Blood On Our Hands

Like my billion plus countrymen, I watched with horror the massacre ofinnocents taking place in Mumbai at the hands of psychopaths. My insides wereroiled with a nauseating mix of fear, anger, helplessness and frustration thatsomeone could take advantage of our open society and wreak such mayhem. It feltlike one of my loved ones was being raped and I couldn’t do much other thanwatch helplessly.

Soon fear and frustration turn to anger and I looked for someone to blame.Police and politicians were the obvious targets, and all you had to do was openyour eyes to find people everywhere baying for their blood. I joined the chorusline… only to find my fingers pointing back at me.

How am I to blame for what happened in Mumbai, you ask?

Because I allowed it. Because I didn’t demand more from my leaders. BecauseI’m too afraid to protest and too complacent to care. This isn’t the firsttime Mumbai has been attacked and – I hope I’m wrong – this probablywon’t be the last. And I know what’s going to happen: after the initial fewdays of outrage, we’ll go back to living our lives, hurrying to catch localtrains, reading about the latest affairs of the film stars, shaking our headsthat the Indian cricket team hasn’t performed well and wondering why the priceof onions has doubled. Such is life in a metro.

Don’t smirk, you are in on it too.

You protest … but you forget. You get angry… but you forgive. You are sogullible that year after year after year you will continue to vote your caste inplace of casting your vote. You will vote for people who pledge ‘MarathiPride’ as their sole mantra and renaming ‘Bombay’ ‘Mumbai’ their soleachievement. You will forget that they’ve done nothing for the city’ssecurity other than round up impoverished Bangladeshis from shantytowns andpacked them on trains bound for the border. You will tolerate the currentgovernment that is so emasculated that it cannot control local rabble-rouserslet alone diffuse the machinations of a foreign terrorist group. You toleratethe fact that these public ‘servants’ have –at our expense– theprotection of five commandos with sub-machine guns for themselves and theirfamilies, while, to protect a thousand you and me there is one policemanstanding with a bamboo stick.

Don’t, please don’t! Please, demand from your leaders the withdrawal oftheir personal protection unless they can assure us of the same. Demand thatthey cannot zoom through traffic by putting on sirens and have police clearing apath while we sit and sweat in jams. Demand that they cannot go on trips to MayoClinic in the US while we are left to die in the rotting public hospitals.Demand that they cannot get uninterrupted power supply while millions of ourchildren read under flickering kerosene lamps. Demand that they cannot holdoffices for which they don’t have the minimal qualifications demanded atentry-level positions. Demand that when we are footing the bill for theirexpenses, we get to say no, and if they don’t agree, they have to go.

Don’t fall into the myth that they need more security than you or I do.Politicians are not any more irreplaceable than a doctor, or a lawyer, a clerkor a business owner or any other Indian. But an essential part of apolitician’s job description is that if they want to steer this ship calledIndia, they have to be like the ship’s captain… the last one off the boatwhen there is trouble.