What does it mean to experience heightened moral loneliness at a time when the electoral success of the BJP- led NDA is celebrated all around, and television anchors, election experts and commentators remind us of Mr.Amit Shah’s winning strategy, Mr. Narendra Modi’s boundless energy, and the failure of the divided opposition to convince the masses of a feasible alternative?
I know that I am lonely; I know that when democracy becomes the game of numbers, there are not many takers of the kind of marginalized voice I represent; and I know that when the emergent mass culture standardizes our choices, and even trivializes the democratic act of critical thinking, it is not easy to be heard and understood. Yet, amid the euphoria of Mr. Modi’s success to which his admirers are adding colours, I feel sad. I am disheartened. I am lonely.
No, I do not belong to any ‘opposition’ party. At times, I see the absence of a truly alternative mode of thinking and the idea of India as a civilization (something that we see in the nuanced conversations between Gandhi and Tagore) in their deeds and manifestos. Instead, narrow caste/parochial interests limit the possibility of a grand idea.
But then, as an ordinary citizen or a dreamy teacher, I always loved the potential of our civilization–its ability to accommodate and live with plurality of beliefs, faiths and practices; I wanted to believe that we could never forget some key lessons from the historic freedom struggle-Gandhi’s satyagraha, Tagore’s poetic universalism, Bhagat Singh’s idealism, Maulana Azad’s syncretism, Ambedkar’s critique of the hierarchical caste system, and the futility of communal hatred as the partition trauma and associated psychology of violence (recall Manto’s heart-breaking narratives) taught us. And I wanted to believe that the elasticity of Hinduism and its spiritual depth would enrich us- culturally and ethically. I loved Nizamuddin Auliya; I loved Charles Andrews.
Furthermore, even after the fall of the Berlin wall and collapse of the Soviet Union, I continued to believe in the virtues of socialism-at least, the ethics of care, distributive justice and some sort of limits to the cult of a profit-making/instrumental/possessive individual. I loathed the aggression of social Darwinism implicit in the doctrine of neoliberal global capitalism.
Hence, I thought that we would no longer bear a political formation that negates all these pro-people/life-affirming ideals. I thought that somehow the wisdom would prevail, and we would say ‘no’ to the cult of narcissism, gross Hindutva, negative/violent nationalism, and an economy that keeps causing distress to innumerable ordinary Indians – farmers, Dalits, unemployed youth, lower middle class and workers in unorganized sectors.
Well, it is now clear that I was entirely wrong in my expectation. Instead, I see the celebration of something else – the ‘meditative’ Modi at Kedarnath proving that his hyper-masculine nationalism packaged trough ‘Hindu’ metaphor works, the likes of Pragya Singh Thakur making it clear that the nation doesn’t mind to kill Mahatma Gandhi time and again, and economic hardships do not matter to us so long us we can humiliate Pakistan, and teach some tough lessons to the ‘problematic’ Muslim community. I was wrong in believing that the fineness of Hinduism – its Upanishadic prayers, its brilliant seekers like Ramakrishna, Ramana Maharshi and Sri Aurobindo, and its decentred diversity–would give us the strength to resist the degeneration of our religion in the form of mob psychology of hatred, lynching and cow vigilantism.
Yes, as I switch off the television channels, I begin to walk – a lonely walk. And then, as I approach an old banyan tree, an inner voice begins to possess me.
Possibly, something has gone terribly wrong with our education, culture and socialization practices. Possibly, we have distanced ourselves from all that is sublime and deep. In the age of mass culture – further activated by television channels and toxic social media, we have begun to love everything that is gross and loud: nationalism is the assertion of militarism, religion is an act of gorgeous symbolism of an identity, politics is an exercise in the crude/instrumental business of winning the elections at any cost, and ‘branding’ is more important than the inner substance! So , to take an analogy, we lose the sense of music, and begin to think that Honey Singh is a great musician. Likewise, deep thinking, reflexive quest and soft words do not attract us anymore. We love melodrama, toxic vocabulary and aggression. We do not want to think; we love to be entertained.
For five years since 2014, the ‘ media industry’ has systemetically desensitized us. Our education has failed us. We have asked our children only to become ‘successful’; yes, they have become clever, but not wiser. Or, in the absence of critical thinking, the ‘spell of magic’ seems to have hypnotized them. And possibly, people like us–university professors, or public intellectuals–have never been able to communicate with people. We too have failed.
I know that I am lonely. Yet, I refuse to believe that the logic of numbers is the only criterion for deciding what is true and what is false. The fact that the ideology that Pragya Singh Thakur represents has become triumphant does not mean that the Gandhian moment at Noakhali has lost its meaning. The fact that militaristic nationalism is celebrated does not mean that the poetry of Tagore’s classic novel Gora was wrong. The fact that the victory of the BJP-led NDA has charmed the share market, and enhanced the business of Mr.Adani does not mean that poverty, unemployment and malnutrition have ceased to exist.
Even at this moment of moral loneliness, I would not give up. As I switch of the TV channels, I have begun to read Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj, Nehru’s The Discovery of India, Tagore’s Gitanjali, and Karl Marx’s Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844. As a teacher, I must communicate with my young friends…
