All right, that is a shameless rip off from the latest opus of J. K. Rowling, also churned into a movie by Warner Bros. But isn’t this the joy of being a nobody on the Internet, that you can pilfer and filch from the mighty and live to tell the tale? I mean, like, the blogger who lived?
But similarities of context end there. Unlike the fantastic fantasy I have alluded to, here be pustules of perfidy. In other words, I wish to speak of the pestilence of politics that has been plaguing the earth in general and this nation in particular. Such is the terrible state of affairs that dare I be graphical in my arguments, I may sooner be the blogger who did not live.
Allow me to bare my heart before long: I am a supporter of the demonetisation missile fired away by Prime Minister Modi to curb the tar black wallets of the filthy and the corrupt, not to speak of shiploads of fake currency nourishing the terrorists. I am absolutely besotted with the act of disrobing all rupee notes of values higher than one hundred of all their honour. Oh, I understand I am an incorrigible imbecile. Perhaps that explains why the bombastic words of the intelligentsia swim through my ears without friction and vanish into the ether. I reckon that presents a contradiction to the famous theorem of Einstein but that is the stuff nincompoops are made of. As for the bit about danger to my life, when a prize has been set on the scalp of someone as potent as Modi, I am but a twitching caterpillar, worthlessness being my best defence.
But, hear, hear. The congress of crows that claims to be the forebear and progenitor of this state but has driven it to the brink of perdition instead, thanks to its talons of corruption wedged to the bones of the common man, is screeching shrill. Their crown prince is foaming at the mouth, swearing if people are allowed to wriggle free of their ill-gotten wealth they will fall to a gory death. One of the loudmouths wouldn’t even spare the honour of the soldiers fallen for the country to add weight to their arguments. I tend to agree. It is those, perchance like them, with the Albatross of stashed riches who will take a nosedive. Fortunately, the poor and the featherweight will drift away on the slightest wind.
Then there are the Measles and Mumps sisters who have broken into a whooping cough after the banning of high denomination notes. They have developed high fever, rash, goose bumps, runny nose, pinkeye and are displaying symptoms of acute distress and permanent damage to their coffers. Massive garlands of currency notes have turned into bogus wreaths. Entire clubs ranging from the footmen to the generals have turned paupers. Up there in Delhi, the man who rose from the ashes like a phoenix promising a corruption-free nation to the man on street but has whisked up a putrefying clique of vulgar bandits, and has since been sprinkling cinders on his electors as a mark of gratitude, has woken up like Dracula, as is his wont. Woe betide the day when he and his henchmen miss a chance to outrage the modesty of women and sink their fangs into every neck that happens to pass by. A bit down under but in a northern province still, there is the curious case of the clan whose chariots are propelled by mullahs and milkmen, whose errant scion with Pinocchio Syndrome is vying for a Nobel Prize in Economics by threatening to make black money mandatory. Such is the lot cawing in a reverberating chorus against the sudden move to ban the high value bills. As they say, birds of the same feather fornicate together.
And how does one stand up to the bilious beliefs of the columnists and panellists with bad cases of verbal incontinence and their delusions that the sole reason of their existence is to carpet bomb the hapless readers and listeners with their self-righteous discharge? Given a chance they would look the other way faced with a Hitler, a Laden or a Baghdadi and tell everyone the villains will vanish of their own accord if we continue ignoring them long enough, and the corrupt will mend their ways if we let them bleed the nation every which way they wish?
It turns out I haven’t answered the original question tossed casually at the outset. I would say the answer is easy enough, but is uneasy at the same time. There is no dearth of such beasts blaring at us through broadsheets, journals, and the more ubiquitous television, and the omnipresent social media. The uneasy answer, or perhaps it is a question, is that are we allowing them to beguile us, or worse, hypnotise us with their slick, insidious verbiage, and in the process, make us a part of them? Even at this moment, the country is tumbling, manifest in the crumbling railways, roadways, industries, housing, employment, legal system and economy, much of it due to the entrenched corruption. If the cancer has to stop, someone has to begin the chemotherapy forthwith, but how?