My moment of F(l)ame

The flames that consumed the Lokpal Draft finds its match only in the fury of the Australian brushfire. The carbon gases emitted would have been adequate to wipe out all the carbon credits earned by Indian Corporates so far. All the electronic annual reports and direct credit of dividends to bank accounts went naught. Well, the civil society cannot be expected to behave civil always. Bills can’t be torched on facebook or twitter. On occasions they need to express their ire by fire on the streets also.

That brings to my mind how I narrowly missed my moment of f(l)ame during college days.  We were a small group charged with secular progressive ideology; or so we thought during those days.  We could never have won college elections and were an inconsequential minority whose voice never mattered. We lacked the organizational skills of Kejriwal or the dramatics of Bedi to convert a simple villager wearing a Gandhi cap into a cult overnight. We didn’t have the wherewithal to call for a strike and if we did, the consequences could be serious. Those days the Principal did matter. He could rusticate you and that would be the end of your dreams to a degree. Only your parent’s entreaties could make him alter his decision. This in a nutshell is the background information.

Our group was itching to mark our presence in the campus. In academics and extra curricular activities our individual members did make a mark. But as a group we had no voice. It was around this time that the monthly college news paper came out with an editorial which we considered offensive. It was about the formation of the new Calicut University. The editorial cast serious aspersions about the secular nature of the University. This was a Godsend opportunity for us.

Before anybody could take up the issue we decided to act. But how?  A strike?  We didn’t have the strength. Gherao the Principal? We didn’t have the guts. A fast to death didn’t look cool. Gandhiji or Gandhigiri had not become a craze then, four decades back, as it is now.

It was then that somebody came up with the idea: Burn the Paper!  Inside the college campus, with all the fanfare that we could command.  A senior chap, politically correct, suggested that before we do anything drastic we need to exhaust the usual remedies. Make a representation to the Principal. There were dissenting notes as the dissenters felt that the surprise element would be lost. Nevertheless, the senior’s voice did carry weight. We sought an audience, but our reputation was so great that it was promptly turned down.  We then waited for the Principal to make his rounds and accosted him in the verandah. We made our point but the Principal dared us to go with our protest. We claimed we represent “the students” as Team Anna says they represent “the people”. The principal had a Diggy Raja (Singh) trait in him and we were dismissed with contempt.

Back to square one, we made our future plans. Before the opening bell we were to shout slogans and make a bonfire of the paper in the college quadrangle.  And thereafter what?  We were blank. We had no road map or new issues to rake up. Cut to the present there is no dearth of issues to fight for … electoral reforms, right to service, right to food security, right to education…..all unheard of those days. Right to strike work was the only mantra of the times.

The next day with great trepidation the small group assembled outside the college campus. Unlike now , where the visual media directs the show , the angles , the sound bites and the protestors and the police are only the dramatis personae , those days there was not even a beat reporter of the local eveninger to cover our show.  Altogether, a surcharged yet depressing atmosphere in our camp.

It was then to our great relief the anti-climax unfolded. The Principal put a corrigendum on the notice board that an article which inadvertently found its way to the editorial did not represent College view point and was the personal view of the contributor! No word of regret though! We claimed credit and called off our protest with great sense of relief .Did the Principal capitulate to our demand? If he did, he surely overestimated our strength and capacity to carry forward. Or was it a clever move by the Principal to dissipate a budding group.  Well, we made a point, however chimeral it may look now.  But was that what we really wanted? Beyond the issue did we cherish an urge to be counted? What ever be it, we missed our moment of f(l)ame.

The Aftermath

It has been three months since I have been away from my blog. During these times I have had very less access to my comp. A quick check of the mails, a stealthy visit to the face book or a hurried glance of the stories …..this has been my routine. The change has been caused by the onslaught of the hurricane which I forecast a couple of months back.  I have been busy with my grand children, all of 6 years between them. With the rains keeping them indoors most of the time, it has been the responsibility of the grand parents to keep the brats adequately engaged. Not an easy task, as they can be hands full if they so decide. 

 Television is out of bounds …restricted to just one hour between 9 and 10 Pm to get them adequately subdued for the night’s sleep. Mostly, Hindi reality shows, which would not seek to expand their knowledge of curse words.  The X Factor or Kaun Banega Crorepati. They also love to watch the cookery shows.  No surfing the channels, as they love to watch the ads also, much to my discomfiture.  

The outdoors are mostly temples which they seem to like. So much so, that the general refrain on a bright day is…Which temple are we going today?  They seem to be generally outdoor creatures, especially the Hotel lobbies or restaurants which they appropriate to themselves. They make friends with the bearers and charm their way to quick and speedy service. When visiting relatives they expertly make their way to the kitchen and ask……… What can we have to eat?

Between them they fight but would not allow third party mediation. Very often they gang up to extract a story or a play act from their grand parents. The grandfather is made to act as ‘the enormous turnip’, the giant from ‘Jack and the beanstalk’ or the ‘sly fox’             as the story demands. He sees ‘mean looking fellows’ with ‘unruly hair’ all around. Straight from Enid Blyton story he overheard being read out to his sister.

Nik is very reasonable while making demands. The other day I heard his grand mother tell him …    “Nik ! If you start fussing I’m not making Gulab Jamun at all. Stop now and I promise to make it tomorrow.”  No issues for him. Not for him ‘my way or the high way’. He promptly agreed but with a small twist:  “Ok Ammama, I stop fussing, but I want tomorrow, Now”  What do you say to this?

They are at their extreme boisterous behavior towards the night when the whole colony has gone to sleep.   Nothing can stop them from their shouts and shrieks except the fear of the bogeyman, now with diminishing returns. My daughter says, their behavior, at times, comes in handy too when they have an unwelcome late night guest. Not for us, used to the tranquil nights in Manisseri!

  

A week almost now, I have the comp all to myself. The remote is safe in my hands but not the excitement in surfing channels. We have the tranquil nights back but that’s not what we look forward to these days. The silence is deafening.