Fuzzy Logic

8216;8216;There will certainly be many more sting operations in the future,8217;8217; says sociologist DL Sheth. 8216;8216;The sting operation finds an echo in the Indian trait of slyness. But things have gone so low that sting operations are needed to clean up the system. Of course, there is a danger stings could become like a Bollywood film. Hazy shots, music, actors, let the sensation run for 15 days.8217;8217;

Mr Sting is invincible. You may be Dilip Singh Judeo, perhaps the only Minister for Environment who spent the first half of his life shooting tigers and the latter half trying to conserve them, you may have a moustache shaped like a hedgehog on heat, you may be the macho man of Hinduism, galloping into every tribal conclave and herding the bison-horned carol-singing spearmen into the nearest available mandir. But hey, in a wicked hotel in a wicked city, when the night is dark and full of creepy soundbytes, it8217;s Mr Sting who has the power. The camera never lies when the pictures are excitingly fuzzy and Judeo just doesn8217;t look good in half-light.

Mr Sting spares no one. You may be the boring, sleep-inducing Ajit Jogi with hair the colour of the untapped mineral ores of Chhattisgarh, Jogi with the cool son who has proved that when it comes to administering vast rural tracts, it8217;s best to be from St Stephen8217;s College, but even Jogi finds it difficult to fight the sultan of Sting. Jogi was leading an assault on upper caste citadels, insisting that unless your caste was Scheduled you had no claim on Chhattisgarhia pride, but when Mr Sting fixed on him, Jogi was left wishing he had time to dance the night away in Babylon Hotel, Raipur, instead of cravenly singing tere dwar khara ek jogi to Sonia Gandhi in 10, Janpath, New Delhi.

Some say Mr Sting is a peddler of fantasy. That he shows the public a 8216;fantasy of corruption8217;, not real corruption, that he 8216;entraps8217;, creates part-fiction feature films which bolster his own agenda but ruins individual reputations forever. But here we must draw the Bangaru Laxman-rekha.

Mr Sting is often a force of good. He is not illegal according to the law, and he exposes, in whatever flawed way, the catastrophic decay in our public life. In fact, younger politicians agree that they now live in the Empire of Sting. Says the dashing Jay Panda, Biju Janata Dal MP, 8216;8216;In a democracy, freedom of speech cannot and should not be restricted. However, the line between journalistic freedom and political vendetta should not be crossed. Even in sting operations, there must be some dos and don8217;ts.8217;8217;

Mr Sting is everywhere but nowhere. He could emerge in any avatar. He may be a neighbour with one satellite too many. He may be a colleague whose tiffin smells of too much masala. He may be a commercial or professional rival who is wired by the invisible cables of envy. He may be a neglected lover, hormonally driven to electronic gadgetry. Mr Sting could be a tycoon who hates red tape, so cuts his own tape instead. He could be a sportsman recording his way to fame, or a clerk editing out his employer8217;s life.

The age of sting is the age of mistrust. Yet the age of sting is also the age of rough justice and the fear of the unseen eye. 2004 may be a wary year, but, thanks to Mr Sting, it may also be a cleaner year. Born out of a failure of society and of the law, Mr Sting is a rough god of our political times.