“…but they wrote commentaries on the great men that came before them. They wrote commentaries on commentaries. They described what each other wrote about each other. They just kept writing those commentaries. Writing commentaries is some kind of a disease of the intellect” (Richard Feynman on the Arabic Science scholars who walked the earth during the middle ages).
I am disappointed. And I am dumb.
Deeply disappointed. And superlatively dumb.
There I was, expecting those finely-attired and erudite ladies and gentlemen to wax ineloquent on chat shows and mutual pat debates on TV last evening. I wanted to diligently observe and record how they would tear into Team Anna and Ramdev; how the discussions would meander along meaninglessly before that last, desperate veering-off-the-road-tug on the steering-wheel towards mobocracy, rifts and anarchy (but never Kleptocracy).
Perhaps an insight or two not involving the difference between the PM’s personal integrity and the accountability that his position, unfortunately, has bestowed upon him. How we would all be told what is good for us, and how this uncivil civil movement whose supporters are predominantly a bunch of retarded idiots (Ah, the innuendoes kill me!) who wear an I Am Anna cap in exchange for 100 bucks, is a threat to the revered Institutions that we need to shower rose-petals on thrice a day – after each meal.
Hence, the disappointment. You see, not one channel condescended to indulge me. Being one of those pseudo types who these panelists deride, I only watch English channels – and none of them indulged me. Would you believe THAT?
Now, the tough part. Why dumb? You see, I have not been able to figure out what is it about Team Anna and Ramdev that rankles these men and women of great learning, and drives them up the wall. What gets their goat, nay, the entire herd? What is it that we, the ignorant, illiterate and the great unwashed can’t see, that they can?
I have cracked that riddle, thanks to a comment I read elsewhere on Firstpost. Thank you, Samedifference.
And here is my Eureka moment….
These ladies and gentlemen who sometimes deliberately “pour from empty into void” (Dostoevsky? ) – a despicably healthy mix of legal eagles, some political analysts (who normally choke on the first word when attempting to talk sense), a senior journalist or two (Ah ha! They, the opinion shapers and the change agents; yes Sir, the very same who missed seeing the rot, missed highlighting facts and core issues - pusillanimous as they were, in their Ivory Towers - the last 30 years. Can you believe THAT?)…..they would approve of Team Anna and Ramdev if the following were to happen:
1) Anna Hazare and Ramdev slipped into Guess Jeans and a Fab India Kurta; sipped on a 15 year old Glenfiddich or a Jacob’s Creek (do swirl and sniff it a tad, you country bumpkins), once in a while, as they hobnobbed with the P3P. This is pretty much a sine qua non when it comes to approval ratings by the educated airheads. Furthermore, it would serve Anna’s chances well, were he to drop that topi, and push his Hugo Boss shades up his scalp while it was not sunny. The sun, after all, does not shine always – and at places where it ought to, mostly.
2) Kiran Bedi dressed in gaudy Satya Paul sarees and low-waist Tommy Cigarette silhouette jeans (enzyme-washed, with cat’s whiskers at the crotch and ripped near the knees) on alternate days, wrote cheap trashy books (the titles always start with “S”, or should we pick another letter?) and reviewed/wrote columns about high brow events and masala movies. A gentle dab of Elizabeth Arden or Chanel No 9 on the wrists and behind the ears, would that help? Some botox injections around the lips and cheeks coupled with a heightened sense for coiffure would have helped matters along nicely, too. Wrong jean-pool, Miss Bedi. Get your couture and coiffure right!
3) If Kejriwal tucked in his shirt (VH slim-fits), slipped gingerly into a pair of Hush Puppies and spoke (English, of course) in a bastardized accent with traces from Edinburgh, Chandni Chowk, NY and Dharavi - a mixed accent, lineage unknown. He would do himself a great service, if he pierced his ears and stuck a diamond stud in there as well. Uber cool lends a certain credibility to the word spoken or written, no?
4) Prashant Bhushan had long tresses, and spoke about Dickens and Saki in between pontificating vacuously on kleptocracy. This great ability to jump from D H Lawrences’ bed to Freud’s couch is pretty much a qualifying criteria in this search for acceptance by the “lofty and the beautiful” (Dostoevsky again). If, on the other hand, he wishes to sport a crew-cut (with the receding hairline),let him be the counsel who represents some politician who has accumulated 112 crores of wealth (disproportionate?)….these things count in these neck of the woods, Mr. Bhushan. They count an awful lot. Money talks, and how!
5) Shazia Ilmi? What about an image overhaul for her? Nah….she is just perfect the way she is. The Anokhee or Bandhej (pardon my limited knowledge about women’s ethnic wear brands) kurta, salwaar and dupatta, the enchanting smile (Does it light up the room, or does it?! Well, how would I know?), the way she crinkles her eyes and occasionally, with practiced slow motion, re-adjusts each strand of hair till it is perfectly in place. Traitor! She even has nailed the accent to a perfection….I am afraid the ladies and gentlemen I talked about (the ones who wax ineloquent, and grandly so) would want her to cross over to their side. I am hoping fervently that she does not.
And I wait…..for the soundbites and the columns. The commentaries and the analysis. I wait….a little voice tells me the wait will not be a painstakingly long one.
Disclaimer: Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Dionysus, Hedone and Mammon …not even any angst against haute couture, though I prefer easy going prêt….and there is even a time for the “disease of the intellect”