Take an auto (CNG to us) around Delhi on a cool winter morning and enjoy a rare thing called “motorway bliss.” For starters, no one is honking horns like they have been taught that unless you use the car horn to create cacophony, there’s no point in driving. Then, just erase the word “tailbacks” from the mind. Won’t say Delhi does not have traffic jams, but definitely not like the soul-destroying ones we have here in Dhaka.
Can you believe it, sitting in the auto, marveling at the views on both sides of the road, I actually began humming a soft melodic song from the early 80s. Trust me, I could hear the lines myself. Thinking hard to come up with another mega city which can help someone get lost in intoxicating introspection. Nope, can’t think of many …
Every time I go to Delhi, I notice that the city has taken several steps towards disciplined modernism. This also means that when you are shopping in a large marketplace, the public toilet is not too far away, and once you go inside, the stench does not assail you.
No one was looking left and right trying to make the best use of some dark, unobtrusive corner. The metro rail system has worked wonders for the city, keeping the roads clean and rather tranquil.
So, what do the people of the capital of India think of the way ahead? Well, while Europe is grappling with the obdurate grip of economic blues, and Germany, the much-vaunted saviour, is also inching towards a slowdown, the mood here in India seems upbeat. After all, there’s a new government, says the auto driver resolutely.
Modi is the wonder-man of the moment. The leader and his plans for change and reforms have gotten millions of non-resident Indians in a state of trance. In Australia, scores of NRIs came to listen to the leader and voice their roaring approval.
It reminded me of the initial days when Tony Blair stormed to number 10, elbowing out the corrosive conservative system with marked gusto. There was the messiah and his message for a New Britain.
And change did come. That period was perhaps economically the most productive for the UK, with unemployment reaching an all-time low.
The fairytale did not last long, as we all know. Clouds of a war based on false information sucked Blair into a maelstrom from which he never recovered.
The halo was lost, the charm evaporated, and the words of hope deemed mere vacuous rhetoric.
Hopefully, Modi’s moment under the sun will not disregard the lessons learned from similar hero-worship not too long ago. While India needs to solidify the image of an Asian powerhouse, other issues like relations with South Asian neighbours need to be cultivated with prudence.
It’s of course true that with the ascendancy of Modi, there has been the resurgence of the Hindutva ideology. It’s not something to worry about. Any country has the right to base their forward momentum on her majority faith, but perhaps this revival should have more of a compassionate edge to it.
Talking about fanaticism, as I was in Delhi, the never-dying saga of the holy guru Rampal was being played out with all theatrics as the police stormed his heavily-guarded residing place in Haryana.
The paramilitary had to be called in because the guru’s Asram (refuge) had several layers of protection, starting with a force comprised of former army personnel. The last level of shield for the holy man was created by women and children.
The news of the storming of the place to catch Rampal, accused of inciting sedition and attempted murder in 2006, played out to the whole nation via TV.
Thousands of frenzied acolytes of the holy man defied the onset of winter to create lines of almost unassailable defense for their guru, who reportedly said, after the eventual arrest, that he was busy meditating and had no idea that his people were engaged in a stand-off with the police.
This was another side to India, utterly dissonant with the modernised part of the country. The guru culture is ingrained in the psyches of a lot of people, lamented the late Khushwant Singh in one of his books on the irrationalities that plague Indian life.
Despite being denounced in writing and in public by many liberals, this trend continues with a vengeance. Whether the holy person possesses special powers or not, a personality cult is weaved around him by disciples who eventually benefit from the spread of popularity of their leader. It’s an elaborate Ponzy scheme where religious verses are used to cover up the actual scam.
On top of that, reportedly, since such faith-based gatherings are often ignored by the law, they provide the best places for all political machinations to be planned without raising any suspicion. Also alleged is that Rampal was bathed in milk which was later used to make “kheer” (semolina) and served to his followers.
The culture of faith-healers with an army of devotees is rampant in Bangladesh too, and as I was reading about Rampal I suddenly remembered a group of people living in a Dhaka city shantytown, pledging their allegiance to one Goni Shah, believed to be sort of a divine leader.
While Goni Shah has not made a large mansion with a swimming pool yet, like the one Rampal possessed, his followers also take his words/counsel as gospel, eagerly eating the food blessed by him. Maybe the house with the pool is not too far away.
In the modern age, these holy gurus do not propagate austerity and stoicism any more. They are “bling” faith leaders, making a shrewd blend of spirituality and sensual pleasure.
Riding the auto rickshaw and enjoying the sprawling Lodhi gardens on one side, I became a bit philosophical – in an age of consumerism, if faith-based credo can be packaged in razzmatazz and delivered with guile (which Rampal failed to do), maybe it can also find a place to fit in, albeit on the periphery of logical thinking.
A BMW swiftly passes my auto and I catch the lines from the the Bollywood number “Devil mera Yarr” (the Devil is my pal) and I sit back to relax, Lord Byron’s immortal lines ringing in my ear: “Pleasure’s a sin, and sometimes sin’s a pleasure.”
