All of us have heard the epic tale of Mahabharata. Some of us may have watched it on Doordarshan 25 years ago. A few of us would have read one of its various narrations. But did any of us notice the Mahabharata unfold right in front of us in 2013? If ever there was a year that reminded us of the gripping tale of politics, intrigue, treachery, revenge and war, it has to be 2013. This year had all the ingredients of every Indian’s favourite drama. It had all its characters too. There are different ways to look at the Mahabharata. If seen through the eyes of Sanjay, who narrated it to Dhritrashtra, it could be a violent power struggle, a clash of egos and a slighted woman’s quest for justice against her tormentors. It could be seen as a tragic saga of a blind man’s incessant faith in his power-hungry, incompetent and errant son. All of this, in some way or the other, was part of the 2013 narrative. [caption id=“attachment_1312829” align=“alignright” width=“380”]  Some might even fight to anoint one of them Lord Krishna. PTI[/caption] If seen through the eyes of Krishna, the Mahabharata is the story of what transpires when the ruling class deviates too far from its dharma, its duty; when everybody revolts against the tyranny of injustice, inequity and when people start praying, yearning and pleading for somebody to come forward and cleanse the system. It tells us that somebody always comes forward to wipe out the perpetrators of the rule of adharma. Just one shloka from the Bhagavad Gita sums it up: Yada yada hi dharmasya glanir bhavati bharata, abhyutthanam adharmasya tadatmanam srjamy aham. (Whenever there is decline of dharma and predominance of adharma, at that time I descend). Though there is no Atal Behari Vajpayee to publicly remind us of it, albeit in a different context, 2013 would not have been so engrossing if the UPA had not completely forgotten its Raj Dharma. In public perception it became synonymous with graft, sycophancy, single-minded devotion to a dynasty, inflation, unemployment, injustice and atrocities against women. It is not difficult to identify personalities within the Congress who acquired shades of the protagonists of the Mahabharata. There is the Dhritrashtra-like Sonia, the Bhishma-like Manmohan Singh and Rahul Gandhi, though by no yardstick vile and villainous like Duryodhana, but still a symbol of a ruling family’s desire to perpetuate itself with any means available. And there are the various Shakunis scheming and plotting in the background in the garb of mentoring the Gandhi scion like indulgent maternal uncles. Naming Digvijaya Singh would make his critics happy. But he had competition. All governments are bound to get unpopular with time. But UPA-2 turned almost into an anathema because of its string of failures, scams and unpopular, arrogant, drawing-room leaders. The Congress may not have still realized it, but the Vidhan Sabha elections conclusively proved that people saw it as a symbol of everything that is wrong in our country and society. Victory and loss in an election are part of the game. But the Vidhan Sabha elections were almost like carnage, a merciless purge. Since the Congress had begun to resemble the Kauravas– an unjust, incompetent congregation of darbaris whose only aim is to bring the next generation of the dynasty into power—it was wiped out. Such anger, such electoral annihilation is never seen in an election that is just a contest between two political parties. It is always the result of a war fought for a bigger cause, on deeper issues. When this happens, personalities do not matter, individual traits cease to count. What matters is their allegiance, the side they fight for. So, just as Bhishma, Drona, Kripacharya, Karna—the good guys in the wrong camp—were killed in the Mahabharata, even those with a clean image and a decent track-record were decimated in 2013. Sheila Dixit and Ashok Gehlot can continue to wonder why they were trampled over, but the simple answer is that they represented the wrong side in the good vs the bad. It would be tempting for followers of Narendra Modi and even Arvind Kejriwal to believe that their heroes are Pandavas of this epic. Some might even fight to anoint one of them Lord Krishna. But Modi and Kejriwal were, at best, tools in the fight against the current evil. They were just weapons of mass political destruction— Arjuna’s bow Gaandiv, Bhima’s mace or Krishna’s Sudharshan Chakra. The people were the real Pandavas of this epic, they fought for what is rightfully theirs, avenged—like Draupadi—the pusillanimous quiescence of the establishment that watched in silence when atrocities were being committed on daughters like Nirbhaya/Damini. The people mercilessly destroyed every symbol of the rule of injustice. The BJP and the AAP, in fact, only executed the will of the people; they just heeded to vox populi, which is vox dei. If there is one lesson from 2013, it is this: the collective voice of the people has descended to destroy the rule of adharma. This is not the first time it has happened, this won’t be the last. Modi and Kejriwal shouldn’t forget this. Whoever forgets his dharma would be next on the list.
If there is one lesson from 2013, it is that the voice of the people has descended to destroy the rule of adharma. This won’t be the last time it happens. Modi and Kejriwal shouldn’t forget this.
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