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This is an archive article published on October 24, 2004

I’ve seen the future. It looks like the past

Funny, isn’t it, how every political development of the past few days brings with it that unmistakable whiff of rotting fish? Now don&#...

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Funny, isn’t it, how every political development of the past few days brings with it that unmistakable whiff of rotting fish? Now don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against rotting fish; in fact, it’s so much more interesting, aromatically speaking, than some inane if pleasing fragrance like sandalwood or lavendar. I like the way rotting fish assails the nostrils and puts its stamp on the surrounding ether. I like the way it yells out loud like Tarzan on amphetamine and stirs the air like a giant ladle, occasionally whamming you in the plexus. But what I cannot make up my mind about is whether I want our national politics to waft back to us laced with that persistent hint of rot, laden with intimations of history.

I mean, I will not deny that the Emergency was an interesting interregnum in the life of the nation. I grant that Indira Gandhi did her very best to deliver us from the collective stupor into which we had all slumped. She put all her considerable energy into beating out national boredom like so much carpet dust, which was all to the good. Just when we were getting used to a free press and to writing political profanities in newspapers, she let loose those little brown blademen in checked bush shirts who did their bit to save us from the burden of thought. They gave us ‘Guidelines’ on what to write and how to think and followed up on them up with a detention order or arrest warrant if we still didn’t get the message and actually exercised independent judgement. Just when we were getting used to raising voices of protest, the lady brought in a couple of lovelies—Misa and the Midnight Knock—to spare us the exertions of marching in rallies under an unrelenting sun. And, yes, lest we forget…she gave us the 20-point programme and ordinances by the dozen.

So when a Congress government snips out ‘‘objectionable’’ bits in Prakash Jha’s film, it kind of brings back memories of the old order—and odour—of the Censor. Perhaps in time the Manmohan Singh Government, too, will summon up the courage to draw up guidelines on what constitutes true art and free speech. It may even decide that short spells of free government hospitality in one of the thousands of jails in the country may be just what the scriptwriter ordered for artistic creativity. Who knows? All I know is that the retro look is back in fashion. All I know is that I’ve seen the future and it looks suspiciously like the past.

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And, as if in confirmation of a trend, we have a brand new BJP president who is actually a grand old BJP president. I mean, every time the Party with a Difference has run out of ideas, it has run after L K Advani (no difference, whatsoever, it has done this five times already), and every time L K Advani runs out of ideas, he organises a rath yatra. So are we now to go back to the exciting days of Palampur Resolutions, pseudo-secularism, dharma sabhas and Akhand Ramayana Yagyas? Will the main opposition party now attempt a crash weight-enhancing diet, comprising elevating slogans like ‘Hindi, Hindu, Hindustan/Mullah bhago Pakistan’ and ‘spontaneous’ made-to-order riots? Already the BJP’s cheerleaders are arguing that this is just what the country needs at the moment: some good old fashioned ethos-building, some solid pumping of iron by the Lauh Purush.

Will he oblige? I don’t know. We will just have to wait and see what the Lauh Purush has up his kurta sleeve. All I know is that when politicians want to make history, they just go back to it; that when they don’t seem to have a tomorrow, they just grab a part of yesterday. Those ever-elegant French have a phrase for this: plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose—the more things change, the more they remain the same. And I still have not made up mind whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.

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