A new manifesto

We would explain to each other the meaning of new words and phrases that we had picked up in the classroom 8212; crushing of the state apparatus, withering away of the state, setting up of a classless society, uses of the ideological apparatus of the state, etc. In fact, we liked these phrases so muchthat we would use them even in situations where they meant little. Our obsession with these new-found theories did not stop at that. All of us believed that the revolution would happen one fine day. When the time was ripe, the state would be crushed and a classless society established.

Karl Marx, Lenin, Trotsky and Gramsci came alive in our discussions and peopled our everyday lives. We would often discuss the theories they propounded, the lives they lead, the examples they set. If we could not afford to buy the books they had written, we would photostat hundreds of pages and store them in our hostel rooms.

We even promised to adhere to a code of conduct 8212; we would never do anything that would violate the ideals we held so close to our hearts. Unlike everyone else, we would never take up the national hobby: we wouldn8217;t take the civil services examinations and join the imperialist bourgeoisie. Some of us took an active interest in the Narmada Bachao Andolan. We would do our bit for the exploited sectionsof society, we decided.

But what I found challenging was putting all these beliefs into practise. Even as my friends gave up on firang clothes and shoes, it was difficult for me to let go of them. One of my friends hated me for this. He would ridicule the fact that I wore T-shirts with foreign labels, that I did not come to class in bathroom slippers, that I carried leather bags instead of jholas. He would make fun of me at the drop of a hat. He even called me names 8212; petit bourgeoisie, hoarder, what not.

In fact, I failed to live up to the expectations of many of my leftist friends. They felt betrayed when I got married right in the middle of my masters, that too to another JNUite who practised rightist principles. They felt worse when I told them I had decided not to enrol for furthur research. Instead, in 1996, I joined a national daily. For my friends, my affiliation to the bourgeoisie was now complete 8212; I could never realise the ideals, practise the beliefs or do anything worthwhile, theysaid.

As time passed, I lost touch with most of them. My visits to JNU resumed only last year when I was assigned the education beat. However, as luck would have it, I could hardly meet up with my friends.

Last week, one of my friends called me up in office. The same guy who always pulled my leg for not conforming to our code of conduct. He gave me news of the others. Each one of us had chosen a different path. Two had married. Two others were pursuing their doctorates in the UK. He himself had chosen to stay back at the university. Will the revolution happen, I wondered. Moments before I could voice my concern, my friend told me he was planning to leave the university and take up a job somewhere. Well, it was all over finally.

However, just before hanging up he said: 8220;But guess what? The other day I came upon this new group of students reading the Communist Manifesto on the top floor of the library building. Unlike the book we read, this was a brand new one. The library must have bought a new copy.8221;