Marxmen vs Rajiv Gandhi
Transcript of Marxmen vs Rajiv Gandhi
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A MARXIST TRIAL
A play in four scenes
Ather Farouqui
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Dramatis Personae
Amit Kumar: a young man from Uttar Pradesh. He boasts a pedigree of great
distinction hailing from the erstwhile landed aristocracy and with a father who is aminister in Indira Gandhis cabinet. Not surprisingly, he is a product of a prominentpublic school and a prestigious red-brick college, which is run by Anglicans of theChurch of England. A postgraduate student of jurisprudence at Oxford, he had taughtthis along with constitutional law while working for his DPhil.
Sunitha Kumar: an exceptionally bright and loquacious girl from the south ofIndia and a regular visitor to Oxford on weekends. She is pursuing her PhD inagricultural economics at Cambridge and hopes to return to her homeland to imposeher revolutionary ideas on Indias unwary peasants.
Prem Kumar: Sunithas fianc, pursuing his PhD in modern history from Oxford,is a Rhodes Scholar. His family, with roots in western Uttar Pradesh, has contributed
to the ranks of the Indian Civil Service for over two generations and he too cherishesa desire to continue that legacy.
Rajiv Ranjan Jha: a youth from Bihar belonging to the landed aristocracy. Hehas studied in a prestigious boarding school situated in the hillsIndias hillstations are dotted with such schoolsestablished by Protestant Americanmissionaries. Later, he attended one of the premier colleges of the country run byChristian missionaries. His father retired as a Chief Justice of the Supreme Court ofIndia.
John Samuel: born with the proverbial silver spoon and bred in the best graces ofNew Delhis intelligentsia. Alumnus of one of Delhis top missionary schools
established in 1941 by the Catholic diocese, later Samuel attended New DelhisJawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), from where he completed his masters indisarmament. His father happens to be a Professor at JNU and his maternal uncle theVice-Chancellor of this strong left bastion.
Aftab Alam: a student from Lucknow. His antecedents are not revealed.
Alice Matthews: a graduate student of British origin with idealistic values and adeep hatred of middle-class double standards.
David Shackle: Professor of Modern History, he has worked on and has a deepinterest in post-independence India. His insight into and perception of contemporary
India, although well intended, often miss the mark.
(All characters are hardcore Marxists in their worldview)
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SCENE I
STAGE SETTING
The drawing room of a sprawling ministerial bungalow at Lutyens New
Delhi. This is the official residence of Amit Kumar, a prominent Indian
politicianOxford-educated, urbane, about sixty years of age. His
house is spacious, well-appointed, with books, flowers and strategically
placed hampers of exotic chocolates in abundance. The huge French
windows usher in sunlight and open out to meticulously tended green
lawns set-off by floral borders that are a riot of colours. The time is
today, 2013.
As the play opens, Amit is pacing up and down, frequently glancing at
his watch. The air is rife with expectation. Just then, Amits man-Friday,
Laddan, enters the room with a silver tea service and a plate of
freshly-baked scones. Laddan is about fifty, but full of energy and with
a twitch in his face that is both endearing and irritating.
Laddan: Sahib, this gentleman for whom you are so anxiously
waiting, like, let me tell you, is useless; for whom you cancelled your
meeting with the PM, for whom you have kept like three TV crews
waiting outside your door, who he is? What can he do for you? In
politics not single minutes should be wasted on a person who cannot
use to you. And why he is so important? Why, you tell me? (He gets
even more agitated, but Amit smiles benevolently as he is aware that
this attack is a sign of Laddans loyalty to him). You said he will come
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timely, and also how long will he be staying? (An awful din can be
heard in the background which interrupts Laddans diatribe and
irritated, his face muscles spasm even more). These pesky kids at the
traffic signal, what noise they are making! They should be all packed
into you know into some slum. Huh!
Amit: Tsk, tsk, dont be so harsh Laddan mian! Those kids at the traffic
intersection they are the wretched of the earth; dishevelled street
children who, in a bid to earn their daily meagre bread, try to sell
tawdry Chinese-made goods to impatient drivers of imported cars.
They are our reality; dont brush them under the carpet!
Laddan: What carpet? Arent they all clean? Im sure they were
brushed by our maid yesterdayAnd retched of what? What are you
saying? Sahib you say a lot of things that just go over my head,
phoooooooooooosh! Anyway, what was I saying? Yes, right now you
should be focussing on the elections; you must win your constituency,
make contacts with rich rich and power people who will be helping
hand in our party in the next elections and giving us huge donations
which, even you lose suppose, it will help you survive in your king-size
life before you again win next round of elections and again become
minister. Will this Englishman be any help in this pursuitful endeavour?
Amit: Wah Laddan mian, your English is really improving! And your
questions are very pertinent, but right now if you close your eyes and
count to threevery slowlythe doorbell will ring and our guest will
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arrive at 11 am on the dot, as he promised. Are you ready? Close your
eyes. (Laddan with great reluctance closes his eyes, as does Amit)
Very good! Now count with me: one, two, and(before they can say
three, the bell rings). There! I told you soLaddan mianProfessor
Shackle is not only an Angrez, but also a retired professor from Oxford,
and my guru. He did not become such a great scholar from being
tardy. Now go quickly and open the door, and please speak to him only
in Hindi. After hearing the way you speak English, which is very good
for Indians like me, but not good enough for these Angrez, the good
Professor will scamper back to his homeland. Ha! Ha! (Then with a
straight face) I hope you understand. (Laddan stares at Amit, opens his
mouth, but refrains from saying anything)
Amit: Go, go, go (and Laddan disappears into the hallway to answer
the doorbell as Amit laughs. There is a murmur of mixed voices from
beyond that is not quite audibleAmit seems exited to the point of
agitation and clasps his hands in anticipation)
Laddan: Welcome, welcomecome income in
Professor Shackle: Namaste, namastekaise hain aap?
