Left, Right and Centre
My earliest memories of electoral politics in India was sometime in the early nineties (cannot ascertain the exact year). This was at a time when the great city of Kolkata was still referred to as Calcutta, when hawkers still occupied the pavements of Gariahat and when Golpark was much larger than what it is today (in terms of broad circumference).
The Left
I was born and brought up in a prominent South Calcutta neighborhood- long considered to be a citadel for the then-ruling political alliance. The locality and the adjoining areas commanded significant relevance in the history of Indian politics. It was the parliamentary constituency of a maverick who in her 20s had defeated one of the most experienced Parliamentarians in the Country(she continues to be relevant today in the larger Indian political eco-systems). It was also the assembly constituency of a man from a different political ideology, who would later become the Chief Minister of the state (and ironically taste defeat almost two decades later). This dichotomy of having the Yin and the Yang co-exist is what distinguishes Calcutta from many developed cities in the world. It makes her breathe and live- it makes her feel human!
For me - a six (?) year old, blissfully unaware of these complexities, the prevailing political structures had organically become a part of my identity. The house we lived in was in a lane adjoining the local party office - and therefore a landmark for potential guests, representatives of the postal service, and providers of local forms of commute (read rickshaw-pullers). The party office was built on the western wing of a desolate two storied house with a very large terrace. The house had a shade of pink, deeply entrenched in my memory that I've never seen since. It also had on its eastern wing an image of a blue lotus (the electoral symbol of a polar opposite ideology) which stayed on the walls for many years. The artifacts representing the left and the right resided on two walls of the same building and yet life continued as usual.
The party office building, I was told, was home to a very bright left-leaning student who had lost his life in the 70s. The individual had tremendous promise and the sheer romanticism of unrealized potential became a part of local folklore. While the historical accuracy of the events concerning this remains unverified but the political significance of the building was not lost on us. Even when the building was reconstructed - the party was given a much smaller space in one of its newly constituted flats. The size of the new office two decades later also to a great extent reflected its political fortunes in years to come.
The local Counsellor (then) was a man who was potentially in his seventies. I have no memories of his physical appearance and that he was indeed seventy is a guesstimate. What remains vivid in my memory were images of these large walls painted with the gentleman's name during the prevailing municipal election. I had recently learnt to read and write in Bengali and I found the spelling of the name to be very fascinating. What added to my intrigue were stories of the Counsellor's generosity - my parents had visited him once for some local administrative matter and he (while munching on puffed rice) had offered all his support with humility.
I remember praying to God with all earnestness hoping that he win. I had no line of sight of political opponents, didnt understand what the counsellor did for a living, didnt know when the elections were- but I prayed, I prayed everyday. I was told one day that the 'nice old man' was re-elected - I didnt know what that meant but I was happy because our local Leader (I was told) was a good person. I have no memories of the counsellor post this and remember the gentleman losing his last election and then moving into oblivion like many local political Leaders before him. When I google his name today I dont find him or his achievements anywhere-that there is a wedding hall constructed in his memory is what the search pages tell me. I find this to be such a shame given the fact that our democracy is a function of contributions of so many un-named political representatives forever lost in the annals of history.
The Right
Fast forward a few years and I was in high school but not old enough to vote. Our local cable operator would send an elderly gentleman to collect our bills every month. We were going through a difficult patch financially and I could therefore empathize with what social realities could make a seventy year old go door-to-door collecting bills. The reason why I remember the individual explicitly is because one morning he landed up at our door and described to us behavioral attributes of a young acquaintance who had decided to contest the local municipal elections (ironically against the gentleman who I've described in the first paragraph).
I remember the campaign that followed which lead to the lotus triumphing over the hammer and the sickle. Our cable bill collector ironically was laid off a few months later because of old age much to his disappointment. I would run into him at times while returning from school but not maintain eye contact and cross the road to the other side. This was unnecessary because there was no expectation on my part to kickstart a dialogue and remains one of the only times when I've avoided a difficult conversation. I hope that our cable-bill collector received support from his acquaintance who later became a prominent political leader (and remains one today). I hope he found peace and financial support and overcame his disappointment. I hope he died believing that he was not a failure and had made a difference !
The Centre (?)
I was in my last year of college when two developments around me shook up the rest of the state. A young professional had been found dead in unnatural circumstances. It was alleged that he had married the daughter of a prominent industrialist against his wishes which lead to conspiracy theories. On the hand there were reports which suggested that this was a case of a man losing hope and finally succumbing to the practicalities of his situation. As a nineteen year old, the idea of love transcending social and economic boundaries was appealing and I remember signing the large banner displaying the deceased's face on my college walls. What happened to the case finally I have no idea. I know that the wife moved out of his house and was seen in social gatherings and events, I also know that the deceased's brother became a Member of the Legislative Assembly. As I look back I find this to be a rational outcome of life, when romanticism erodes and practicalities and need for survival kicks in. For example: I loved Howard Roark when I was sixteen but I see him as an eccentric and impractical person who took advantages of the modesties of the woman he loved now at thirty.
