Tuesday, March 24, 2009

A Newbie Voter Whines


Last week, Vijay Mallya shelled out 1.8 million dollars in order to bring Gandhiji's personal effects to India. This week, Varun Gandhi tells the crowd at a BJP rally: "If someone slaps you on one cheek, you should turn the other. I haven't heard such a stupid thing in my entire life." Varun Gandhi. Great-grandson of Nehru, a man who looked up Gandhi as a mentor. Saying this. 
*silence*

But I'm going to leave Varun Gandhi alone (for now). He has enough on his plate: a disapproving BJP leadership and a particularly strong-minded Election Commission. 
Oh, and 
angry Muslims of course.

What I'm *really* interested in is the incredibly motley array of political behaviour that suddenly manifests a few months before the elections of which Varun Gandhi's comments are just small part off. It's almost surreal. It follows no conceivable set of rules or laws. You switch on the television and you see things like Lalu Prasad Yadav giving Ram Vilas Paswan a bear hug with an indecipherable smirk on his face. You see an educated, refined, polished, English-speaking Varun Gandhi explain to reporters that the he believes that the CD that was given to the EC was doctored right after you see the same Varun Gandhi (in the same clothes) deliver a fiery, incredibly irresponsible hate-speech in Hindi. We've had two trust votes in the last week itself, one of which was won by a 'voice vote'. I repeat: a 'voice vote'! Turn on any news channel at 9 and you will, more often then not, see two or more spokespeople from as many parties answer every question with a: "Our party believes this. Their party believe that. Vote for us." And our journalists. Our beloved, over-zealous, drunk with power journalists. What shall we do with you? Or without, for that matter.


Truth be told, this is the first Indian election I've followed so closely. It is also the first Indian election I will have the privilege of taking part in. And I catch myself wondering every once in a while if what I'm going to be taking part in is even democracy to begin with.
Take for example, seat-sharing. Two or more parties entering into a wonderful little agreement that essentially deprives the voter of democratic choice. What really disturbs me is the logic behind seat-sharing: I'm pretty damn sure I'm going to win this constituency because our party's been winning here since, well, hell, since forever so, hey, since we're friends why don't you lay off this one and I'll lay off a constituency where you have a similar advantage. 

And then we have India's infamous vote-bank politics. L.K. Advani, in his blog (I'm not going to promote it because I vote Congress. =P), talks about how Gujjars in a particular constituency would all vote BJP because the incumbent MP was Gujjar and non-Gujjars would also vote BJP because, knowing that the Gujjar vote would probably bring the BJP MP into power, they didn't want to waste their vote. To hell with election manifestos. Let's vote for someone with the same surname. Or someone who looks like he/she's winning.


On some level, it makes sense. It's hard for someone like me to digest, but it makes sense. Seat-sharing represents the new-era of coalition politics, where parties that are somewhat similar club themselves together into shoddy but working alliances. Coalition politics takes the idea of checks and balances to a new level. A few days ago, at the release of the CPM election manifesto, Karat shared how in the four years the Left was part of the UPA, it blocked several decisions that (Karat claims) have prevented the global economic downturn from devastating India. Karat may be right or wrong, and that really isn't my concern, but he raises an interesting point. Don't politically diverse alliances ensure that all sides of an argument are adequately explored before decisions are taken? Commie-bashers repeatedly bring up the issue of the Left slowing down the Indo-US nuclear deal. But what about the Left's blockage of bills that would've have increased FDI inflow to our insurance companies a few years ago? A bill, that if passed, would've have dragged us (or at least our insurance companies) into the mire of today's economic mess.
And vote-bank politics. As undemocratic as it may seem at face-value (and to people like me who are used to keeping tabs on American politics), in a representative system of democracy, it's completely valid. Take Mayawati for example. The world was inspired when Barack Obama became President of the United States. A black man, a member of a community that a little over forty years ago couldn't even vote, becoming one of the most powerful men in the world. It had an almost fairy-tale allure to it. Mayawati, and I make this comparison very carefully, is almost an Indian Barack Obama. A Dalit, she comes from a community oppressed for not decades, not centuries, but millennia. She is currently serving her fourth term as the chief minister of a state that has a population roughly half the size of the US. Her party holds absolute majority in the state's legislative assembly (a rare occurrence in Indian politics) And she has her eyes set on the prime ministership. Now, for a person like me, that's a little too hard to swallow. And it's not even a caste-issue. It's the issue of a non-English speaking, unrefined (according, of course, to what I consider 'refined') person taking charge of this country's future for five years. 

Roughly 16% of India's population, however, would beg to differ. Along with the millions of others that go through the same struggles that Dalit's go through and can relate more wholly to a person like Mayawati then to a person like, say, Sonia Gandhi. Mayawati's rise of to power is partly based on the BSP's successful manipulation of vote-bank politics. And, again, it's incredibly hard for me to digest but to millions of Dalits in UP and around India, voting in a Dalit just because he/she is a Dalit is how democracy works for them. It's their chance to vote for someone that understands the intricacies of their existence and to claim their place in India's destiny as a democracy.

Honestly, the Indian democratic exercise makes my head spin. And hopefully, in elections to come, it'll make more sense. I often imagine how our forefathers, 62 years ago, felt on the midnight of Independence. How frightening and exciting and uncertain it must have felt to suddenly realize that you were in charge of your own destiny. And today, through all the noise and riff-raff, the Bollywood-ish twists and turns and spins of Indian politics, I believe there's a little bit of that fright and excitement that remains when every voter goes to the polls. And a little bit of that uncertainty. Collectively, we're still a nation trying to find our feet as a democracy, evolving election by election. In a country so diverse our national language is only spoken by roughly 40% of our population, the setting in of a concrete system of democracy that truly represents all Indians will take time and a lot of trial and error. And that gives the newbie voter/spectator a little solace.

