... corruption floats, India sinks

A Bernard Shaw say begins this way... "Liberty means responsibility..." I say, sadly, too much liberty means irresponsibility and leads to a state of brinkmanship...

Democratic India has so much freedom of choice that she allows a family of Prime Ministers to run a monarchy. Should we not consider it to be an inheritance of corruption?

Around and about whom the popcorn talk is hung to sensationalize the morning hours at the tonsorial parlour, inside the local trains, staff room and through lanes is none other than the social activist Anna Hazare. We only cheer for the day's opening hours to pass in furies of laughter, then slowly walk into our job arenas, have a brisk sophisticated browse through the newspaper and carefully carry out the day's corruption... ourselves... at our every footprint. We the demoralized have just turned Anna Hazare as part of our run-of-the-mill tidings.

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The average life expectancy figure of Indians is 63.7 years. Nobody knows why we find such a terrible pleasure in thickening the political grime and doing nothing literally. In our lifespan, we are more close to churn money at any sector and make pinpricks into others than to drink the natural beauty of the folded sea waves, the bohemian aviation of birds, the dewy-eyed smile of waifs and sweet relationships that go along with our everyday life. Only for our sector-wise toadying to the authority to gain vested interests, Kisan Baburao Hazare, the 74-year old youth, has to fight for a great cause.

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The message of Anna, "The dream of India as a strong nation will not be realised without self-reliant, self-sufficient villages, this can be achieved only through social commitment & involvement of the common man."

Who is the common man? The first half of the Shavian say is followed by, "That’s why most men dread it."

A few days ago, on the dusty floor of our school, we three friends were having a teatime talk, and the topic of corruption intruded into our discussion at a breakneck speed. Naturally came the "man behind RTI revolution". Almost at the end of our discussion, when the little triangle that we three had made slowly broke, I began musing over our working hours and the scenario I am forced to watch and watch over every day. We come to school, teach almost nothing, harvest leisure in maximally allotted five classes and idle away the rest of the time. We open our mouths like sharks when a new month begins ~ and a new layer of monetary medication sellotapes the damages done to our country by us ~ the irresponsible teachers. Since we are irresponsible we besmirch our faces with different political colours (making the whole of the administration that robs us of the ability to think for ourselves and be independent) only to become dependent and irresponsible. We, like unscrupulous mountebanks, show thumbs up to our faineant souls after creating a series of illusory feats in the name of teaching. We, the common, propitiate corruption, and therefore, it seems to be our birthright to get into the progressive putrefaction. Corrupt is our administration, as we, due to our acute accidie and misanthropy, love to enthrone them who bring peaceful laziness. And in this peaceful laziness, peace is nowhere.

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Politicians always dread this peaceful bullet; even we too; we dread the bullet as well. Our politics is independent, however, we have no political independence. We, the small-corrupt humans support Anna and anchor faith in his messiah-like image, an image that reflects his dream aim of India filtered of corruption. We must not forget that the corrupt are always united; but the incorruptible are dispelled from one another.

Sonia Gandhi, another common, is admitted at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Centre (MSKCC), New York, hope she pull through soon and have her royal seat of the Congress chairperson. Even a well-fed Indian will dread the cost, that is at least Rs. 760,112.50 ($16,660) per procedure. We cannot and should not compare her with Vidyasagar's mother, Prabhabati Devi, who could not put on a new woollen shawl only because that the villagers she lived among and loved had nothing to keep themselves warm in the biting cold. Had Sonia Gandhi been our mother or we been her imaginative children, she would have thought to get admitted to a country hospital or asked Rahul to recover the money from the Swiss Bank and make necessary arrangements to distribute provisions among the wretched Indians. India may be considered a shard of a global village; however, we are not villagers. If we glue our hopes to the TRP-raising TV-telecast of Anna Hazare, these layers of moral putridness will not even come within the purview of our mass-media-manipulated thinking.

But our thinking should have been ours ~ modelled on the basis of the folded sea waves, the bohemian aviation of birds, the dewy-eyed smile of waifs and sweet relationships.

While the activist’s critics may keep guessing about his ultimate aspiration, he has achieved what politicians couldn’t: bringing the privileged middle class to the street.

The common, the derivatives of the common, are divided into three groups. The first one raises one's voice like that of Anna; the second one waits for Anna's help to raise his voice. The third one, waits for the hand, which would hold the baton. The common are forced to stay brainless and colonized by the corrupt administration.

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Nothing is wrong if Anna claims the removal of the rotten apples from his country. It is his profession to filter out impurities. However, only a mug of water will be lifted from the Pacific of corruption in a certain period of time, which will be enough to encourage hundred mugs of water to mix with the Pacific. We must admit that some other's profession is to fill in the gaps with polished impurities coated with polished griefs.

My discomfort has risen high and I have started to feel a sense of malaise within me. I think that I have to clean my mouth with unclean water. Up to 63.7 years ~ if not less, if not more ~ I have to live with the Janus-faced monarchical-democratic satisfaction and write a few good lines like... bullets are useless if peace is the trigger... or...

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