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Sati was legal. Ditto child marriage, triple talaq, caste discrimination, bonded labour, beating children and wives, polygamy, female foeticide, monarchy, barring daughters from inheriting ancestral property, loan sharking, dumping toxic waste into the river, cutting random trees, and many other things that would appall you today. Yes, they were all legal. As was the Rowlatt Act, the taking of Koh-i-Noor, the dethroning of Shah Alam, the transfer of power to Victoria. All legal. And I haven’t even mentioned non-Indian stuff yet.
Now, I don’t want to list all the things that were illegal. But at one time, even making your own fucking salt was illegal. Congregating unarmed at Jallianwala Bagh even after warnings was illegal. Printing leaflets critical of the government was illegal. Gathering at Azad Maidan in 1942 was illegal. Shouting Inquilab Zindabad was illegal. Travelling in “Europeans Only” compartments, or entering “Whites Only” hotels was illegal. You know what else was illegal? Raising the tricolour. Or demanding self-rule or independence (Swaraj in Sanskrit, or Azadi in Urdu, for those who don’t understand these words). Or refusing to go to war for your oppressor. Or joining the Azad Hind Fauj.
To those who keep telling me that regardless of the context, regardless of the fact that there are no curbs or limits to Arnab’s poisonous gibberish and propaganda, regardless of the abyss into which this society stares because of the divisive politics that is being played on the national stage, regardless of our own rights in a democracy, regardless of the historically documented and universally applied method of non-violent resistance, regardless of all that is good, holy, and sacred to a human, of that which is worth fighting for, worth dying for, regardless of all this, what is of paramount importance above everything is to follow the law and be nice, polite, and tolerant of intolerant people, because not being so would somehow break the unspoken rule of gentlemanly behaviour, which we are so proud of being, even as our pants have been taken down and we are being fucked in the ass as the world laughs at our cowardice and stupidity, I say, “You really don’t understand this, do you?”
I understand you are sitting in your cozy living rooms talking of legal niceties and tut-tutting over someone else standing up for what’s right, at huge personal cost. I understand you have the privilege and the luxury, as to be completely honest, do I, to sit and criticise the methods of someone who is risking their life, limb, livelihood, and reputation to fight on our behalf. You have the advantage of the lottery of birth, as I must admit do I, to insist that everything be done above board and in the spirit of the game, otherwise it’s just not cricket. I understand that you are all for fair play and being upright and all that, chaps, while someone else fights the dirty fight that needs to be fought. For you. For your children. For justice. For protecting the very society you live in and curse this person of vitiating. I understand you don’t want to get sweat under your arms, or be roughed up by the police, or spend an hour in the lockup, or risk being hit by a lathi, or be called in by your father or uncle and given an earful about how you are destroying the family name, or whatever, and that you’d rather someone else did it, but that they did it playing by your rules.
I also understand you do not condemn this person, whether a Shaheen Baghi or a Kunal Kamra. You are actually egging them on inside your mind. You secretly wish you could do it too. You just can’t, because it would go against your grain of being a good sportsman and a dignified loser, which you acknowledge you are and would ideally love to wallow in self-pity over a glass of something as you look longingly at those who are doing something about it and soothe yourself by telling your conscience that their methods are flawed. You’d surely have done in differently, right?
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What, you wonder, if you can’t do even this? Then, my friend, you need to shut up about others who are doing it and let them fight on your behalf. And on your children’s.
Like that inspirational poster you have in your office: Lead, follow, or get out of the way.
Howzzat for simplicity?
Well said, Kedar. This is being shared on Whatsapp a lot.
Really? I didn't know this. Thanks.
Really interesting take…