The second event which shaped me was possibly one of the biggest political movements in Bengal which ironically also depicted a dichotomy. A state which had for long been deprived of large scale investments had finally received interest from a prominent Corporate House. On the other hand the investment would potentially come at the cost of sacrificing one of the region's most fertile lands.
What happened in days to follow is interpreted differently depending on one's political ideology. One group saw it (and still sees) it as a huge waste of potential and an opportunity lost. The other group believed that the fact that the state had chosen to allocate fertile land even though barren land was available on the other side of the road was deplorable. Therefore, while we remained poor, we would choose what was right! While we would potentially cripple a source of sustained future income we would not do this by paralyzing those who have no other form of employment. I have my own views on this but want to avoid an unnecessary discourse on who's claim was more legitimate. But the larger sentiment that I experienced then was of pride, realising that mass movements did lead to large scale change and that people do have a voice when they want to have one.
I have vivid recollections of visiting the temporary structure created near Metro Channel and marveling at the resolve displayed by the protestors. I can still hear the tunes of Rabindra sangeet and the sense of optimism amidst the helplessness as my father and I stood amidst a hundred thousand people. We were silent but we were making a point, we believed in what was right- but we also believed in respecting what we had left ! This seemingly innocuous event change the narrative of Bengal and its subsequent political structure- I feel privileged to have lived there when it all happened.
Left, Right and Centre:
As I go through my life now I realize that I am possibly a curious onlooker as the world passes me by. My priorities have evolved, my friends have grown older, practicalities have superseded the idealism that was once so integral to me and others in my generation. I know that I will have a view even if I dont express it. I will have a voice, even if I dont speak.
My experiences in life have taught me the importance of perseverance and making an impact. However given rational expectations I realise that the concept of evolution is at odds with the concept of leaving a lasting legacy. My fear of impending death (at some point - be it at fifty, sixty, seventy or eighty) is possibly a function of realizing that I will, despite my best efforts, be forgotten like the many people who have dared to dream. I find solace in the fact that I have people who admire me and extend genuine affection - my parents, my spouse, my relatives and my friends but I have so many roads to traverse and so many experiences to assimilate.
Life is analogous to driving a car. We find our highways, we get caught in traffic but we move on with the people we love- as the world (and life) passes us by. To the onlooker, sweating on the street, our position inside the car is aspirational, to us - on the other hand - the convertible a few metres away is the next big step. But we keep on driving, we keeping on hitting the brakes and the clutch and the accelerator - all until darkness sets in and the sound of the hustle and the bustle of the city is lost, lost forever...
We dream, so we may live, we live so we may dream !
The Left
I was born and brought up in a prominent South Calcutta neighborhood- long considered to be a citadel for the then-ruling political alliance. The locality and the adjoining areas commanded significant relevance in the history of Indian politics. It was the parliamentary constituency of a maverick who in her 20s had defeated one of the most experienced Parliamentarians in the Country(she continues to be relevant today in the larger Indian political eco-systems). It was also the assembly constituency of a man from a different political ideology, who would later become the Chief Minister of the state (and ironically taste defeat almost two decades later). This dichotomy of having the Yin and the Yang co-exist is what distinguishes Calcutta from many developed cities in the world. It makes her breathe and live- it makes her feel human!
For me - a six (?) year old, blissfully unaware of these complexities, the prevailing political structures had organically become a part of my identity. The house we lived in was in a lane adjoining the local party office - and therefore a landmark for potential guests, representatives of the postal service, and providers of local forms of commute (read rickshaw-pullers). The party office was built on the western wing of a desolate two storied house with a very large terrace. The house had a shade of pink, deeply entrenched in my memory that I've never seen since. It also had on its eastern wing an image of a blue lotus (the electoral symbol of a polar opposite ideology) which stayed on the walls for many years. The artifacts representing the left and the right resided on two walls of the same building and yet life continued as usual.
The party office building, I was told, was home to a very bright left-leaning student who had lost his life in the 70s. The individual had tremendous promise and the sheer romanticism of unrealized potential became a part of local folklore. While the historical accuracy of the events concerning this remains unverified but the political significance of the building was not lost on us. Even when the building was reconstructed - the party was given a much smaller space in one of its newly constituted flats. The size of the new office two decades later also to a great extent reflected its political fortunes in years to come.
The local Counsellor (then) was a man who was potentially in his seventies. I have no memories of his physical appearance and that he was indeed seventy is a guesstimate. What remains vivid in my memory were images of these large walls painted with the gentleman's name during the prevailing municipal election. I had recently learnt to read and write in Bengali and I found the spelling of the name to be very fascinating. What added to my intrigue were stories of the Counsellor's generosity - my parents had visited him once for some local administrative matter and he (while munching on puffed rice) had offered all his support with humility.
