The spirit of service

I OFTEN feel that the last cruel joke the departing British played on us was granting us our independence in August, surely one of the cruellest months in this part of the world. And this year, thanks to the phenomenon called adhikmas (extra month) by our astrologers, the sultry, humid weather seems unending. Add to it this year’s monsoon that has devastated large parts of north India, bringing floods and landslides every other day. The latest I see are parts of Punjab taking a hit, after Himachal and Uttarakhand have been battered relentlessly. Since I’ve already written about the human errors that have compounded the fury of nature and several experts have pointed this out already, there is little point in repeating those lessons that we never learn. However, these natural disasters can no longer be ignored. Wildfires raging across other parts of the developed world have not spared even those countries where the monsoon is not responsible for human and economic loss.

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Independence Day celebrations are regarded as official torture by those who are compelled to attend them, sitting in the heat in front of the Red Fort ramparts and later, attending the President’s At Home, in formal dress. The military top brass is the most pitiable lot in their starched uniforms and headgear. The others, in their formal bandgalas or suits with a mandatory necktie, are no better. Someone will have to think about this yearly punishment and perhaps have just flag-hoisting in the morning and the celebration at another time. I know this will never be acceptable but it’s my concern for the audience who cannot sit at home to watch it on their TVs that makes me suggest this. After all, the late Queen Elizabeth had two birthday celebrations: a private one at home and another one later when the weather was right for a parade and garden party.

Despite one’s unwillingness to step out in this weather, some notable exceptions have to be made. Memorials, book events, landmark birthdays and anniversaries. This fortnight has had them all. Two of these book events were unmissable: one was my sister Mrinal’s delightful book ‘Sahela Re’, written in Hindi and now translated into English. The discussion was one of the best I’ve heard in a long time but the highlight of the evening was an animated reading by the famed dastangoi artistes, Mahmood Farooqui and Darain Shahidi. Mahmood and Darain have revived this medieval genre to bring the magic of Urdu storytelling to modern audiences. They play to packed houses whenever they present a new dastan and have now inspired others, such as Sunil Mehra, to do their magic. If you ever get a chance to attend a performance, don’t let it slip away. Persian literature is full of tales that were narrated by accomplished professional storytellers to those who could not read the classics. It is said that ‘Arabian Nights’, that fascinating cycle of stories and adventures, is a compilation of such stories. Akbar, a dyslexic who could not read, was lulled to sleep by a dastango each night, I gather. The art of animated narration has never lost its magic and whether a fractious, cranky child or an insomniac adult, a bedtime story soothes all restless people who find it difficult to relax.

The other book event was a panel discussion on Rajan Kashyap’s memoir ‘Beyond the Trappings of Power’, which had an impressive panel of speakers: NN Vohra, Tejendra Khanna, Wajahat Habibullah and the author. It was delightful to run into several old friends and remember the days we spent together in Punjab and Chandigarh. I have yet to read the book but it is an addition to the many memoirs by Punjab-cadre friends and refreshes one’s memories of those decades when Punjab was at the height of its glory, and then the later decades that were to see the worst days of terrorism and separatism. I am no longer in touch with the state and its present circumstances apart from what I gather from articles and books, so I cannot speak of what it is like now. What I hear and learn is disturbing, to say the least, and the kind of politicians that are now in charge speak a language that I can no longer decipher. How much is truth and how much hype to build an individual leader is difficult to discern. This is as true of my own home state and the government in Delhi, so I cannot say that Punjab is worse than the others. However, when I look back at the deep attachment that we still have for the state and its people, the earlier generation of civil servants and politicians must have done something good.

This was brought out by all the panelists, each of whom rose to the highest echelons of power. From the aftermath of Partition, to the division of Punjab into three states and the creation of a new city, to the dark days of separatism and its handling — all these were vividly remembered and analysed. It is when you hear dedicated civil servants who entered the service not to wield power but to do good and serve the people that you realise how far away we have drifted from the idealism of that time. It is my fervent prayer that that spirit of service remains inviolate.