Amit: Very fine, very fineand you, howyou do?
Professor: Main bhi theek hoonbilkul theek.
Laddan: Mr Amit is in waiting for you with great joy.
Professor:To phir der kis baat kichalo, chalo
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(And then the two of them enter the room. Amit and the Professor
stand apart and look at each other with great wonder. Then suddenly
they fling their arms and embrace warmly.)
Professor: Amit, just look at you. Still as stately as everwaah. Here
(he hands Amit a roughly packed parcel) is a piece of India that I
thought would be appropriate for our rendezvous. But mind you open it
after I leave
Amit: Shukriya; Nazar-e-inayat hai aapki(both laugh)but sir, you
dont look a day older! Even after more than thirty years. (He hands
the package to Laddan who roughly puts it down on an adjacent
antique table with more force than is necessary).
Professor: do not remind me-do not remind meJawaani bhi gayi,
seemaabwaghera, waghera Look I still remember the sher of a
ghazal you recited at Oxford.
Amit(completes the couplet): fasl-e gulfashaani bhi, main ab taa-
der mehfil mein ghazalkhwaan rah nahin sakta (a round of applause
and just then another person enters the rooma beautiful, middle-
aged English womandressed in Indian clothes. She claps for the
couplet, and adresses Amit): Huzoor, your youth is far from gone.
(Amit is stunned and the Professor seems to savour the moment).
Amit: Alice, is it you? Is it really you?
Alice: no, it is my grandmother(all laugh).
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Professor: This was the surprise for youas she always was, and
always will be.
Alice: Amit, just look at you, as handsome as ever. You know, you
were the only Indian student in Oxford who did not chase me or
anything in skirt. And I can tell you now; you were also the only Indian
student I wanted to chase, skirt or otherwise!
Amit (chuckling at the good-humoured leg pulling): If I had only
knownif I had only known, Alas!
Professor: It is never too latenever too late!
Amit: What an absolute joy to see the two of youamazingsit, sit
Laddan, stop staring and bring the tea and scones for everyone(and
after a moments pause) No, bring samosas instead.
Amit: Professor sahib, you still love samosas I gather?
Professor: They are the only love of my life but you have forgotten
that I like qeemey ka samosa which was introduced to me by Maulana
Azad when I met him as a young research scholar.
AliceQeemey ka Samosa and Indian historythe only two loves of
your life.
Professor: for me these are like teree aankhen as described by Faiz:
teree aakhon ke siva duniya main rakha kya hai
(They all sit downa moment of silence)
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Professor: Amit, I have been following your career from afar,
wonderful! What you have done, your achievements! You have become
more than a politician, you have emerged a true statesman!
Amit: Very kind of you, sirbut ask the Opposition members of
Parliament, and they might have a different view.
Alice: I knowI knowAmit, I have been working in India on and off
and for many years; I have been running a school for physically
challenged children in England, and we have a sister school here in
Haryana. So, I, too, have been following your career.
Amit: aah! so I have been under the microscope without even
knowing about itlike an electron in a confused atom!
Professor: You were always confused and that was your charm
because you admitted that you were confused, and always sought to
end that confusion.
Amit: It was that search that brought me to Oxford, and then into
politicsIndian politicswhere to be confused is often viewed as a
sign of wisdom!
(Laddan enters with tea and samosas)
Laddan: Mr Professor, I hope my humble offering retches up to your
expectations.
(They all grimace at the mispronunciation but the Professors good
nature does not permit him to mock Laddan and he looks at the latter
with strange affection and takes a bite of the samosa)
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Professor: Waahbilkul, ummeedon se bhi aageI did not expect
that Amit would remember my love for Qeemey key samosey!
(Laddan withdraws to the other room with a flourish)
Amit: Sir, what brings you to India?
Professor: A very special quest. My Grail Quest if you will!
Alice: He wanted to find me, like all romantic men.
Professor: aahwould that this were true!
Amit: Alice, I see that your opinion of the male species has not
changed over the years.
Alice: the truth is eternal(all laugh).
Amit: like your beauty
Professor: bas, bas. You two can romance at leisure. Right now, listen
to me as you never listened to my lectures (again laughter
unbecoming of their standing or age, but makes them regress into
studentsalmost).
Amit: Alice, thirty-three years ago, on a lovely fall evening in Oxford,
we had gathered in Amits humble dwellings, typical Oxford digs, and
had a most animated discussion about the future of India and Indian
politics, especially the future centring on Rajiv Gandhis initiation into
Indian politics. Do you remember?
Amit: How could I forget? It was an evening that changed my life!
Alice: Changed your life?
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Amit: Yes, because it made me think, probably for the first time,
beyond books and libraries and classroom lectures. It made me really
think about my own future, and the future of my country!
Professor: I knew it! I knew it! Now, do you remember the other
people in your room that evening?
Amit: Of course! I remember every one and the conversation too-
verbatim; it is as if that evening is etched on my memory forever
there was
Alice: Me!
Professor: I!
Alicealways the professor, always the professor!
Amit: oh, yes-you were there, all right. And what a speech you gave
you put Indian manhood in its place forever!
