The `invisible' enemy
SHIVANI NAG
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We have among us people who formulate their own laws and mete out their own version of justice
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DEMOCRACY... SELF-GOVERNANCE... rule of the people... and lost somewhere in the midst of all these is the `law of the land.' We Indians do not require the police force, or even the judiciary anymore. We have among us people who formulate their own laws and mete out their own version of justice... be it in the form of torching down public transport; pelting stones at buses; bruising and battering school principals or ransacking offices and studios of those who think and act as per their own wishes and not the dictates of a select few.
Strength in obscurity
The aggressor in all these instances is a faceless nameless mass of people whose very strength and invincibility lie in its obscurity. In its invincibility is reflected the listlessness of a nation that lets itself be held to ransom by them. Some may justifiably argue that it is only a few who indulge in such daylight vandalism and yet an equally undeniable fact is that we let it happen.
We condemn only in secure and comfortable spaces of our living rooms. The candle light marches expressing our discontent now appear to be nothing more than a hangover effect of one Rang De Basanti and with the movie now out of our minds, so are its lessons of rising above our passiveness and finding our voices.
The rising frequency of such instances does raise some very uncomfortable questions. Some mobs have been known to have clear political backing as exemplified by the almost routine vandalism by the goons supported by the right wing political parties and outfits.
What is it that makes our political representatives, and our police forces so helpless in front of these mobs? An implicit agreement of what they do? Lack of political will or a weakness that characterises the rest of the population? Is it the beginning of `anarchy'?
As an Indian I feel insecure. I fear an invisible enemy — an enemy against which I cannot keep a vigil and if it ever were to attack me, its sheer invisibility would ensure its escape and there would be nothing that the vanguards of our society would be able to do to bring it to book. I feel insecure whenever the realisation dawns on me that the mass murderers and rapists of the riots in Gujarat are still roaming freely on the streets of our country.
Even as I pride myself on being a citizen of a secular democracy, I still cannot let go of the anxiety that on some February 14 if I ever happen to display some spontaneous expression of affection in a public space, I could invite the wrath of some self-proclaimed `moralising' goons whom all will condemn but nobody will own, leaving them as `unidentifiable' as ever.
It is easier to guard oneself against a known enemy, but here we have enemies who are part of us and yet no one knows when they may turn into an angry mob; no one knows what might inflame their sensibilities; no one can predict what form of action their anger might translate into.
If such is the danger that lies close, can we afford to stay inactive and silent? Why do we leave the onus of action and voicing the discontent to a select few, who by their very `acknowledged' visibility get labelled as the exceptions rather than the norm? Does it suffice to let them be our voices while choosing to remain mute ourselves?
In the context of our life space today, we are all three — the actors, the respondents and the witnesses. We initiate actions, respond to them, are a witness to them and given our potentials and capacities, also responsible for all three of them. If still the faceless enemy continues to exist and haunt, can we absolve ourselves of the responsibility of being a part of this larger context that is impotent and voiceless?
A character neurosis, which does not remain a discrete, observable part of a patient but instead permeates his/her entire personhood, appears to be characterising our nation today. Our passivity has already seen corruption get institutionalised; and rapes and murders get reduced to mere figures of statistics.
As a society, we no longer feel enraged by the perpetrators; no longer we seek to bring them to justice; we would rather choose to protect ourselves and let the wrong remain, just as long as we remain untouched.
We have learnt to tolerate and live with wrongs rather than choosing to confront them. To find our way out, we need to reflect on and rethink some of the major premises that we hold as citizens; we need to transform our `passive' silence into a voice that becomes an active and potent tool lest we find ourselves silenced forever.
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