It's been two years? You don't say? How time flies! And that just about sums up the response to the second death anniversary of the world's favourite princess that just went by. In Britain, her home, there were no memorial services, concerts or marches. And only a few dozens turned up at her Kensington Palace residence this August 31, compared to the thousands that had collected at the time of her death. But even before the day itself the signs were ominous.The tabloids had renewed their interest in the seamier side of her life. The various commemorative enterprises started in her memory had taken a crass commercial turn. Despite a worldwide fund raising drive and the creation of a memorial commission none of the proposed parks, playgrounds or statues had come up. The commission hasn't even met for 10 months. The country's most popular daily paper, the Sun summed it up in one of its customarily succinct headlines : `Forgotten'. Well! You could shrug your shoulders and wonder about the fickleness ofhuman emotions.Or you could join the Brits in feeling embarrassed, hide that Elton John CD you rushed out to buy in a fit of maudlin and forget the whole thing, the goggle eyed vigil before the television, the hushed speculation, anger at the queen, the tug at your throat when the forlorn gun carriage wobbled down the street.You could. But it would be a mistake. It would be a tragedy. Because, finally. finally, after two long years, it is possible to talk about it. To analyse it. To make sense of it. To question it. Not the accident or the flagging loyalties of Diana fans but the whole crazy, intemperate response to her death. And why, you ask, should we do that? If the question really bewilders you then let me remind you of what happened when Diana died.Let me remind you of the madness that seized the world. Of the thousands in Britain and France who took to the streets. Of the thousands of dollars, pounds and francs that were expended on flowers, candles, soft toys and cards to a deceasedwoman. Of the many people in god knows how many poor nations the world over that spent earning and sleeping hours glued to a ball-by-ball account of events following the accident.Of the ease with which the world's major television networks, even the BBC, in fact, particularly the BBC, declared a holiday from aircrashes, floods, coups, genocides, plagues, hijacks, elections, peace initiatives, climatic changes, any possible real news, to focus wholly, solely and with unwavering commitment on the information that an English princess and her boyfriend had died. Of the wave of public fury that was unleashed against the queen, an old woman, and her son who had served her country in its best stiff upper lip tradition for many years.Why did all this happen? Numerous explanations have since been put forward. Was it the impressive power of the media in a shrinking world? Was it Diana's beauty and her fame? Was it a sudden and yawning need for emotional expression in staid Britain? It could have been one orall of them. The answer is probably complex and beyond the scope of this piece. What however was alarming beyond measure and needs serious examination was the fascist nature of the phenomenon.Some time after the event Granta devoted a special issue to the response to Diana's death. There was an introduction by the editor and what can be termed testimonies of about a dozen people. These people had been picked because they had written letters to the newspapers criticising the moderate public response to the event. Both in the introduction and in the testimonies there were descriptions of the thick climate of fear that hung over everyone.Of the terror the writers felt in expressing an opinion that ran counter to the overwhelming mass hysteria. Fear? If it had been a war things couldn't have been worse. The stranglehold was not restricted to any one nation. I experienced it here in India while discussing Diana's death. Unless one talked of it in terms of an earth-shaking tragedy and Diana as a pureshining light you could only do it in hushed whispers, if you dared at all.In fact one of the things I did in my last few days at the women's magazine I edited was to commission an objective piece on Diana. The piece was killed by my successor.. So, in brief: a wealthy, soft-hearted, unhappy woman was elevated to a saint by her sudden death and you could be lynched for saying so.Isn't it strange? It is strange enough to be incredible. And yet strange things have been happening. Some years ago someone made the discovery that Ganesh idols were drinking milk. Rubbish, you would say looking for, as scientists later did, a rational explanation. Yet that bit of news travelled across the country and the world to Indians abroad in a matter of hours drawing hordes to temples everywhere. More recently we have seen how reports of soldiers dying in battle set off a wave of emotion in this country.About time? Perhaps. There is nothing wrong in letting the heart and faith invade our cold practical world. But therecan be a thing such as too much sentiment. And the fascism of flowers can have as many terrifying consequences as the fascism of bullets.
