“What is easier said than done is to get all of you at one time in one room for two hours. My entirely personal belief is that the biggest challenge in front of us is not to get the politicians to see sense and do what we recommend. The biggest challenge is: Can we stay united? If so, for how long? And if that, can we then keep the intensity of our indignation at a consistently persuasive pitch for, let’s say, the 12 months to come?”
I had written those lines a year ago as part of an appeal to Mumbaikars to meet and cobble together a common vision for the city’s future, a vision that every one of us would feel invested in. At the time, as in every other time we’d meet, I made it clear that this Group of Groups, as it came to be named, was a mirror to us. Its longevity, productivity and momentum would be a mirror to us. Many Mumbaikars worked tirelessly to power it, lending their might to this collection of 51 NGOs and citizens’ coalitions to create a common minimum programme for Mumbai that was informed, realistic and focused. Months later, a programme emerged that was informed and, while wide-ranging and challenging, not impossible to implement provided everybody hung together and worked together.
A year later, the Group of Groups lies dormant. The prime solace I derive is that never in the city’s history have so many groups with varying beliefs, methodologies and egos gathered and interacted for six months. The common minimum programme we devised remains unimplemented. The mirror showed that ego, or an unbending agenda, or the physically and emotionally compressed lives of Mumbaikars prevents us from any real collective action. But how is this different from what happens in any other metropolis? Is it realistic to expect a city’s people to vigorously unite and act over anything? While the vision of Mumbaikars banding together across caste, religious and socio-economic divides is unrealistic, is it even necessary? Cannot a city express its ‘unity’ in disparate ways? Cannot a city have a collective consciousness without tom-tomming it? I believe the answer is yes. But—and this is the crux—does Mumbai have a collective consciousness? ‘Yes’ and ‘No’, I believe.
The ‘No’ is easier to explain. There are too many different Mumbais, too many things to negotiate just to take our families into the next day, too many opportunities that we do not want to pass by, and too little time.
It’s the ‘Yes’ part that gets difficult to pin down. What is it that connects us? Because, make no mistake, there is a connection flowing through this city. Most people will say Mumbai’s frenzied pace is the connecting force, keeping the urban poor energetically occupied and injecting the rich with limitless dreams. But I think it’s more than that. At best I can call it the “can do, will do” psyche. Mumbaikars take it as a personal challenge to deliver the impossible—from the autorickshaw driver turning up in the rain to take six children to school to the bigshot art director erecting a set with 24 hours to go. But here’s the bad news. The really bad news. Where did this entrepreneurial energy come from? Less from a sense of hope and optimism, much more from being neglected and uncared for by the state. Over the last 40 years, no international city’s government has treated its people with such indifference and scorn as ours have. We quickly realised this and set about making things better for ourselves. The rich bribed and bullied, the poor thieved and used the political and criminal mafia. Both knew they had no choice. This was their only city of hope.
And then we had 26/11. Up to this point, we thought nothing would anger us. But when 26/11 happened it seemed the final straw. Wrong. The general elections showed how the politics of the city affects us not one bit. Despite the most intensive effort ever by the non-profit sector, Mumbai refused to vote. The naysayers were right. Truly, the Mumbaikar believes nothing will change, no matter who you elect. And don’t underestimate our ability to shut things out. We are way too insular, way too scared to disturb the status quo, lest it interfere with our rise to a ‘better life’. This tragedy—of us practising the deepest cowardice there can be—has destroyed any moral fibre we had. Politician accused of genocide? We must welcome him to our city! Sports stars accused of match-fixing? Invite them for an awards night! Filmstars doing drugs? Get them a new endorsement! We have become our own rapists. We experience terror every day by terrorising ourselves. 26/11? Let’s make a film!
(The writer is an actor, activist and quintessential Mumbaikar.)