Alice: Was it that bad?
Amit: No, it was that true(all laugh).
Professor: Rightthere was Alice, there was you, there was Iand?
Amit: Sunitha Kumarthough from Cambridge but intelligent! And her
fianc, Prem Kumar, was working on his PhD in Modern Indian History
from Oxford.
Professor: A Rhodes Scholar, of course.
Amit: Of course, but Sunitha was no less bright. Her PhD was in
Agricultural Economicsagriculture, economics, and modern historya
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formidable combination. And it was her letter that sparked off the
evenings discussion.
Professor: Yes, her leftist misgivings about Rajiv Gandhi entering
politics!
Amit: Precisely.
Professor: And then you answered her letter with one of your own.
Amit: Oh, myI was brave and daring in those days!
Professor: But, Amit, where are they now? Sunitha and Prem?
Amit: Aah! They had both done rather well for themselves,
unfortunately now no more with us. Sunitha taught economics at Delhi
University, and was very highly regarded in her field. And Prem was a
Civil Servant, in cadre and also in manners; and both of them had kept
their leftist cards so close to their chests, that they quite forgot what
they looked like.
Professor: Amit, you always had a way with wordsand with
thoughts.
Amit: Hence I am a politicianalas.
Professor: And Rajiv Ranjan Jha. He has also become a politician via
journalism; although, I have heard, from the opposite camp.
Amit: Oh, yesJha, a would-be Nawab from Bihar, father Chief Justice
in the Supreme Court, attended a missionary boarding school in the
hills, then a Christian college in Delhiand now spouts venom in T.V.
shows and in his writings against the very people who educated him;
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but on a personal level, he is a gentleman and kind to friends. I dont
think he can be communal. Seldom when he speaks rightist nonsense
anybody believes him; often people laugh at him and more often he
joins the fray and seems to enjoy itthere is nothing more earnest
then self-deprecating humour, so his rightist leanings can be forgiven,
dont you think?
Professor: Such positive cynicismtypical of you Amit!
Amit: I cannot be discourteous to a fellow Oxon. We still meet, and
talk about Oxford, and even play cricket together now and then.
Alice: And John Samueloh, my! You will not believe this! The other
day I saw someone I thought was a beggar, near Ajoy Bhavan. And
then he suddenly called out my name. I looked closely, and it was John!
Either drunk or stoned, not sure, but very happy. He ordered tea for
me, and quoted at length from Marx and Lenin and then asked whether
I was married or not, and when I said I no longer was, his demeanour
changed, and I realized it was time for me to leave.
Professor: Oh, myI would say, what a waste of talent! But maybe
not. John was a brilliant writerbrillianthis pamphlets could make
even the most devout capitalist into a communist; but I do not think he
ever really wanted to workjust to be
Amit: And with a father teaching at JNU and an uncle as Vice-
Chancellor, he never had to really work. Every now and then he comes
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to see mefor a cup of tea and a smoke and a talk. His knowledge is
still amazing but it is limited only to his words, I am afraid.
Professor: Who does that leave?
Alice: Aftabthe handsomest of all of yousorry, Amit, but facts are
facts!
Amit: No arguments. Aftab Alamthe light of the worldalways was,
always will be. He lit up Oxford, and he now lights up Indias leading
industrialist consortium as its Secretary General. He and I often meet,
and he still charms the world with his words and his wisdom.
Professor: Wonderful! What journeyswhat journeysand Alice, you?
You run a school for the physically challenged? Marvelous!
Alice: And before you askyou two men! Yes, I forgot Monudeep
almostafter he left Oxford and got married, I, too got married. And it
almost survivedmy marriagebut did not, in the end. And, yes,
Monudeep and I still email each other. Any more questions?
(Both men genuflect in mock tribute)
Professor: Now, Amit, somehow I want to go back to the evening in
80. The latter half of 80; after Sanjay Gandhis death. Somehow I
want to go back and again feel that energy, again ask those questions,
again search for those answerswith all of you
Amit: Sir, because of you we asked those questions and tried to give
those answers!
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Professor: No, Amit. It is because you are from a country where
questions are still asked, and answers still soughtgive yourself due
credit.
(Silence as Laddan comes in with more tea)
Professor : Laddan sahibaap bataeeyeRajiv Gandhi kaisey
Pradhan Mantri the?
Laddan: Great, very great, very very great but Madam is also great!
Professor: Madam?
Laddan: Soniaji, our leader, a very great lady!
Alice: Do not be afraid of Amit sahibtell us what you really think.
Amit:Haan, Laddan Mian, bataye, bataye, fikr mat kijiye, yeh log
Hindustani jouranliston ke tarah aap ki kahi hui koi baat Soniaji ko nahi
batayenge
Laddan: Rajivji was very goodvery goodotherwise, you speak to
Sonia-ji
(There is a sudden silence, and then a round of controlled laughter)
Amit: Arrey Laddan Mian, let us have some music. Professor you
should listen to this rendering of one of my favourite ghazals by...
(words fade away as do the lights while the music gets more
pronounced and plays for a while to enable the actors to prepare for
the next scene).
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Scene 2
STAGE SETTING
Summer of August 1980, when it is vacation time at Oxford, but when
research scholars stay put on campus and participate in free-wheeling
discussions and debates. A large room of a senior research scholar-
cum-lecturer in the teachers court of a college at Oxford. The room is
divided into two, with the outer portion serving is a study and the
inner, which is not in focus, as living quarters. The outer portion is
lined with bookcases, a few chairs and an antique writing table. It is
evident from the vocabulary of these young students that they are
hardcore Marxists, many highly influenced by Leon Trotsky.
