a veiled warning: this will happen, we are informed, if public anger with misgovernance is allowed to cross the tipping point. The public anger alibi has been much bandied about and given a certain legitimacy. It is about time it is exposed as bogus.

The public, which according to the famous song, sab janti hai (knows everything), is perennially angry about something or the other. It could be cross-border terrorism or peace with Pakistan or Naxal violence or railway accidents which cause Mr and Mrs Sharma’s blood to boil. It could even be rampaging mosquitoes spreading chikungunya. So public anger in society exists in some form or the other most of the time. If it becomes the justification for neta-bashing, we should prepare ourselves for an epidemic of prime-time slapping.

Besides, we are not living in Zimbabwe where inflation at last count was 5,000 per cent. Ours hovers around 10 per cent. Moreover, the imperfect democracy we live in still manages to put some of those who loot taxpayer’s money behind bars. Justice may be horribly delayed, it is not permanently denied. If we let the slapping mob loose, if we suggest that in the rarest of rare cases slapping is acceptable, we are on a dangerous path.

Team Anna mocks and ridicules universal adult franchise. Elections once in five years, we are told, is a travesty of democracy. But we have elections almost every year. Early in 2012, a mini general election will be held. And there will be more before the big one in 2014. If our public is itching to punish those it elects, that is the time to do it. Slap them at the ballot box.

August Lady

As 2012 approaches, besides the UP elections, there is equal suspense over who will move into Rashtrapati Bhavan when President Pratibha Patil’s term gets over around the same time. Meanwhile, this might be a good moment to look back and remind ourselves of the ugly debates which took place just before Pratibha Patil took the oath of office. The Opposition shouted itself hoarse insisting she was unfit for the job. Her limited experience was cited, her lacklustre record was cited, and then a corruption scandal was laid at her door. Her critics confidently predicted she would be a disaster as president.

Yet, if you look at her term as it nears its end, she has hardly put a foot wrong. She has been involved in no constitutional crisis, she has shown no inclination to favour the Congress, no controversy has visited the august office. One could go to the extent of saying she has been a copybook president, bringing both dignity and integrity to the office she holds.

Besides Mrs Patil’s innate good sense, I believe a president, even if he/she has the propensity to play fast and loose, gets sobered and sagacious by the awe-inspiring, formidable portals of Lutyens’ magnificent structure.

Going Ganjing Again

Writing a book is nerve-racking, but nothing compared with the marketing of the book the author has to get involved in. The creator has to go on an endless round of interviews from channels and publications he may never have heard of. However, since the unbreakable rule in publishing is to say ‘yes’ to every request, it can get a bit tiresome. One does it in the knowledge that it’s just for a few weeks—and that every bit helps to sell another copy.

My hometown is thrilled. Bollywood has overly romanticised and vulgarised Lucknow, while the academic literature tends to make the city seem like a historical relic. The few friends I have left in town are astonished that someone who was a renowned dud in school should have managed to write any book, leave alone one worth reading. I am greatly looking forward to formally launching my memoir in the erstwhile abode of nawabs and catching up with those of my mates who out of necessity or a perverse sense of loyalty continue staying on. Incidentally, Lucknow’s famous Hazratganj has been restored to something like its past glory, thanks largely to chief minister Mayawati.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and give an interview to the Poultry Journal of India.

Parmigiano Unplugged

My shameless plugging of my memoirs has to an extent been successful. I am happy to report Lucknow Boy (Penguin, Rs 499) is selling quite briskly at the box office. Not briskly enough to keep me regularly supplied with Blue Label, but Editor’s Italian cheese seems safe.