The impatience displayed in defying the lockdown is an ominous pointer.
The unruly scenes outside liquor shops across the country when lockdown was relaxed and the general attitude of the middle class towards the crisis created by the Covid pandemic raise serious questions on the preparedness of India as a nation to stand up against the peril.
The government, the health workers, the armed forces, the police, railway-men, airlines staff and postal employees and a host of other agencies of State have rendered yeoman service, due to which India has not gone the way of the US, the UK, Germany, Brazil, France, Italy and many advanced economies.
But the impatience displayed in defying the lockdown; the misbehaviour of a section of populace with health workers and citizens’ lack of empathy towards the plight of the poor, many of whom are stranded away from home and hearth, with no means of sustenance, are ominous pointers.
In 1972, the Jawaharlal Nehru University held its first convocation. Noted film personality Balraj Sahni was the chief guest. In his address, Sahni narrated an incident from his college days in British India, which portrayed Indian attitude to crisis and its aftermath: “I was going by bus from Rawalpindi to Kashmir with my family to enjoy the summer vacation. Halfway through we were halted because a big chunk of the road had been swept away by a landslide caused by rain the previous night. We joined the long queues of buses and cars on either side of the landside. Impatiently we waited for the road to clear. It was a difficult job for the P.W.D. and it took some days before they could cut a passage through. During all this time the passengers and the drivers of vehicles made a difficult situation even more difficult by their impatience and constant demonstration. Even the villagers nearby got fed up with the high-handed behaviour of the citywallahs. One morning the overseer declared the road open. The green- flag was waved to the drivers. But we saw a strange sight. No driver was willing to be the first to cross. They just stood and stared at each other from either side. No doubt the road was a make-shift one and even dangerous. A mountain on one side, and a deep gorge and the river below. Both were forbidding. The overseer had made a careful inspection and had opened the road with a full sense of responsibility. But nobody was prepared to trust his judgment, although these very people had, till yesterday, accused him and his department of laziness and incompetence.
“Half an hour passed by in dumb silence. Nobody moved. Suddenly we saw a small green sports car approaching. An Englishman was driving it; sitting all by himself. He was a bit surprised to see so many parked vehicles and the crowd there. I was rather conspicuous, wearing my smart jacket and trousers. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked me.
“I told him the whole story. He laughed loudly, blew the horn and went straight ahead, crossing the dangerous portion without the least hesitation. And now the pendulum swung the other way. Everybody was so eager to cross that they got into each other’s way and created a new-confusion for some time. The noise of hundreds of engines and hundreds of horns was unbearable.”
The generation this writer belongs to has lived through the ignominy of 1962 China war in the twilight years of the Nehru era; the 1965 failure of Pakistan’s “Operation Gibraltar” and “Operation Grand Slam” under the inspiring leadership of Lal Bahadur Shastri; and the triumph of 1971 led by Indira Gandhi, who became the first Indian to win a war since the defeat of Porus in the hands of Alexander in 326 BC. No one celebrated Diwali in 1962. Not a single lamp was lit, no firecrackers were used anywhere in the country. In 1965, India had shortage of food grains. Shastri appealed for diversion of food for the soldiers who were defending India’s democracy against Pakistan military regime’s onslaught. People gave up eating cereals on alternate days. “Cereal-less meals” became the fashion. In 1971 a cess of five paise was put on each transaction—from cinema tickets to rail tickets. People collected funds for relief for the refugees, who poured in from erstwhile East Pakistan. As in 1962 and 1965, women knitted warm clothing for soldiers. Silver jubilee of Indian independence was joyously celebrated in 1972 after the two-nation theory was dismantled and Bangladesh was born. The nation showed exemplary resilience and discipline in all three perils.
Our armed forces are exemplary and state machinery is strong. Is India’s civil society in a position to stand up to peril in 2020 the same way as it did in 1962, 1965 and 1971? f the lockdown is not observed in letter and spirit, the fight against Covid cannot be won. If rules are followed more in defiance than in observance, health workers are attacked and police have to supervise mundane activity like the sale of liquor, then serious questions arise about our preparedness for making 2022 the 75th year of Independence as glorious as the celebrations in 1972.
