Comfortably Numb

We ask our ministers, the ones we elected with our precious votes about law and order in the city as if we cannot see it for ourselves. We ask our police chiefs and when they say things are fine we accept it. Words satisfy us. We are happy to let things slide. Why?

Maybe it’s the words. Increasing violence’ just seems so abstractand so distant. So let me make it plainer. There are people who live off what we call organised crime. In the old days they smuggled gold and we didn’t care because they didn’t bother us too much. Then they got into real estate and again, we thought, they aren’t bothering us, only the poor tenants who were unlucky enough to live on the property they coveted.

Then they started kidnapping and recovering payments and again they weren’t bothering us, only the dirty businessmen who had the number two dhanda. Then they started fighting with each other and playing godfather and again it had nothing to do with us, only with the families who lived in criminal-infested areas. Then they spread their tentacles into horse racing, video, construction, films and cable TV and again they didn’t bother us, only the people who were involved in those businesses. Then they became politicians and it still didn’t bother us because politics is a dirty business anyway.

And now? Now they have lists of telephone numbers. They calland demand money. They kill if they don’t get it. Kill the target and anyone else who should be standing by. They kill anywhere and everywhere: in courtrooms, in hospitals, on sports fields, on busy streets, outside temples, in telephone booths, at railway stations… Soon it will get worse. Much worse.

The numbers on the lists will grow. We have invited a new taxman into town. He is watching how much you make, how much you spend and he is determined to get a cut of your earnings. Right now in cash. Later, as cuts on essential services. And this is just the beginning. For once powerful, he is an arbitrary creature and not easily satisfied. If your scooter is standing where he wants to park his car, he will knock it down.

If you cross him unknowingly, he will bump you off. He may take a fancy to your house, your car, your jewellery, your son or your daughter. And he will take what he wants because he can have your life for a very small price.And, believe it or not, we still don’t care.

We don’t askquestions. We don’t demand explanations. We do not probe or investigate matters that concern our money, our lives. We simply shrug our shoulders and prepare to pay our way out of trouble. And then we complain that the people in power don’t care. Why should they when our sense of accountability is so abysmally low? As low as our sense of responsibility.

We are in the middle of a crisis. One that has been brought on by years of cynicism, collusion and looking the other way. And it is going to get worse.

If we care about anything at all, we all have to take the initiative. By airing our concerns. By refusing to accept phony arguments and seeking genuine information. By coming together and demanding that our lives and livelihood be made safe. It is not happening somewhere else. It is happening to us.

(The writer is a former editor of Elle)