Just when you wonder whether things can get any worse, something happens to dispel all doubts. They can and invariably do. After hitting the bottom of the well, you are inclined to believe that now things must look up, simply because you can't sink any further. Instead, a new black hole opens up, plummeting you further into the depths.
The life and crimes of Bollywood actor Salman Khan prove this pattern. Black seems to dominate his life—black bucks, black money, black moods, even the black eye he gave his former girlfriend Aishwarya Rai. One would have thought his troubles have humbled and reformed him. Instead, his behaviour has only gotten worse. Bad enough, he recklessly drove back home late at night after downing several pegs of Bacardi, worse he killed one and injured three people, worst that he ran away instead of honourably rushing them to hospital. You would think his behaviour hit the bottom of the well—it can't get worse that worst! But you are wrong—this Bollywood Barbarian is so callous he sends his brother to retrieve his music system from the car! Shocked? But his brutish behaviour gets worse. He absconds for a while. When he realises his fame makes it impossible for him to hide, he surrenders and gets immediate bail on a Saturday. He is a free man but lacks the conscience to visit the injured in the hospital, let alone pay for their treatment.
How can anyone bear to even look at such a man? Till now, he was prancing about baring his chest. Now he has bared his soul. And it is black.
What is perhaps even blacker is the cynicism of the people. Everybody expects him to get away scot-free. In fact, everybody knows he will. How different and encouraging was the public mood just a few years ago when he killed the endangered bucks in Rajasthan. People were outraged. They wanted him punished for his crime. There was deep and widespread expectation—even demand—that the law must be equal for all. There was satisfaction when he was jailed. But subsequent turn of events proved that expectation was totally misplaced. We saw how he engineered a forensic report that the bucks died of overeating (mercifully overthrown by the high court), got bail, went back to shooting of the legal kind. In no time, it was business as usual. He was attending late-night parties, getting drunk, abusing colleagues, bashing acquaintances, attacking journalists, assaulting girlfriend—cheating on her, hitting her, banging his head on her door, disrupting her shooting schedule. The tumultuous pace of his life continued to careen at its customary breakneck speed. But he always got away, barring a few minor self-inflicted bruises.
If western democracies have succeeded, it's because they are law-abiding societies. People there are law-abiding because they know that if they violate the law, nothing can save them—not their status, celebrity or cash. Mike Tyson served time in jail, Timothy McVeigh is executed within a few years of his crime, embezzling ceos are manacled and taken to court. Black or white, rich or poor, famous or unknown, the law is applied quickly, rigorously and equally to all. This establishes a healthy climate of deterrence, so essential for a just and peaceful society.
But over the past decade, we in India have seen that every celebrity, politician, official or industrialist, or their progeny who break the law eventually gets away with it. Law never catches up with them, while the same law traps ordinary people, especially the poor—only because they lack the twin armour of money and connections. Now at 55, we as a nation have grown up, our eyes have opened, the scales dropped. Forget being idealistic, we're not even optimistic. We have all become realistic. And the reality is grim.
But cynicism is grimmer.It is pervasive and it's becoming more and more difficult to fight cynicism. Our collective strength, will and hope are depleting. Unfortunately, succumbing to despair guarantees a worse fate—things will only get worse, we will hit a new bottom, deeper and terrifying black holes will open up. So we can't give up this fight. Citizens, media and ngos have to focus on ensuring Salman Khan does not get away with this, that his lawyers don't get away with their patent lies that he wasn't driving, that they don't exploit legal loopholes, that witnesses are not bought off. Accidents can happen to anyone, but it is indefensible when it happens after a booze bash. He ought to be socially boycotted—not only for killing and injuring sleeping pavement dwellers, but even more for his unacceptable subsequent behaviour. He is a rich man. Moral and social pressure has to be brought on him to compensate the dead man's family and to the wounded daily wage earners whose injuries may jeopardise their livelihood. Law cannot be expected to do this. As the injured Abdullah Shaikh said from his hospital bed: "I don't have money to file a case for compensation. I only want to start earning again." It is we as a society that must create a moral climate that forces the actor to do the honourable thing.
This is a not a witch-hunt against Salman Khan, but a crusade against cynicism and our fatalistic, helpless acceptance of the growing rot. It is a campaign for justice, a campaign to restore our faith in the system, in basic human values. The danger with cynicism is that it kills hope and therefore any possibility of rectifying the situation. It is also dangerous because it paves the way for further moral degradation. This time, the only issue on which we as a nation was outraged was that Salman Khan got away with a bail of Rs 950. Next time around, even that won't shock us. One can cope with calluses appearing on our collective body and even mind. But when calluses start appearing on our soul, we have to stand together and fight.