The government, the health workers, the armed forces, the police, railway-men, airlines staff and postal employees and a host of other agencies of State have rendered yeoman service, due to which India has not gone the way of the US, the UK, Germany, Brazil, France, Italy and many advanced economies.
But the impatience displayed in defying the lockdown; the misbehaviour of a section of populace with health workers and citizens’ lack of empathy towards the plight of the poor, many of whom are stranded away from home and hearth, with no means of sustenance, are ominous pointers.
In 1972, the Jawaharlal Nehru University held its first convocation. Noted film personality Balraj Sahni was the chief guest. In his address, Sahni narrated an incident from his college days in British India, which portrayed Indian attitude to crisis and its aftermath: “I was going by bus from Rawalpindi to Kashmir with my family to enjoy the summer vacation. Halfway through we were halted because a big chunk of the road had been swept away by a landslide caused by rain the previous night. We joined the long queues of buses and cars on either side of the landside. Impatiently we waited for the road to clear. It was a difficult job for the P.W.D. and it took some days before they could cut a passage through. During all this time the passengers and the drivers of vehicles made a difficult situation even more difficult by their impatience and constant demonstration. Even the villagers nearby got fed up with the high-handed behaviour of the citywallahs. One morning the overseer declared the road open. The green- flag was waved to the drivers. But we saw a strange sight. No driver was willing to be the first to cross. They just stood and stared at each other from either side. No doubt the road was a make-shift one and even dangerous. A mountain on one side, and a deep gorge and the river below. Both were forbidding. The overseer had made a careful inspection and had opened the road with a full sense of responsibility. But nobody was prepared to trust his judgment, although these very people had, till yesterday, accused him and his department of laziness and incompetence.
“Half an hour passed by in dumb silence. Nobody moved. Suddenly we saw a small green sports car approaching. An Englishman was driving it; sitting all by himself. He was a bit surprised to see so many parked vehicles and the crowd there. I was rather conspicuous, wearing my smart jacket and trousers. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked me.
“I told him the whole story. He laughed loudly, blew the horn and went straight ahead, crossing the dangerous portion without the least hesitation. And now the pendulum swung the other way. Everybody was so eager to cross that they got into each other’s way and created a new-confusion for some time. The noise of hundreds of engines and hundreds of horns was unbearable.”
The generation this writer belongs to has lived through the ignominy of 1962 China war in the twilight years of the Nehru era; the 1965 failure of Pakistan’s “Operation Gibraltar” and “Operation Grand Slam” under the inspiring leadership of Lal Bahadur Shastri; and the triumph of 1971 led by Indira Gandhi, who became the first Indian to win a war since the defeat of Porus in the hands of Alexander in 326 BC. No one celebrated Diwali in 1962. Not a single lamp was lit, no firecrackers were used anywhere in the country. In 1965, India had shortage of food grains. Shastri appealed for diversion of food for the soldiers who were defending India’s democracy against Pakistan military regime’s onslaught. People gave up eating cereals on alternate days. “Cereal-less meals” became the fashion. In 1971 a cess of five paise was put on each transaction—from cinema tickets to rail tickets. People collected funds for relief for the refugees, who poured in from erstwhile East Pakistan. As in 1962 and 1965, women knitted warm clothing for soldiers. Silver jubilee of Indian independence was joyously celebrated in 1972 after the two-nation theory was dismantled and Bangladesh was born. The nation showed exemplary resilience and discipline in all three perils.
Our armed forces are exemplary and state machinery is strong. Is India’s civil society in a position to stand up to peril in 2020 the same way as it did in 1962, 1965 and 1971? f the lockdown is not observed in letter and spirit, the fight against Covid cannot be won. If rules are followed more in defiance than in observance, health workers are attacked and police have to supervise mundane activity like the sale of liquor, then serious questions arise about our preparedness for making 2022 the 75th year of Independence as glorious as the celebrations in 1972.
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