Ah hell, it'll probably do more damage than good: 
http://blog.lkadvani.in/

Monday, February 04, 2008

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Stop.

I said, stop!

Friday, July 13, 2007

Puff the Magic Dragon *sniff sniff*

This the first song to ever make me cry. Almost a decade later, it still makes me sad. You have to listen to it.

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called honah lee,
Little jackie paper loved that rascal puff,
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. oh

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called honah lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called honah lee.

Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on puffs gigantic tail,
Noble kings and princes would bow wheneer they came,
Pirate ships would lower their flag when puff roared out his name. oh!

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called honah lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called honah lee.

A dragon lives forever but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant rings make way for other toys.
One grey night it happened, jackie paper came no more
And puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his life-long friend, puff could not be brave,
So puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave. oh!

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called honah lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called honah lee.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Pastor Thomas Lincoln (R.I.P)

This is fresh. Raw. I can't find the words to say.
May there be quieter waters on the other shore.
And may we have the grace to Hope.

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Hello World!

To be very honest, this blog is still an obscure, tiny lifeboat. I'm not getting hundreds of clicks every day. But I'm just so kicked about the few people that visit my site from around the world and actually stay around to read stuff on it. Blogging doesn't feel like a useless exercise anymore. Below, a map of my visitors from around the world. From StatCounter (highly recommended, it's beautifully simple and free!).

Friday, June 29, 2007

This Is Not A Eulogy

Johnny. Bro. This is not a eulogy. You're not gone. You've just been misplaced. Tempoarily lost. One day, years after you're found, we'll look back on this and laugh. This is not a goodbye.
I think about you a lot nowadays man. I have so many memories of you. More than most other people at Kodai 'cause I grew up with you too. I remember playing outside every evening. That destructive phase us guys all went through. How ardently we all tried to screw up my BMX Twister. We gave it away to some a few years ago by the way. It was in tip-top condition.
I remember applying to Kodai together and getting in together and experiencing our first night away from home together. I remember getting through the toughest times of boarding school together. We had our differences. We had our fights. I guess when you know someone too well, you tend to take them for granted a little. I have memories of fights and confrontations also. But, even they, Johnny, even they make me miss you more. It was all part of vibrant, motley package you were. Johnathan Marak.
I remember soccer in the rain. How we used to nickname you the 'One Man Army'. How you sent the defense scattering when you charged in. I remember Swedish House and all our dumbass exploits. I remember that old, abandoned house in the Swedish Compound. And camping out on the basketball court, making baked beans over the watchman's fire.
I remember our band. The one Shaggy called 12:01 because we were supposed to have a name by noon and we didn't so he just looked at the time on his watch and named us that. I remember playing No Woman No Cry with Neeraj on the drums. And practicing Innocent and Hero in the cage with that shitty drumset. I remember us getting banned for the Rock Concert because Kirtan threw the duster at the health teacher.
I remember digging that well for villagers at Bharatnagar. You and Aditi. Hehe. And ninth grade field trip! How Aditi and Mercy had to clean the whole room after we had finished. ; ) And how I rolled out of bed and walked across the balcony to Suchirita's room! I remember the cast party for the 9th and 10th One Act Plays and that crazy night. That night when four of us went down. I remember writing that email to your parents when you got caught smoking at school. I remember writing that email thrice man. You never learnt then. And I blame myself somehow.
I remember that Sunday so fucking clearly it scares me. I remember there was smoke everywhere and roaches on the window sills and weed on the floor. I remember how my heart stopped when the dorm-relief walked in. I remember how I got that feeling. The beginning of the end.
I remember planning to bribe the medical store man. Being called in for questioning by Mrs. Ford. Hating her. Hating the system. I remember, like it was yesterday, Sid shrugging and saying that there was no point praying to God about this. We were in the wrong anyways. We couldn't ask God to change the rules of morality. I remember wanting to punch him for saying that. But knowing, deep inside, that he was right. He was dead-on right.
I remember the day we all said goodbye. I remember that imaginary toast I proposed, my voice cracking. All of us standing outside Lochend. Waiting for your bus. I remember walking you to the bus-stop at 6. Saying our last goodbyes. The promises to keep in touch. You'd be back in May to visit. All that. Seeing you one last time. Walking back to school as you rode on to another life.
I remember how the remaining two and a half years of school just wasn't the same without you. But we got by. You called. Aditi stayed on for a semester and she moved on to Sam. The phone-calls got sparser. We tried emailing. I hadn't heard from you in ages.
And then I remember the day I found out. I had known you had ran away from home. But the day I found out that there was a possibility you were dead, I remember how crushed I felt. How helpless. I remember staying awake till two in the night, wondeing if somewhere out there, you were alive or not. I couldn't bear the thought of you dying alone somewhere, under some bridge, with no hope in sight. I couldn't bear the thought of you dead. I still can't. I can't bring myself to think of it in that way. I hope you didn't do it man. I hope you're just bloody good at hiding. You always were when we were kids. You were always the last one to be found at hide and seek. I hope you didn't do it. You have so much to live for. We were supposed to start a band together. Make music. Laugh. Cry. Live.
I still hope bro. I swear, I always will. Until you're found. Alive or otherwise. I always will.
But Johnny. This is not a eulogy. This is not goodbye.

[ If anyone has any information about a Johnathan Marak who has been missing for seven months, please contact the author at pukstar@gmail.com ]