When the faithful abandoned the survival instinct

Chander Suta Dogra
Senior Journalist, Author

The Dasehra evening in Punjab brought with it death and sorrow. The news spread across the nation just as countless 'Ravan Dahan' ceremonies finished with the task of putting evil to bed. "Some 60 people have died as a train mowed them down in Amritsar. Mowed down a crowd? How can that happen?" I overheard the cobbler ask the customer who gave him the news, the next morning. The disbelief at the thought that hundreds of people milling around the railway tracks didn't see or sense the approaching disaster is as palpable as the horror of the disaster. The basic instinct for survival which is paramount in humans was somewhat blunted that evening, and the fault is not of the grieving crowds. 

Two issues failed the people on Dasehra in Amritsar this year. 

In recent times, more so since the overt demonstration of Hindutva invading our public places, the politics around religious occasions has wrought a seminal change in their practice. 

Even when the organisers of the Dasehra ceremony in Amritsar commented from the stage — somewhat appreciatively — that there are so many people standing near the railway tracks, the people just smiled. Some may have even felt a trifle pleased to be singled out as such, but there was no sign of worry in the air. Not even a shuffle of unease when the compere on the stage mentioned in passing that a train could come by. They were, after all, present at a religious function, attended by the wife of a top minister and herself a well-known politician. Secure in the knowledge that no harm could befall on them. People who lived in the area knew that the two trains usually passed around that time. And, they would ordinarily have been careful to avoid the tracks. But the religiosity of the occasion contributed to a numbing of the healthy survival instincts. 

This, because there is a pervasive sentiment, of late, that a Hindu religious occasion being celebrated in a public place takes place within the protective embrace of the state. Where for a fleeting interval of time rules can be waived and the religious fervour so generated is a protective cloak around the event. 

Nowadays, if it is a Hindu festival, authorities smile indulgently at the Geeta paths held in public parks, the rowdy 'kawariyas' disrupting traffic or beating up passersby due to imagined insults, or the blocking of public roads by zealous organisers of noisy all-night 'jagratas'. 

Not so long ago, Muslim festivals were given a similar leeway by the Congress. That was when taaziya processions were allowed to block roads for hours or the practice of young Muslim boys racing motorbikes on shab-e-barat was acceptable. 

But all that was also before Rahul Gandhi began to wear the 'janeyu' and the Congress donned a soft shade of saffron. Now, Muslims are allotted plots even to do the namaaz in BJP-rules cities like Gurgaon. But this is not an argument about Hindus and Muslims. 

Two changes have happened to the practice of faith ever since politics moved from the fringes to the sanctum sanctorums of temples, mosques and gurdwaras. 

Firstly, an atmosphere of competitive religiosity has overtaken public places which have to bow before the God of the day and quietly endure the disorder and mess that follows. 

Secondly, the presence of a politician on the occasion ornaments it like nothing else. It may not be out of place to suggest that sometimes the local politico eclipses the God of the day but no one seems to mind because politicians have their uses. Such displays of religious might, however, have produced notions of privilege and latitude that would on normal days be visited with caution and restraint. Such as the thinking that perhaps the train will be diverted or stopped because a Dasehra festival is under way. 

It was the same thinking that led hundreds of supporters of Gurmeet Ram Rahim, convicted head of Dera Sacha Sauda, to run riot in Panchkula last year, leading to the death of more than 30 and injuring hundreds as the police opened fire on them. They also felt secure in the knowledge that their God, and the administration, in that order will protect them and no one will hurt them. All because they had seen politicians of different persuasions prostrating themselves before their guru. 

The people of Amritsar were also let down by their local administration which is duty-bound to ensure that all public events where large crowds are expected to congregate should pass off peacefully. If now fingers are being pointed at who gave the permission to hold the event, whether the permission was given by the municipality or some other government body, it all indicates a gross abdication of responsibility. 

No one seems to be responsible because it has become easy to get away by shrugging the shoulders and saying, 'it's not my job.' The deaths on Dasehra show that the culture of passing the buck has begun to extract its toll. Can the local administration in any self-respecting democracy take refuge behind the question, whether permission was granted or not? Is it not its duty to take note of any large gathering in its beat, and ensure that it passes off smoothly without being given instructions to do so? 

That this was the occasion of Dasehra, when everyone in town, including the local administration, knows that effigies will be burnt, and no one can hide behind the excuse that they had no information about the function. It is also hard to imagine that there is no standard operating procedure in place for such occasions. Because, if there was one, it was not visible that evening.

As for the organisers, plenty of brickbats are coming their way. Some for building a hype about their huge Ravan effigy and not catering to the expected huge crowd. For being obsessed with their VIP guest and not bothered about the well-being of the crowds. But the organisers themselves must be wondering what wrong they did this time, which they did not do in the previous years? This, again, because the culture of cocking a snook at rules and ignoring safety precautions is part and parcel of the grand celebrations of festivals nowadays. Unfortunately, this time, round, luck did not favour them as it did earlier and the consequences will haunt them forever. Is it too much then, to ask that lessons learnt should be implemented forthwith?