Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Witness Account : The Revolution of a Common Man

I am not an armchair fascist, neither an overground maoist nor a closet anarchist. I am a common man. Seeking what he has not got in sixty years of search for freedom. The search for freedom from corruption. A fight to release from the clutches of a corrupt system. A fight where he has had to hang up his gloves so many times. So many times that he has been booted out of the plans for a nation led by governments that only appease its vote banks. Living in the nation of slum-dog millionaires, the nation where you make the news if you are at the extremes. Anywhere in between, you are a nowhere man. A nowhere man, a common man. So common that no government thinks you are special. So common that every government takes you for granted. So common that you start believing it yourself. So common that finally, someone wants to stand up and change all that. Change a corrupt system that is so rotten that the stench is unbearable. The time of a social awakening, the rise of a social consciousness, the revolution of a common man.

The last couple of weeks, I have witnessed history being made. I have seen the unfolding of a movement of the common man. A movement by the people, of the people and for the people. It is a revolution of people that you and me know. I have never before seen a revolution unfold in my social space. One of my professional mentors posted on Facebook that he had courted arrest with the movement. Another friend posted back that he was on the way to court arrest. I hear conversation in every street corner about the fight against corruption. On my way to office, I see scenes of peaceful protest in support of the movement. Protests by people like you and me so close to the sterilized office complexes of the modern nation. As I return home, I see my neighbors hold a peaceful candlelight march around our locality. I have never before seen the angst of the common man spill over in such a show of solidarity. I have never before seen a movement of an awakened people up close as I see it now. I have never seen it this real, the revolution of the common man.

I have not seen the failed revolutions of the past to stop believing. I have heard enough about the success of the big people movements to start hoping. Public opinion is building on the social network sites. Public angst is overflowing on the streets. It is a click and mortar revolution in a new age. I live in a new age, in new times when things they are a changin'. Old world protest marches and new age social networking, hand in hand to change a corrupt system, bit by bit. I hear strains of Dylan singing.....

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.



I am not an armchair fascist, or maybe I am...who cares. But, I am a witness to the revolution of a common man. And this is my witness account.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

A tourist in your own land

Despite being told never to judge a book by its cover, I was drawn to the book by what the cover said, " In Search of the Sacred in Modern India". I was not disappointed. William Dalrymple offers an interesting book about nine lives of faith. But, before I turn this into a book review, let me get to the point. One of the stories in the book is about a Theyyam artiste from North Malabar. Theyyam is a dance form where the artiste enters a trance and in a sense, the Gods inhabit his body. Reading that piece, I was transported back to a land and time of magic. Reading that piece, fond memories of a forgotten yesterday flitted past my eyes. You are so disconnected now with the yesterday that you feel like a tourist in your own land.

The world has changed drastically in the last few years. Our aspirations and accomplishments have taken us on a journey in time and space. We have moved quite a distance away from the stories of our childhood. We have been busy building our own new realities. We have been busy painting that picture perfect life. We have a list of places to visit and another of things to do. We have embraced progress, we have progressed beyond the limiting beliefs of yesterday, beyond the superstitions of yesterday. And then you read a story like the one about the Theyyam dancer and you realize that your have left behind more than just your superstitions. You have left behind your imagination, you have left behind your wide eyed wonder, you have left behind your belief in magic. And as you journey back to that magically superstitious, yet real world of yesterday, you feel like a tourist in your own land.

I am reminded of the time when we trembled in front of the Velichappadu, the oracle and soothsayer possessed by the spirits. I am reminded of the Puram, the big temple festivals where the elephants are dressed  in their gold head-plates and the Gods are swaying on top of them. I am reminded of the pomp and grandeur  as colorful umbrellas are choreographed in synchronous motion atop the elephants. I am reminded of the big tree where Yakshis, the evil spirits are nailed to after they are exorcised in the temple. I am reminded of the family deity being called upon to name a child, about mysterious letters forming a name and appearing on a simple bowl of rice. I am reminded of the magic. Call it pagan, call it superstition, I am reminded of the unreal in a very real world that intrigued me, that charmed me, that scared me, that fascinated me. And then again, I realize that I have become a tourist in my own land. I have progressed so much that I stop believing in the magic. I see what my eyes show, I hear what my ears receive, I feel what my touch perceives. I am a prisoner of my senses. It might seem senseless to many, but beyond yonder, there is magic. And shaken out of the senseless, you notice you are a tourist in your own land.