Amit: (Amit starts reading the letter aloud but slowly the writer of the
letter, Sunitha, appears in the background and speaks as the light
dims over Amit and focuses on her.) Dear Amit:
As you know, Prem and I plan to return to India in a few months time,
to get married and settle down in our respective professions. This will
be the best way of realizing our dreams of a proletarian revolution, a
movement more powerful than the one for freedom. India needs
another revolution, and in the changed scenario, Oxbridge is just an
oasis. Our karmbhoomi should be India. It is upon us to carry forward
the great legacy of Marx and Engels, embellished further by Lenin.
Because of them our beloved red flag flutters gloriously over one-third
of the world today. It would be no exaggeration to say that it is due to
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Marxist revolutions that colonization has waned and our motherland
breathes the fresh air of democracy.
I fear, however, that our efforts might count for nothing. I spoke to
Prem a few minutes back on the phone. He is in India for his parents
30th wedding anniversary but will be returning tomorrow. I am sharing
with you the shocking news he gave meRajiv Gandhi plans to enter
politics! I wonder if our decision to go back to a country which is
destined to doom is right. Suddenly, I am not so sure. The exploitation
of farmers back home perturbs me constantly. I have always wanted to
liberate them from the clutches of bourgeois terror. We have to do
away with all patricians and lords. We have to resolve all class
antagonisms. This is why I plan to join a university there, to train the
finest young minds in agricultural economics, which is very vital for
bringing about a revolution in agriculture. You will agree that a
farmers revolution is the only way to save India, of which our
comrades have been dreaming and planning for decades now. Of
course, any agricultural revolution will have to start with land reforms.
We also have plans to publish a literary journal, to which the finest
from academia could contribute. The content, we feel, should have a
leftist orientation if it is to benefit our society. It should be a medium to
further the class struggle.
As you know, Prem has some great ideas about reforms in various
sectors, especially the Civil Service. After all, two generations of his
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family have served with great pride in the Civil Service and, in all
probability, the coming generation will follow suit. Prem too is planning
to opt for it. He wants to be part of the executive of a modern,
representative state. This looks to him the way forward to address the
issues of equity and governance. He, of course, has two very good
offers, one from a British company owning tea gardens and another
from Burmah Shell. He may accept one of these, to start with. But
eventually, joining the IAS remains his goal.
As for me, I would like to sign up with an institution that undertakes
cutting-edge research. I would prefer not to be confined to a narrow
beat, because when it comes to academics, I favour an
interdisciplinary approach. I have a great aversion to academic
activities which are at the beck and call of big businesses, glorifying
bourgeois chauvinism. We have to harness the productive forces for
the benefit of the proletariat. The shrewd bluff of the industrial houses
was first called by the great visionary Nehru and, certainly, Prime
Minister Indira Gandhi is no less a visionary. These industrial houses
are still out to destroy old-established national industries and replace
these by their explorative ventures.
Had Pandit Nehru and Indiraji both not fully understood the shrewd
modus operandi of capitalism, Indians, by now, would have become
slaves of a few big business families. Indian economics, I feel, has to
have unique, indigenous roots, with Marxist underpinnings, of course
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taking inspiration from successful non-capitalist systems, as we all
know for a fact that it is only the proletariat that can bring about a
Marxist revolution. But this is not possible unless we completely
understand the dynamics of dialectics without digressing from Marxist
principles and practices in the name of interpretation as and when
circumstances change. You know how fervent I am about ideological
issues, hence this note. I thought of calling up Prem again, but it is not
easy to discuss all this long-distance. So I decided to write to you, a
dear friend, patient listener and a good host with perfect mannersa
real gentleman. Your family is in politics associated with Congress.
Who knows better than you the sociology of Indian politics and the
working of our political leaders? We also hold your scholarly work on
law and jurisprudence at Oxford in great admiration. You are steeped
in the Nehruvian tradition though you are not in Cambridge, alas!
I digress, so let me pick up where I left the thread of this letter: without
Panditji, even Gandhis vision could not have been realized. It is also
true that because of him, left-wing political parties in India, particularly
the CPI, are forced to follow a centrist path. This has helped suppress
extremist positions and saved them from being excluded from
parliamentary politics. I wonder if you would still like to return to the
motherland, when you have no chance of becoming Prime Minister,
now that Rajiv Gandhi is set to enter politics. As just an MP or a junior
Minister, you will have to bow and scrape to a person who, my
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comrades here in Cambridge are certain, does not even hold a basic
degree. I have neither the time nor the inclination to research his
qualificationsthat is, if he has any. Moreover, I dont want to be
impolite to him, considering he is a Cambridge alumnus, the breeding
ground of most of the top communist leaders and intellectuals in India.
I also believe that as a person he is basically nice, true to the tradition
of Anglican gentlemen.
What an irony, though, that a pilot will one day become our Prime
Minister. I am sending a copy of this note to all our comrades in
Oxbridge. It is with a sense of desperation that I seek their advice on
how India can be saved. If Prem insists on returning to India, I will not
resist. You know how much I love him and how earnestly we wish to
get married. I know his family expects a lot from him. My father, a
scientist, also rendered great service to the country. It is only by
chance that Nehru and he were at Cambridge together. My father,
fortunately, put his knowledge to the best use of the country.