I remember praying to God with all earnestness hoping that he win. I had no line of sight of political opponents, didnt understand what the counsellor did for a living, didnt know when the elections were- but I prayed, I prayed everyday. I was told one day that the 'nice old man' was re-elected - I didnt know what that meant but I was happy because our local Leader (I was told) was a good person. I have no memories of the counsellor post this and remember the gentleman losing his last election and then moving into oblivion like many local political Leaders before him. When I google his name today I dont find him or his achievements anywhere-that there is a wedding hall constructed in his memory is what the search pages tell me. I find this to be such a shame given the fact that our democracy is a function of contributions of so many un-named political representatives forever lost in the annals of history.
The Right
Fast forward a few years and I was in high school but not old enough to vote. Our local cable operator would send an elderly gentleman to collect our bills every month. We were going through a difficult patch financially and I could therefore empathize with what social realities could make a seventy year old go door-to-door collecting bills. The reason why I remember the individual explicitly is because one morning he landed up at our door and described to us behavioral attributes of a young acquaintance who had decided to contest the local municipal elections (ironically against the gentleman who I've described in the first paragraph).
I remember the campaign that followed which lead to the lotus triumphing over the hammer and the sickle. Our cable bill collector ironically was laid off a few months later because of old age much to his disappointment. I would run into him at times while returning from school but not maintain eye contact and cross the road to the other side. This was unnecessary because there was no expectation on my part to kickstart a dialogue and remains one of the only times when I've avoided a difficult conversation. I hope that our cable-bill collector received support from his acquaintance who later became a prominent political leader (and remains one today). I hope he found peace and financial support and overcame his disappointment. I hope he died believing that he was not a failure and had made a difference !
The Centre (?)
I was in my last year of college when two developments around me shook up the rest of the state. A young professional had been found dead in unnatural circumstances. It was alleged that he had married the daughter of a prominent industrialist against his wishes which lead to conspiracy theories. On the hand there were reports which suggested that this was a case of a man losing hope and finally succumbing to the practicalities of his situation. As a nineteen year old, the idea of love transcending social and economic boundaries was appealing and I remember signing the large banner displaying the deceased's face on my college walls. What happened to the case finally I have no idea. I know that the wife moved out of his house and was seen in social gatherings and events, I also know that the deceased's brother became a Member of the Legislative Assembly. As I look back I find this to be a rational outcome of life, when romanticism erodes and practicalities and need for survival kicks in. For example: I loved Howard Roark when I was sixteen but I see him as an eccentric and impractical person who took advantages of the modesties of the woman he loved now at thirty.
The second event which shaped me was possibly one of the biggest political movements in Bengal which ironically also depicted a dichotomy. A state which had for long been deprived of large scale investments had finally received interest from a prominent Corporate House. On the other hand the investment would potentially come at the cost of sacrificing one of the region's most fertile lands.
What happened in days to follow is interpreted differently depending on one's political ideology. One group saw it (and still sees) it as a huge waste of potential and an opportunity lost. The other group believed that the fact that the state had chosen to allocate fertile land even though barren land was available on the other side of the road was deplorable. Therefore, while we remained poor, we would choose what was right! While we would potentially cripple a source of sustained future income we would not do this by paralyzing those who have no other form of employment. I have my own views on this but want to avoid an unnecessary discourse on who's claim was more legitimate. But the larger sentiment that I experienced then was of pride, realising that mass movements did lead to large scale change and that people do have a voice when they want to have one.
I have vivid recollections of visiting the temporary structure created near Metro Channel and marveling at the resolve displayed by the protestors. I can still hear the tunes of Rabindra sangeet and the sense of optimism amidst the helplessness as my father and I stood amidst a hundred thousand people. We were silent but we were making a point, we believed in what was right- but we also believed in respecting what we had left ! This seemingly innocuous event change the narrative of Bengal and its subsequent political structure- I feel privileged to have lived there when it all happened.
Left, Right and Centre:
As I go through my life now I realize that I am possibly a curious onlooker as the world passes me by. My priorities have evolved, my friends have grown older, practicalities have superseded the idealism that was once so integral to me and others in my generation. I know that I will have a view even if I dont express it. I will have a voice, even if I dont speak.
My experiences in life have taught me the importance of perseverance and making an impact. However given rational expectations I realise that the concept of evolution is at odds with the concept of leaving a lasting legacy. My fear of impending death (at some point - be it at fifty, sixty, seventy or eighty) is possibly a function of realizing that I will, despite my best efforts, be forgotten like the many people who have dared to dream. I find solace in the fact that I have people who admire me and extend genuine affection - my parents, my spouse, my relatives and my friends but I have so many roads to traverse and so many experiences to assimilate.
Life is analogous to driving a car. We find our highways, we get caught in traffic but we move on with the people we love- as the world (and life) passes us by. To the onlooker, sweating on the street, our position inside the car is aspirational, to us - on the other hand - the convertible a few metres away is the next big step. But we keep on driving, we keeping on hitting the brakes and the clutch and the accelerator - all until darkness sets in and the sound of the hustle and the bustle of the city is lost, lost forever...
We dream, so we may live, we live so we may dream !