Talking Shop: We need saviors

The other day, I asked an innocent question of a seemingly educated person at one of Delhi's leading clubs, one where a lot of people assemble to tipple and debate the future of the nation. "Why is Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi not relevant today, especially given what is happening around us?" For reasons known to him alone, he took off like a rocket after my question and vented his spleen, indulging in some vey verbal histrionics: "Aap mere se pooch rahein hain yeh bakwaas (you dare ask me this hogwash)?" His response didn't worry me. It only empowered me, for I expected the rave and the following rant. What did worry me is the fact that this senior thinker failed to even understand my question, or where it was stemming from.

On every Indian currency note, we have Gandhi's cherubic face beaming at us; it is there for a reason. We all know why. But this person I questioned, despite being a staunch hexagenerian, only claimed vocally that all that has transpired is that one era is now over and another is beginning. Really? That is the answer from today's intelligentsia? A new era? And where shall this new era lead us to, I ask.

On today's normal Indian street, this is a very peremptory question. But in the election-fest we are witnessing today, this is a seeming death-wish. Luckily, I survived, with my fingers and still-youthful brain still attached, able to reach out to you and muddle and meddle, again. Why? Well, because it is a free world and I have survived to share some gory portends of the past. I may be over-reaching. And yes, I did promise that this shall be a happy column. Therefore, here we go.

Some happy tidings

I am about to start driving again. In fact, I already have, in right earnest. And what a pleasurable drive! Armed with double vaccination certificates, the missus and I have already embarked on trips to Uttarakhand and on to Himachal Pradesh, a vintage vagabond outage that dismays most of my own. Before people can know where I have been, my where- and thereabouts, I am back in my humble abode in Delhi-NCR.

Why so? Well, I don't trust anyone anymore on this front. This thing called 'social media' is quite anti-social in the longer scheme of things. "Kuchch post mat karna (do not post anything on social media)," I beseech my friends. But they shamelessly do nonetheless where I have been stands globally exposed. This little tryst between man and his simian friends stymies me, for I shall never understand this utter betrayal of the phrase "do not share my personal times".

It is perhaps Mark Zuckerberg who is the culprit. But then, the problem with that unintelligible and illogical conclusion is that I have met him and his key team oft-times and understand what us billions of numb, dumb 'bhakts' have done, just by following one man who runs a digital media enterprise and takes us to a universally-captivating destination, even when that damns our personal innocence and privacy. Zuckerberg didn't leak my pictures or personal moments. My friends did. Are we then, globally, rats caught in the proverbial barrel? Or am I alone caught in a smaller one, with my Jerry spunky mouse friends gloating over the (f)act? Time shall tell.

The hills taste well

Here is some better news and some smells for you. India's hills taste well still, as they always have. The scenes are gorgeous and enervating, as are the smells and pine distils. Thanks to the lockdowns, the mountain air is cleaner, having been largely spared by idiots from the cities and towns, but the parabolic and cascading repercussions have been vicious.

Sadly, it is the people who make up our hills, our hotels and rooms, lunches and dinners, who are in the doldrums, all but done and out. My heart goes out to them. Why? In the midst of pristine forests and bucolic country retreats and resorts are hundreds upon hundreds hankering to get into our car when we leave their hotel, begging to travel back with us, even petting our cats and dogs as a manifestation of their purity and faithfulness. And that's if we would promise to give them a job and two square meals when we reach Delhi.

Politely told no, three even offered to work for us for free, forever, as long as we offered them food and board. Why free, I asked them. "Bhikhari nahin ban-na hai aur (we don't want to be beggars anymore)," one answered. "Aap tameez se baat karte hain, koi aur nahin karta (you speak politely, no one else does anymore)," said another. "Tees saal ka ho gaya hoon, aur ghar par museebat nahin ban sakta. (I am 30 years old, I cannot be a burden on my family anymore)," said the third.

I was upset and torn, even frightened. For the last two years, me and the missus have shirked external help to protect ourselves. We have broomed, cooked, cleaned and swathed all alone. By the time you read this column, though, the third boy shall be living with us. We have got him vaccinated and he shall soon go 'bhow' and 'meow' with us and our four animal idiots. Fingers crossed.

Winds are a-changing

Our emotional and actual climate are both running berserk, certainly not getting any better. Things economic and social are breaking apart. That has led me to repeatedly ask my wife, cats and dogs where we should live, geographically. I have also received calls from friends, wondering whether I am okay. What shall I do and where? I may just head back to the hills, hoping for the best. The weather is better, and it certainly shall be over the next few months as the summer's sun batters North India, where I have spent most of my life. As a toddler, I remember waiting for the rains to come, so we could float little paper boats in our 'nullahs' (drains). What fun it was, but it is all gone.

Things are different now. If I run to climes and places more pristine and nicer, it shall speak of a runaway 'bhagoda'. That shall have little, if any, relevance on the life gone by, where rasogollahs, samosas and gulab jaamuns were far more enticing and enervating than anything else, including ladies (at least till I turned 18). You cannot have a Rs 2-plate of chchole bhature at a roadside vend, followed by a glass of chilled water that cost all of 5 paise. I learnt a little life-fact then, that simple pleasures outshine monetary sensibilities and needs, every time.

I have lived a good life. That leads my heart to ache for the bewilderment that is shrouding most in our country today. In my now wiser years, I remember our humble yet highly sated beginnings, always being bold and blonde in both outlook and attitude; and being courageous, tough, carefree... Thus, it is that over the next few months, I have decided to take you on a tour that spins your head, as much as it is now spinning mine. I will rethink my vision for my people and pivot some, even gravitate if I have to. I shall try and bring about a difference for some people and shall share the same with all of you. Let's go on a happy ride.

The writer is a clinical analyst and a communications specialist. Views expressed are personal. narayanrajeev2006@gmail.com