Let us not for a second deviate from our aim of complete revolution
and stopping Rajiv Gandhi from becoming the Prime Minister. We need
to end dynastic politics in India. We need to get away from the
clutches of these burglars. This is not possible without a total
revolution, which seems imminent. This revolution will not exactly be
the one visualized by Marx and Lenin, but will be based on the ideology
projected by Trotsky.
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With revolutionary regards,
Comradely,
Sunitha
Amit (reading out a letter he has penned in reply):
Dear Sunitha:
Your letter is very thought-provoking and raises a lot of issues. I share
your concern and wonder if Prem and you, along with your comrades,
could meet me on Friday evening in my digs for a detailed discussion. I
am sure we will all squeeze in somehow. I know this will spoil a
pleasant summers evening for you, but discussing the future of India
with a view to saving it for the rule of the proletariat will be time well
spent. There will be plenty of good sherry on the house. I look forward
to welcoming you.
Yours sincerely
Amit
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Scene 3
STAGE SETTING
The same as the previous scene. A group of five Indian students, along
with a British girl, Alice, and Professor David Shackle in Amit Kumars
room.
Amit: Good evening all. Good evening, Professor Shackle.
Professor Shackle: Good evening Amit. Sunithas invitation
prompted me to join you. Nothing interests me as much as the subject
of post-independence India. Had to swallow the bait (grins).
Amit: Sure Professor, your words will help us in disentangling the dark
colonial web. (Welcoming Alice): Nice to see you.
Alice:Thanks Amit. A summers twilight to ponder over the future of a
country with a lot of potential and which is ripe for a revolutionthe
prospect seems enchanting. I have been boning up on the post-
independence history of India and I must admit, I have grown pretty
tired of punting.
Amit: Genius has a flair for words! But Alice, why are you so cynical
about Indias present? Is Monudeep a reason for it?
Alice: I am surprised that you have deconstructed cynicism in one
clause! (After a long pause) I confess, you are partially right. By
mentioning him you have hit the bulls-eye. I am afraid Monudeep has
returned to Calcutta for good. His parents have found a suitable match
for him. A pescetarian virgin! Bowing to his parents wishes, Monudeep
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is now delivering sermons on the spiritual aspects of love. A recent
survey shows that educated Indian girls and women are masters of
false moaning to keep their unsuspecting boyfriends and husbands in
good humour, rather making fools of them, particularly those girls who
belong to the elite club and who lose their virginity without a second
thought and deftly fool their husbands on their wedding night,
convincing them that the coy bride has never heard of lovemaking. As
a matter of fact, Monudeep revealed the astonishing dimensions of
Indian morality that if a lady sleeps with her fianc, he never trusts her
and always thinks that she must have slept with others as well. I am
sure any British psychiatrist will go to loony if I narrate to him all that
Monudeep told me about Indian mens bestial acts with their newly-
wed brides in the bridal chamber. I have decided to cut off all contact
with him. The Bengali match is thanks to his father who, by the way,
met his future daughter-in-law here at Cambridge while she was
studying for her masters in English. Not because she loved English
literature or the so-called synchronic value for literature in Bengalis,
which is a complete farce but because it would fetch her a good
Bengali match. Talk of hypocrisy! Oh and Monudeeps parents look
down on anything Indian and, in keeping with their class
consciousness, they want their daughter-in-law to be a typical Bengali
Brahmin of aristocratic lineage. Picture perfect of course complete with
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false moans and allwhat a travesty! And serves Monudeep right for
he deserves every bit of this charade! I hate Indians!
(Alices voice rises and she ends up crying, making the atmosphere
sombre, with nobody knowing what to say. Amit looks visibly upset).
Amit (Finally summoning up courage): Friends, shall we get down to
business? Please help yourselves to some sherry. May I request
Sunitha to fire the opening salvo?
Sunitha(putting on her game face): Comrades, lend me your ears and
tongues before pilot Rajiv Gandhi crashes Indian democracy by
becoming the Prime Minister and wrecking our future. Actually, after
hearing the news about Rajiv joining politics I wrote to Amit, with a
copy to all of you. So here we are. Let me start by saying that we are
not even sure whether Rajiv Gandhi became a pilot on merit. But it is
certain now that he will become our Prime Minister. As I wrote to you,
he probably did not even complete his graduation. He got enrolled in a
flying club owing to that much-celebrated family name. Of course,
none of us have the time or inclination to research something as
insignificant as Rajiv Gandhis graduation, but we are very concerned
about a mere pilot becoming the Indian Prime Minister. Amit, what say
you?
Amit (playing Devils advocate): But dont you think he should be
given a chance like any other Indian citizen?
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(An immediate outcry as Sunitha voices everyones opinion) Sunitha:
By reducing such a complex matter to this simplistic level, you are
trying to insult our perceptions. Rajiv Gandhi is much more than an
ordinary citizen. Why do you think we are gathered here? Although we
shouldnt forget that he is just a symbol and his importance is limited
to this discussion.
Amit: Be that as it may, Rajiv Gandhi is a manifestation of
dynasticism, which for you comrades is no less than fascism as neither
U.S.S.R nor China has any experience of democracy! His elevation
bodes ill for a young democracy. If the dynasty survives, everything
will be destroyed. But I think that it should be left to the people of
Amethi to choose, dynasty or no dynasty.
Rajiv: Everything related to Rajiv Gandhi is bound to be undemocratic
in the present system.
John: Exactly! What is strange about it?
Sunitha(mumbling): The media is also in his right pocket!
Amit: Cant that be fought on an ideological basis?
