Words and whispers 8217;98

As the Starr-crossed sage of sex, lies and videotape unfolded, the rest of the world felt that it was on the Titanic in an ocean of sleaze and with no lifeboats of course. If Old Bill doesn8217;t get to face impeachment for lying to the American people, I vote that he is impeached for pulling the rest of us into his politics of personal destruction, which finally ended in Cruising through Iraq in a B-52 like a Godzilla on the rampage.

But muscle-flexing was not confined just to the US. On a clear day in May, the earth moved in Pokharan leaving Delhi in a rare ecstasy. 8220;I have an important announcement to make,8221; said Prime Minister Vajpayee, as he officially ushered in India8217;s Nuclear Millennium. The explosions in Rajasthan8217;s desert, codenamed the Buddha smiles8217;, evoked two distinct responses. Some celebrated the birth of Shakti Mata with crackers and sweets, and vowed to take Pokharan8217;s radioactive sands around in a rath yatra. Some took to the streets holding up banners which said, 8220;TheBuddha did not smile we want bread, not bombs8221;.

Ultimately, it was pure illusion, this hot pursuit of a nuclear Viagra. It took the electorate just six months to indicate that having a blast at their expense was not appreciated. The BJP was bombed out of office in Delhi and Rajasthan, and couldn8217;t dislodge Digvijay Singh in Madhya Pradesh.

Spirituality suddenly became ubiquitous, or so it seemed. Even material girl Madonna was tempted to employ deva bhasa to sing her Shanti-Ashtangi8217; number. But sometimes this much-professed spirituality seemed to fray at the edges. As mustard oil got contaminated and Dropsy took many lives, Jhabua became synonymous with an ugly attack on nuns. As onions disappeared from the local bazaar, a controversy erupted over the invocation of the Saraswati Vandana. Wise Saraswati, goddess of knowledge, would have divined that this is political opportunism at its most cynical.

It was a year of living dangerously, when whole mountain sides slid, as did the rupee. Since the magicnumber eluded the BJP, it had to cobble together an unlikely coalition of some who offered unconditional support from the outside, others who offered conditional support from the inside, and at least one partner who wished to maintain a perfect equidistance from all. Little wonder then that the ruling dispensation was haunted by a sense of its own mortality. Little wonder then that every time Jayalalitha coughed in Chennai, the PM reached for throat lozenges in Delhi. The lady desisted from delivering that knockout punch that she promised, but the mustard-sharp Mamatadi did make up for the lack of action by physically collaring a recalcitrant MP on the floor of the House under television8217;s all-embracing gaze.

But it was that sort of a year, when 8220;anything goes8221; described the general mood. When dumbing down came to define the new generation and nine-year-olds became tweens as precocious as the teenagers of yesteryear. When Dolly, the cloned sheep, found company in Molly, a cloned mouse. When Salman Khanthought he could buck the Wildlife laws because he had great biceps, and when Bal Thackeray lit his war pipe and set the times on Fire. When citizens became netizens, who thought netiquette demanded that they send thousands of Clinton jokes round the world on e-mail. When Congress president Sitaram Kesri, one morning, discovered himself to be an outsider in Congress politics, and P.V.Narasimha Rao found himself an Insider. When Santros, Matizes and Indicas rolled out of assembly lines but the promised bus to Lahore hit a speed-breaker.

Words of every description crowded newspaper pages and satellite links. But, ultimately, one had a sneaking suspicion that is was just as Nana Patekar sang life was a bit of a gapla.