Lots to ponder about

Ira Pande

Two heart-breaking events recently have shaken me badly and I hope a reviving trip to my beloved Kumaon hills will heal me. The first was the passing away of the legendary art critic and teacher, Dr BN Goswamy, an inspirational guru many of us will miss deeply. BNG, as he was popularly called, set up the Department of Art History at Panjab University and breathed life into Chandigarh’s art scene when the city was just opening its wings. Despite his international reputation as an extraordinary art historian, he remained faithful to the city and spent almost all his life there.

The other big shock was the loss of the Indian cricket team in the final to Australia, after having won every qualifying match. Cricket fever had reached a hysterical pitch by the time of the final match at Ahmedabad, with airfares and hotel rates reaching stratospheric levels. Nevertheless, fans had gathered there from every part of the world. I find it difficult to believe that there are people who pay a fortune to watch a live match when the best angles are available in one’s home on a TV screen. Not just that, it was difficult to find any news other than that related to the World Cup on our news channels. The cricket match had become some kind of a test of one’s nationalism and India’s loss was mourned at the same level as the death of an important national figure would normally command.

When did the fun go out of a game to become something that has to be won at any cost? Once, cricket was called a gentleman’s game and people applauded every elegant stroke or a sharp delivery with appreciative claps, no matter that this often meant cheering the rival team. Today, the atmosphere turns distinctly ugly, especially when India and Pakistan play. Empty bottles and other garbage are flung at the other team and a thunderous silence greets each loss of a desi wicket. I am certain that it could be the same in Pakistan as well if cricket matches were played there. However, as we all know, Pakistan is no longer considered a safe country for international sports events. And our mutual political animosity has placed a ban on any such fixture. How shameful that we have allowed politics to seep into sports. In fact, even Pakistani visitors to this World Cup were not issued visas. David Beckham was there but many retired members of our erstwhile teams were missing. This just shows how fickle public adulation is.

That said, I also feel proud that our current team is a spectrum of players from every part of the country. Different faiths have not affected their team spirit, nor is there any special treatment meted out to those from elite backgrounds. My heart swells with pride when I see the son of a security guard, an auto-rickshaw driver, a humble farmer or a widowed single mother present a united front. I hope that merit will always find a place in selection, for we have seen what nepotism has done in politics. Our cricket team has now acquired the same status that football stars have in the UK and their partners and girlfriends are talked about endlessly in gossip columns and social media.

There is another kind of drama unfolding in our Uttarakhand where a tunnel being constructed between Gangotri and Yamunotri collapsed, trapping 41 workers underneath. Why we are bent upon destroying these fragile hills with mindless construction and when will we ever learn from the succession of natural and man-made disasters in Uttarakhand is difficult to predict. So determined are we to link religion with commerce that we have become blind to the ecological consequences of constructing tunnels and four-lane highways to pilgrim spots. The satisfaction of performing a pilgrimage on foot had its own merit but in today’s busy world, few have the time to keep aside that amount of time. Buses, cars and even helicopters are now the preferred mode of travel and the greedy investors in this commercial circus are the stakeholders along with greedy state governments. Cute little homestays, dhabas and teashops mushroom happily to provide the pilgrims with food and shelter. Then come the disasters that will surely follow dangerous construction practices and the earth literally heaves in anger. Look at the number of times when hill states have paid with human lives (sacrifices perhaps?) to appease the anger of the gods.

After a long time spent inside to protect ourselves from the pollution of the last month or so, I am really impatient to go to the hills so that I can see blue skies, green trees and the glory of the snow views that are dramatic at this time of the year. A snug fireside after an invigorating walk, a cup of masala chai and a good book. I am almost swooning at the prospect of what awaits me.

To all my readers who are not so lucky, I send my deepest sympathy. Take a break, head out and walk to fill your lungs with pure oxygen. Go on, do it as soon as you read this.

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