Sunitha: Nonsense. The major newspapers are owned by industrialists
and edited by their chamchas, to whom Nehru never gave a lift,
working tirelessly only for the survival of the National Herald. Of
course, Ms Gandhi has followed Nehrus line as far as the media is
concerned. But in the overall scheme of things, media management
will be sidetracked into shabby arguments. We are talking of the future
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of a country here, where common people should choose a candidate
and it should appear as their free choice, not some match fixed in the
dressing room.
Amit: What do you mean? If he loses electorally, then would you
consider him to be an actual winner?
John (taking a deep breath): Of course, yes. As of now, India is not a
democracy. Democracy means something else. Look at China.
Amit: Which year?
John (Sternly): In 1977, when the CPI (M) came to power in West
Bengal and the Congress became history in the politics of the state,
didnt you see the cultural revolution through the student movement
and the teaching fraternity as a reflection of the great Chinese model?
Amit: Student and teachers movement and China. I mean a
movement that is not planted by the government. Alright! In West
Bengal, where I am sure the CPI (M)s teacher and student unions will
make our universities another instance of the killing fields of
Kampuchea. There will just be the politics of slash and burn. The
college and university teachers will resemble the habitants of the
collective farms and psychiatric wards of Russia. The university
departments and colleges will become the blood-soaked streets of
Poland and when the movement of the non-working will start appealing
to the teachers in other states, it will spread all over the country,
making the whole educational system something of a graveyard. Talk
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of a revolution! The first notable achievement of the CPI (M)
government was the strikes that it organized in hospitals, including
emergency wards, something that until then was unheard of. I have
great confidence in the skills of leftist trade unions and their
philosophy of dismantling the very basis of any institution which can be
of some use to nation building in a young democracy like ours. Please
take it from me that if the CPI (M) survives even one term, the workers
of the State will completely forget about working. The whole of West
Bengal will turn into one vast adda. The states economy will survive
on the tax payers money from the rest of India, which the Centre will
provide to avoid another famine. So, we have a new religion, namely
that of the CPI (M), and it is the new opiate of the masses. I am not a
soothsayer and the CPI (M) does not need my advice, but by the time
its term in West Bengal is over, the state would have certainly seen a
situation of a civil war and insolvency, which could spread across the
whole country. Is it with blood that you want to paint out country red?
Professor Shackle: Sunitha, I can see that middle class morality will
not permit any change. Historically, Bengal soon forgot the great
famine, because the urban bourgeoisie, though very small in size, was
decisive in policymaking and was not affected by it. Every inconvenient
truth, thus, becomes an aberration for it. In India, the elite and the
middle class have no explanation for poverty because they remain
unaffected. They lead a privileged existence. The bourgeoisies
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favourite pastime is self-perpetuationand Rajiv Gandhi belongs to its
ranks, a protector of these chartered burglars.
Amit: There is a political elite and economically oppressive class in
India. And Rajiv Gandhi was born into this class. We need to put things
in perspective here. Will all gathered here recount how they got to
Oxford in the first place? Did you make it on merit or your ability to
utilize your connections? Come on, self-confessions are in order!
Rajiv: (renouncing all humility) For me, it was merit certainly. I made it
on my own steam. I am here because I graduated from one of the
topmost colleges of India. Three generations of my family were
educated in the best schools and colleges of the country. My father
was called to the Bar in England, later returning to India for legal
practice. He first became a High Court judge and was subsequently
elevated to the Supreme Court, retiring finally as the Chief Justice.
Amit: So you think that you got to college on the basis of merit? Prior
to that, are you sure that your admission to the prestigious-school-in-
the-hills was on merit? Do you really think that any school or college in
India could afford to turn down admission to the son of a judge of the
Supreme Court? Here, I must say that the existence of your particular
schoolor others in the same leaguedoes not reflect merit. These
came into existence because of the arbitrary action of the-then ruling
elite, which never failed to act in an unbearably autocratic manner. So
such schools were provided with everything absolutely free, including
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as much land as they wanted, at the expense of poor Indians. And such
largesse made for class consciousness. Everything, including
education, has been commodified. From the very beginning, students
in these schools are made to feel that they belong to a different,
superior classthat of the rulersbecause of their birth in a privileged
family.
(Short pause, dejected sigh) Unfortunately, most of the top Communist
leaders have only studied in these schools and colleges. They hail from
the same aristocratic background. For them, being Marxist is
fashionable. It distinguishes them from others and makes for a class of
its own. Their posturing has got absolutely nothing to do with a
classless society. Even 33 years after independence, the majority of
Indians cannot even think of getting their children admitted to these
schools. By the way, the annual intake of the school you are talking
about is just 80. Are you trying to tell me that only 80 children in the
whole of India are meritorious?
John: But all the good schools, including Doon, also admit a few
children from the less privileged sections of society.
Professor Shackle: How many?
John:Two every year.
Professor Shackle: But this is just a minuscule percentage of the
vast legions of the underprivileged in India!
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Sunitha: Excuse me Professor, but you will not understand Indian
sociology. It is too convoluted for a foreigner. By the way, how many
children from the less-privileged sections of society does Harrow
admit? Dont forget that class and identity consciousness and ills such
as nationalism which is now the synonym of Hindu communalism are
the gift of the British to India.
Professor Shackle: I am surprised that despite your Cambridge
training, you have become an expert at oversimplifying complicated
social realities. May I say at the risk of being termed racist that elite
Indians are masters of double standards?
Sunitha: This is not done, Professor! You are, I am sorry to say,
reducing complex sociological facts to simple mathematical equations.
