India :: Cynicism and Hope

Every home has a certain particular ritual that is unique to the family. The ritual, like rituals are meant to be, is followed religiously and is often reflective of the people that make the family. Coming from a family of journalists, 'news watching' is a ritual in our home. Irrespective of other shows on other channels, exams and other mundane routines that life has to offer, the whole family tunes into news at 9 every night with an excitement and enthusiasm akin to a child opening presents. As a child, I was very fond of the ritual. I loved watching the news. Getting to know what happens in the world, seeing how politics shapes lives and how people run (or sometimes ruin) the baffling country I call home. But lately, I have become disinterested. Whenever I see the familiar word 'headlines', flash across the TV screen, something inside me cringes. I become uneasy and look for reasons to do something else. To distract myself. I earlier thought it was something to do with the fact that i was growing up, but today I suddenly realised that its not the concept of news that I have come to dislike. Its the content of the news which I have come to detest.

Sample the headlines for today:

  Sanjiv Bhat, a senior IPS officer, has filed an affidavit regarding the Godhra Riots in which he mentions a meeting where the then chief minister of Gujrat, Narendra Modi, allegedly tells the officers assembled there 'to go soft on the rioters as the Muslims need to be taught a lesson'. Godhra Riots, for those who don't remember (and public memory can be a fickle thing), occured in 2002 and sparked off one of the worst communal riots Independent India has seen after the Partition. Its been 9 years. Narendra Modi is still the chief minister of Gujrat. Parties like the BJP still issue statements saying the affidavit is 'a conspiracy to discredit Modi'. Congress still wants to milk the issue for political gains. The survivors of the riots still wait for justice. Nothing has changed. And by the looks of what a Congress spokesperson said- 'We will patiently wait for the Supreme Court verdict'- nothing will change. Maybe the numerous TV discussions will be held on SmartTVs.

 Digvijay Singh and Mayawati join the latest in the long line of politicians to target the already mounting pile of corruption charges against the very people who- in a twist of irony- had taken upon themselves to make India a corruption free country. I am not going to say who is responsible, who is clean, who is being targeted because I don't know. And truthfully I don't even care. I was a part of the protests that shook the country and raised a glimmer of hope in the eyes of many optimistics like me. After visiting Jantar Mantar and being a part of all that is good and vibrant about democracy, I even came back home and texted my friend, what a proud Indian I was. That day despite its many pitfalls, I fell in love with the concept of India a little more. But today, seeing the politics and the smear campaigns, I am starting to think that I never really understood in its entirety the complex concept of India. I feel betrayed. But more importantly, I am hurt. Just like the many who were there that day shouting slogans, singing and walking. It was a festive atmosphere. Someone remarked in the paper 'It was too good to be true'. I am thinking that the 'someone' was right.

In a move that has caused widespread anger Pakistani High Court has acquitted 5 of the 6 men accused of gangraping Mukhtar Mai. For those who switch the channel or turn the page on seeing the word Pakistan (and trust me there are a lot of people like that), Mukthar Mai is a Pakistani woman from the village of Meerwala in Jatoi of the Muzaffargarh District of Pakistan. She was a victim of gangrape in the name of 'honour revenge'. By custom, rural women who are raped are expected to commit suicide. But Mukthar Mai spoke up and filed a complaint against the men. She won many awards for her courage but her real reward lay in the men getting punished. Did she get that? No. It may be war ravaged, politically instable Pkaistan we may be talking about but as far as women and crimes against women go, India has nothing to be particularly proud of. In the recent Census, the sex ratio was recorded the lowest in the country since Independence. Crimes against women in Delhi, the capital of the country, are on the rise and the numbers show no signs of coming down. Despite all the talk about women empowerment, a girl child is still seen as a burden even among the rich and the well educated. Despite all the talk of India being an economic superpower, we still value the life of a talented sportswoman at a paltry Rs. 25,000. They say that the real progress of the country is seen by the amount of respect and progress the women of the country make. In that case, we live in a very under developed nation. We as a country have not forgotten how to respect a woman. We never knew how to respect them in the first place.

As a person, I am a highly optimistic person. Ever since I remember I have been a proud Indian. I still watch all the parades, I still sing the national anthem with my head held high and every 14th August at midnight I listen to the Independence speech made by Nehru on the radio. I believe that we have the potential, the power to be a strong, independent and mature democracy. Which is why the name of this blog has the word Idealist in it.

But there are times and days when not only I feel disheartened and sad, I feel bitter. I feel that everyone else was right. That I am a fool. That nothing will ever change. That we will still play dirty politics and that corruption-which is slowly becoming a part of our collective DNA- will still probably be the only thing with which Indians will be known the world over. It is days like these, I want to be a cynic. To sit in an armchair and say 'Yeh India hai saab, yahan sab chalta hai'. To give up on the country and proudly declare to anyone who would listen that 'I am leaving the country as soon as I can and never coming back' like a lot of my friends say. To just stop believing that things will be all right and just criticise and question everything. To become a non believer. Kuch nahin ho sakta. End of discussion. Khatam.

But as I lie in my bed thinking how I will never hope and how I should concentrate on my studies so that I can get out of this country as soon as I can, I hear the musical call of the azaan followed by the melodious ringing of the bells in the temple, I see the rays of the sun light up the sky and illuminate the soil. I feel a certain peace. And I know I never can leave. And I know that I will never stop believing. And I hope that maybe today will be a new day. Just Maybe.