ELECTIONS '98
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The more things change...

While in college so many summers ago, the year round the corner seemed like just another year, till our head of department pulled out a book title from his memory and recommended that we all read it. 1984, thus, became an instant hit with most of us, despite the HoD painting a grim image of an Orwellian future that awaited all of us. Of course, being young and romantic, goaded by visions of an uncertain, yet exciting, future, none of us really paid much heed to his stygian portrayals of the oppressed becoming oppressors.

There is only so much that romanticism and other such feelings can last before being smashed on the rocks of reality. For me, personally, it has taken quite a long time for the rose-tint to fall of my spectacles. And considering that my chosen profession since exiting from college involves watching the shenanigans of the political crowd from a position of proximity, from the sidelines, it is quite remarkable that the scales did not fall off my eyes sooner.

But the last couple of weeks have served to hasten the process of reality sinking in, for in this time I was caught in situations that vex the common, vote-casting public. The first was the Maharashtra government's decision to replace the existing ration cards with income-based ration cards that will be distinguished on the basis of their colour.

Like most of the middle class, my family too had long ceased to buy provisions through the Public Distribution System, so the ration card had lapsed some years earlier, a fact that was discovered only when we visited the shop to have our card changed. One of the ironies of the situation is that even though one does not buy ration stuff, the card is still considered a valid proof of residence, since it is used for purposes ranging from getting a passport to getting one's driver's licence. The shopkeeper told us that since we were not on his list of valid ration consumers, we need to approach the ration inspector, and go through the whole process of getting a new ration number, which will then be considered for issuing a new ration card.

There are two Indias out here. One is the land of scarcity, quotas, rations, rules and regulations, proscriptions, prohibition, permits, etc. And the other is the land of plenty, where doors are never shut, requests are never rejected, shortages are non-existent... To the former belong the voting public, to the latter belong the elite, the privileged, the connected. In the golden era of journalism, its practitioners took immense pride in belonging to the former category, today we are part of the establishment that we once sneered at. As a tribe we have been compromised, we have compromised, we have sold out, for whatever reason.

So, it was a simple matter of making a telephone call, send in a visiting card, and get it over and done with it. After all, that was how I managed to get my ration card done in the first place, many years ago. This time, however, I had decided to go through the normal course and find out just how people friendly the Shiv Sena-Bharatiya Janata Party administration really was.

At the end of a day's work, at the local ration office, I was dismissed as a no-hoper, someone whose case cannot be helped in any manner. Finally, the deputy to the ration officer declared my case over, since it was my fault that I was not buying stuff from the ration shop. If I had, I would have known that my card had expired, or was about to expire, the last time they did a check some five years ago, when new numbers were handed out to everybody. So I could forget getting a new ration card, and have to live without it.

Perhaps it was a pitch for financial indulgence, but after two futile days away from work meeting with ration office personnel, I decided it was now time to use what little clout being a journalist brought. And the transformation was magical. I received my new ration number in a day's time, without going through the hassles of checking out my residence etc, even as others with a similar, maybe simpler, problem were being given the standard line.

This experience proved to me that this government was inept when it comes to executing even intrinsically meritorious decisions. Like the PDS reorganisation. It makes eminent sense to distribute provisions only to those who cannot buy the same from the market, and the whole thing could have been executed with finesse and concern for the common man who has no political godfather, has to be absent from his place of work to stand in immobile queues, and get around to greasing palms even for the most mundane of things.

It is easy to take decisions, what is difficult is to implement them without giving pain and suffering to those who are affected by them. And that, to me, is the real test of an administration's efficacy, and by this I will readily say that the Maharashtra government is a failure.

What confirmed this in my mind was the next experience. This was after the state government decided to conduct a special drive to collect vehicle tax from car owners, which by itself is a laudable exercise for a cash-strapped administration. Again, the manner in which it was conducted gives rise to the thought that more than anything, the real purpose behind the exercise was harassment of the public. Taking that part of the MV Rules that empowered seizure of vehicles for non-payment of vehicle tax, police checkposts all over stopped cars, evicted the passengers and released the cars only after the tax had been paid. While the better thing to do would be to set up a collection centre right next to the checkpost, and let the passengers go.

I was a victim of this harassment exercise, and could have easily got off waving my ID, like so many others from the privilegentsia were doing. But some perverse streak made me go through the entire process of reclaiming my car after bashing my head against obdurate RTO officials, and I came away convinced that being in power and being able to rule are two different things.

In this connection, I found former journalist Pritish Nandy's fulminations against his party's chief minister, Manohar Joshi, interesting. Nandy blamed Joshi for all the ills afflicting the alliance government in the state, and squarely accused the latter of hindering Bal Thackeray's people-oriented schemes. This may ensure for Nandy another stint in the Rajya Sabha, or even get him a Lok Sabha nomination whenever elections are held, but it is sheer bunkum.

Thackeray, and the rest of the ruling elite, whichever party they belong to, have long since lost their touch with reality. But that in itself is not the tragedy. The bigger weep is that those who are meant to serve as the link between the government and the people - the opposition, legislators, corporators, Fourth Estate and party cadre - have forfeited their responsibility. Perhaps once they were spurred by thoughts of self-service, today it is self-aggrandisement alone that propels them, the people can look after themselves.

Losing touch with reality spells end of the road, for both the politician and journalist. Maybe that's why the distinction between the two has been blurred.

Saisuresh Sivaswamy