Do you know who Nikhil Wagle, Nilu Damle and Sudha Kulkarni are? Few in India would have heard of them. They are not designers, fashion models or airheads who flit through Page 3, so their recognition value is probably nil. They are heroes, ordinary people with extraordinary grit. They were the trio who filed the public interest litigation against actor Salman Khan and got his crime converted from a minor offence of rash and negligent driving to the much more grievous culpable homicide. In the bargain, his bail was also cancelled with the courts asking him to pay Rs 19 lakh in compensation to the victims.
Thanks to the media we know that this trio went ahead and did something to make the star accountable—unlike the rest of us who whine and wring our hands in despair, but stop short of doing something about it. Though well intentioned, most of us are ultimately sterile because we are cramped by laziness, cynicism or cowardice. But these three have demonstrated the power of civil society. It is this, and not the mere holding of elections that will make our democracy healthy and meaningful. If Coke has dropped Salman Khan or Chhagan Bhujbal, deputy chief minister of Maharashtra, is keeping a lynx eye on this case, it's because they recognise the need to respond to public demand.
But thanks to the media, we still don't know much about this trio. So obsessed is the media with the froth in our society that they fail to see the foundations. People like Nikhil, Nila and Sudha are the pillars of our democracy. Reading asinine stuff about Miss World-turned-actress Priyanka Chopra gushing about her forthcoming films is so utterly boring. Instead, it would be interesting and illuminating to read about this trio. They are like you and me, so what makes them tick? What makes them trudge that extra mile to make a difference, to change things for the better, to make our system accountable?
The trouble is the media feeds on aspiration. The reality is that most of us cannot aspire to be a Miss World because we are too old or ugly. Many of us don't want to be one because our interests lie elsewhere. But most of us would appreciate fame, or at least recognition, if it came our way, even though we may not hanker for it. So why doesn't the media, instead of feeding on aspiration, focus on inspiration? They could inspire the public by making celebrities out of ordinary people who have done something more meaningful than drinking champagne in glittering parties. This would go a long way to encourage say-gooders to come out of the closet to become do-gooders in the public arena. In the final analysis, we all have a personal stake in keeping our democracy vibrant. That's something that cannot be achieved by remaining ensconced in our cocoons. For too long, we have abdicated responsibility, choosing the soft option of blaming politicians instead of turning the searchlight on our inaction.
When it comes to the media, it's a situation of damned if you do, damned if you don't. The media focused heavily on the Salman case, becoming a catalyst to public anger. That drew criticism from a few about the trial-by-media syndrome in India. The criticism's valid, but only up to a point. The reason why there is this phenomenon of trial by media is because too often our judicial trial is a barren process, dragging on for years without bearing fruit. The conviction rate is abysmal, so justice is never done, let alone seen to be done. The desire for justice and fairness that lie within all of us is frustrated and unfulfilled most of the time because we see the criminals and the rich get away with terrible crimes. The media is often a safety valve for this pent-up anger and frustration. If we were sure that our system would deliver justice promptly and efficiently, perhaps we wouldn't be so angry and agitated.
The past year has been one long year of anger and agitation. September 11, the war on terrorism, the bombing of Afghanistan, the terrorist attacks in Kashmir and the Indian parliament, the war psychosis, Godhra, Gujarat, the face-off between India and Pakistan, flight of foreign nationals, economic recession, they have all taken their toll. It's been a continuous season of bad news. But now the tide seems to be turning. One sees good news in the way Salman Khan is forced to pay compensation, that the absconding senior police officer Ravi Kant Sharma—accused in the Shivani murder case—is behind bars, the turnout and outcome of the Kashmir polls, the way judges return their telephone gifts, that Manisha Koirala apologised to the court for taking the unconstitutional route of supplicating to Bal Thackeray. All these straws combine to make a bushel of hope: that our system does work.
There is anarchy, but it is a functioning anarchy, as J.K. Galbraith so aptly summarised Indian democracy. Perhaps we pounce on hope because it's the festive season of Dussehra and Diwali, perhaps it's a purely psychological reason of wanting to see the bright side of life, yearning to believe in happy endings simply because we are fed up with the relentless and seemingly endless string of depressing news. We have reached saturation point and we all need a break.
We want to believe that the worst is behind us, that things will look up. Positive energy is vital to jerk us out of the quagmire, to keep ourselves going. It generates a forward momentum that we all crave for. But as I wrote in one of my previous columns, India is an accident-prone country. Just when we seem poised to take off, something happens to trip us badly. Complacence is the devil's workshop. In this festive season, as we take flight on the twin wings of hope and energy, it would be wise to enrich enthusiasm with the constancy of caution and vigilance.