Risking humility, may I remind you that sociology itself is dictated by
politics, which in a democracy is a game of numbers all about
mathematics? Some facts may appear simple but, any simplistic
analysis will make for confusion.
John: Sorry Professor, but I agree with Sunitha and think you are
terribly mistaken. I respect your interest in Indias democracy from the
point of view of a Professor of modern Indian history, but you outsiders
are incapable of understanding the intricacies of our system. You tend
to lose your way in superficialities.
Alice: Amethi, unlike the rest of India, was nurtured by the Gandhi
family. Anybody from the Nehru family can win an election from there.
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Professor Shackle: Amamati what is that?
Amit: That is the name of the constituency of Rajiv Gandhi.
(Addressing the others) Dont you think the presence of only
Stephanians and the alumni of Presidency College in this room reek of
elitism? Just give it a thought, 690 million Indians and out of that, just
five to six, hailing from St Stephens or Presidency, are sitting here
discussing Rajiv Gandhi. Am I the only one here who finds this
incongruous?
(A short silence follows as everyone tries to think of a suitable retort)
Sunitha (Clearly unable to think of one): Where has the present
system got us in 30 years?
Amit: Where should we have been?
(Everyone looks at Amit in disbelief that he actually has any doubts
about the fact that the country should have been anywhere but where
it is. The purposeless alternative syndrome being difficult to question,
Amit chooses to remain silent, despite the disbelieving looks).
John: (as the discussion seems to have got derailed and is on the
point of fizzling out): I cannot understand how Ms Indira Gandhi
chooses to surround herself with mediocre people, particularly after
returning to power. She has, shockingly, developed a great appetite for
sycophancy. Most of the people around her are jokers-cum-brokers.
They can convince her about the fitness of any immoral scheme.
Amit: How can you say this?
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Bobby: Havent you heard the latest? Her chamchas have convinced
her that Dom Moraes is a part of a gang of renegades that includes
Nayantara Sehgal and Gayatri Devi. So she has not bothered to go
through Doms text, a labour of love by Leela and Dom and the
biography was abandoned by Ms Gandhi even without reading it. Poor
Leela is still trying to figure out where things went wrong.
All: Shame!... Shame!... Shame!
Amit: Are you blaming Ms Gandhi or her chamchas? By the way, what
she did to Shakuntala Masani, an over-ambitious lady with an
aristocratic family background and married to the same class, but
below average and exceptionally mean, cannot be condemned. She
was not fit to be a corporator but, being an off spring of the chamchas
of the English, she spoiled her family and had been fighting for her
overrated ambitions, hoping Ms Gandhi would be instrumental in
fulfilling them, which I am glad she did not do. I am pretty sure the
future generations of Shakuntala Masani will develop good fiction for
every possible benefit. Not a bad proposition!
Aftab: Doms plight is undoubtedly the handiwork of a particular
chamcha who is the scum of the earth. Dont you know that without
having the talent of a mobster you cannot survive in the Congress?
You are snubbed by those above you and, in turn, you snub those
unfortunate to be below you. The big fish swallowing the small. Nehru,
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though he was short tempered at times, never snubbed or insulted
people.
Amit (thinking): I dont know what you are talking about, friends.
Every sentence that you utter is either contradictory or has no
relevance to the larger picture of Indian democracy. I wonder why?
And I am sorry to say that in abusing one godforsaken chamcha, you
gentlemen are abandoning your sanity and being plain cynical.
Rajiv: I am sorry. You know how much I like Ms Gandhi. But I cannot
imagine her in the company of such charlatans.
Bobby (in anger): Because of these chamchas, the Congress party is
now left with no ideological base. The Gandhi household has become a
favourite topic for the gossip columns and cocktail parties of shallow
socialites. Even in the CPI, the votaries of Nehru stand marginalized,
with only those darned chamchas of Ms Gandhi on top.
Amit: Do you think Mohit Sen is a chamcha?
Rajiv: Of course not. As far as he is concerned, he cannot even be his
wifes chamcha. Dont you know that he has been completely
marginalized in the Communist Party on the accusation of being a
chamcha of Ms Gandhi? Mohit Da is, perhaps, the only soul who has as
much affection for Ms Gandhi as Nehru had for him.
Aftab: And because of Ms Gandhis chamchas in the CPI, it is losing
both its ideology and mass base and collapsing like a house of cards.
Amit: Who exactly is your concern? Ms Gandhi or Rajiv?
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John: Both. The unfortunate part is that the shrewd chamchas of Rajiv
Gandhi, who style themselves as his friends, will mar Indian foreign
policy. To Ms Gandhis credit, she never got trapped by capitalism and
kept both the industrialists and America at bay, keeping socialism
alive. But Rajiv Gandhis cronies, like those who were responsible for
the fall of Sanjay Gandhi and gave a bad name to both Sanjay and Ms
Gandhi, will sell the country to capitalism. Their attempts to convince
her to play another dynastic trump card are nothing but a capitalist
conspiracy.
Amit: Even if one were to believe you, what could be the possible
reasons for the people of India reverting to Ms Gandhi? Does it indicate
a preference or trend for democracy in the days to come?
John: What do you think lies ahead in the wake of Maruti Ltd?
Amit: (tired of the discussion) Biscuits, anyone?
John (taking umbrage): A big conspiracy is afoot to take over the
Indias can making market by foreign manufacturers. The forces of
production will end up on the losing side. What does Sanjay think this
will lead to? Some kind of an automobile revolution for the emerging
middle class? Or further and more systemic subjection of the workers?
