Let's talk about the walkabouts

Ira Pande

We all knew that the Queen would die one day and yet her passing away at 96 still feels as if she should have sat on the throne for another four years to equal the records set by her mum (died at 102) and husband (died just short of a century). The pageantry and pomp that enveloped the entire world ever since is pretty bewildering considering that if we Indians had lost someone at that grand age, we would have festooned her bier with balloons and a brass band would have played ‘Come September’ as we took her body to the ghat. Still, to each their own ways of celebrating and mourning, but even the anti-monarchists and carping anti-colonialists sneaked in a peep into the impressive (if unending) spectacle of the royal coffin as it made its stately way from Scotland to London.

I must admit that my heart went out to the ageing new monarch and his ancient consort as they hurtled from one venue to the other to declare that he would henceforth be their King Charles III. Imagine putting on that heavy uniform first thing in the morning, carrying a ceremonial sword and not being allowed a private moment to even pee without a funereal voice or sneaky camera reporting it. It must also be said that his mother at 96 was a prettier sight than the current monarch or his consort. The old lady never cursed leaky pens or barked at an attending lord. In fact, her last appearance was memorable for her sunny smile and outstretched hand to receive a woman who had the shortest tenure of any British PM.

Now that we have an idea of what is happening in Old Blighty, let us turn to another prince and his pageant as he promotes the idea that it is time we declare him king of this realm. Forget for the time being that a large part of his erstwhile kingdom is in other hands and the party (or is it family?) he represents has diminishing followers. Like Charles III, he too has a mother who is still regarded as the better head while he is fast reaching his sell-by date. What’s more, like Charles III, his sister Anne, the Princess Royal, is seen as the more deserving inheritor. Above all, the press is not helping by blotting out most of his photo-op occasions. On the other hand, the loyal BBC suspended all normal programming until the Queen was laid to rest.

The idea of a walkabout has caught the imagination of other pretenders to the throne as well. There is one toothy gent currently in Gujarat after a triumphant (or so he declared) tour of Himachal. His own kingdom is in the throes of a crisis of sorts but he is happy to announce that he is the common man’s hero, no matter what. Nothing dims his enthusiasm, not the fact that Punjab is in dire financial straits and his most trusted ministers are either in jail or on their way to it. He can’t speak either Punjabi or Gujarati but he manages to dupe every new territory into believing that he alone holds the secret to making India No. 1 in record time.

There are some others who are desperately cobbling together a team to collectively take on the present power couple. How far that will succeed is anyone’s guess but with memories of past coalitions dissembling faster than an ice cube, few would consider putting their faith in this alternative. So, every political party is currently on the move but who will win the marathon is still a mystery.

The wiliest one of them all is the one who is working under the radar and away from public scrutiny. He keeps well away from the glare of the TV cameras and the press as he slowly but surely works his way through the darkest areas in Bihar. He plans to use his ‘jan suraj yatra’ to meet, listen and learn. Occasionally, he emerges clad in a simple kurta-pyjama (no Burberry T-shirts for him) and a gamcha (no muffler) wound round his neck. His hand is on the pulse of the common man and what is more, he has a huge army of data gatherers who provide him with the empirical nourishment he needs. So, while one yatri eats in the house of an auto-driver and the other sleeps in a custom-made container, this one is firmly grounded in the land he stalks.

As these various serials play out on the national stage, has anyone given a thought to the woes of the people who have to choose between one lot of hustlers and another? The last fortnight has been a nightmare in Delhi as people choked on its toxic air. The stock market is followed no more. Its place has been taken by the AQI (Air Quality Index) now. We in Delhi have reached a stage that even ‘very poor’ air quality is regarded as acceptable. The roads are relatively free of the traffic that usually chokes them, but the smoke from the killing fields of the neighbouring states and the stinking toxins released by our own garbage dumps are blamed on each other by the political parties that need to shift the blame in the run-up to the elections.

Welcome to the greatest democracy in the world.

#Environment #Pollution