Where will the land for these factories come from? Will it not be a
death sentence for our farmers? Two hoots they care for the serfs, the
labourers, the ones on the shop floor.
Amit: Is Jyoti Basu a capitalist ploy?
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Bobby: In a capitalist dispensation no individual is safe. If not Jyoti
Basu, his sonor if he does not have a sonhis nephew or a son-in-
law, will work as an agent of capitalism. The magpies are not hard to
spot in each of these communes. They are all out to feather their own
nests.
Aftab: I have no knowledge of Jyoti Basus family, but I can assure you
that in the Indian system, even Marx would have betrayed the working
class for his own selfish reasons. No one can be immune to it. No one
can resist corruption in our beloved country. Money is a whore that
seduces you to the deathbed of your morality.
Amit: I must confess gentlemen that I am stumped with the level of
this discussion. Do you have any idea what you want from life?
(The sherry having been consumed by now, some of the people drift
off, but the hardcore Marxists hold forth)
Rajiv (putting his arm around Amit): Who does? But Im glad that at
least you have the guts to say what you believe in. But let me assure
you, this is only possible in an Oxford room. If you plan to enter the
den that is Congress politics, you must first bid goodbye to your free
thinking.
Amit(sotto voce): And do you believe you will remain a communist if
Rajiv Gandhi is swayed by capitalism, bidding goodbye to Nehruvian
socialism?
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Rajiv: We wish Rajiv Gandhi remains a custodian of Nehruvian
socialism!
Amit: And if that happens, what will you do?
Rajiv: In that case, I shall be very happy to work as his unpaid
secretary, as is the Congress tradition, and will convince him to set up
a grand memorial to M.N. Roy in Dehradun, where today no sign is left
of the great visionary. Even locals dont know where Roy lived.
Amit: So can I be audacious enough to presume that you, my brother,
mean and wish Rajiv Gandhi well?
Rajiv and others (sotto voce again): Of course yes. Why not? We wish
his family well too. If he upholds the Nehruvian tradition, he could be
the natural leader India needs.
Aftab: After all, Rajiv Gandhi is a Cambridge man and even comes
close to challenging his class aspirations naturally. What he is in dire
need of is good advicestarting from reading Nehrus writings and not
giving ear to opportunistic academics.
Sunitha:There is no hope, comrades. We may debate it ad nauseum,
but in a society governed by the bourgeoisie, where large-scale
commodification and baseless reification is an accepted norm,
promoting commodity fetishism, leaving the modes of production
confined to the capitalists, there can be no permanent revolution
because the strong footed pig called capitalism can overpower even
the most powerful of revolutionary waves. There can be no class
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antagonisms because systematic deprivation will kill the voice of the
proletariat. The agglomerated population of the bourgeoisie with their
brand of reactionary socialism will barbarically clip the wings of this
once golden bird. Under the tyranny of Rajiv Gandhi and his chamchas,
hypostatization will render our dialectical materialism, our revolution,
lost forever, condemning it as an unfinished story.
Amit: What in the world is the matter with you? Why these highfalutin
phrases? Do they signify anything?
Sunitha: They say its better to keep your mouth shut and appear
stupid than to open it and remove all doubts.
Amit: (Giving her a long look) Thought as much!
Alice: Why do you waste your time on these jackasses? I mean the
cronies of Rajiv, assuming for a second that he will succumb to their
designs?
Rajiv: What if he does?
Alice: Then Rajiv himself will be a celebrated loser and India a far
bigger one. But, more importantly, I will be heading for the pub. If we
dont leave now, it will soon be closing time and there is no malady
that a good bitter cant cure.
All stand up.
(The Amitabh song comes back, lights fade out as the group leaves the
room. Let this play for a while to enable preparation for the next
scene.)
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Scene 4
STAGE SETTING
Return to the sumptuous sitting room at Amits house in the present
time. Sounds of slogan-shouting from outside, against the PM. Only
Laddan is seen holding tea-tray, pacing up and down. He goes to the
window to listen shakes his head.
Amit enters quoting a couplet: Ik baazeecha-e-atfaal hai duniya
mere aage
Hota hai shab-o-roz tamaasha mere aage
For me, the world is nothing but childs-play
Every day for me is but a circus
(Professor and Alice return to the room. The slogans die out).
Professor: Amit, do you think the road you have chosen is the correct
one? Could it have been different, could it have been better?
Alice: Professor, whatever road it was, it was the one takento be
philosophical about it now is irrelevant.
Amit: No Alice, we have to constantly learn, from our mistakes and
achievementsthat is why I love historynot for nostalgia alone, but
for we can learn from it.
Professor: I think you both are right, we must constantly learn, and
also constantly experience through our actions thought and action
combined is the way forward.
Alice: Sir, you sound like a Hindu philosopher.
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Professor: Maybe I am, maybe I am
(There is a moment of silence, all three are still but Laddan breaks the
reverie and interrupts their contemplation),
Laddan: Mr Professor Sir, the High tea is becoming cool, lets proceed
to the dining room. (They all leave as Amit, following the etiquette of a
good host, gestures that he will follow his guests. But, he lingers by
the antique table and picks up the gift that the Professor brought him.
He examines the roughly-wrapped-brown-package and tears open the
wrapper in childlike anticipation with a grin.
When he realises that it is one of the kitschy bobbing plastic flowers,
Made in China, which the street children sell on the intersection near
his house, his face clouds over and he loses his smile as the lights fade
out).
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