Mainstream (April, 6, 2002)

We are all Guilty
by Mallika Sarabhai

I stand amidst the ruins of civilisation as I knew it. In a penumbra
that seems unending. In a winter fog where "our" kind get into their
fancy cars and loot and pillage while SMS-ing friends about the best
places for satisfying unbridled greed. In a land where "friends"
speak a language of vile hatred. In a State where Kubera is the only
mantra and Lakshmi the only woman to bed. In a city where the R word
desecrates humaneness.

I accuse. For they have taken away my pride at being a human being,
the smile that lurked on my lips when I spoke of my city. They have
emptied my wardrobe of the colour saffron. They have taken away my
joy of belonging to a land of understanding and compassion for
difference. And the ability to say with a glint in my eye that I
belong to the people who gave Gandhiji his non-violence.

I accuse, for they have turned us all into puppets, pulled by the
strings of selfish opportunism. Into a voiceless, gutless race. For
having taken away the worst names we could call those others: animal;
junglee; rakshasa; beast. For leaving us with only one name
deregatory enough for what we have become: mankind.
I accuse, for I have let myself be numbed into docility. Into feeling
that I could get on with my work and things would be all right. That
ultimately good would prevail. For letting the educated and "should
know better, should care more" group become the silent majority
neutered by the vociferous lunatics set on self-destruction. For
letting myself become a part of that silence. For trusting
incorrectly. For letting everyday inanities dull my soul to the
genocide being planned and executed.
I accuse. We have become a country of the blind and the deaf, the
self-centred and the soulless. We have become a country where our
leaders lead us on superfluous paths of promises. Where leaders have
become bleeders. Where warped priorities become the toast of the town
while reality withers with the disenfranchised.
Was it always this way? Am I old enough to hanker after "the good old
days"? I am sure I remember a time, not so long ago, when we were not
known by caste alone but as people. When values were not yet the red
spit that paan-chewers bloodied the walls with. And when you could
have a conversation at a dinner table without someone you knew well
saying, "Serve the bloody people right; they need to be wiped out
once and for all." I remember a time when schoolchildren still stood
up for the national anthem. A time when something was sacred, valued,
beyond bigotry.
I accuse, for I, we, have allowed things to come to this pass, I, we,
have given a new meaning to the period called Kalyug. I, we, have
become the Mahishasuras that swallow and destroy the world. Our only
answer, our only sanity lies in plumbing our depths to find the
Mardini in each of us, that vanquishes the Asuras. There are no
external solutions left. There is no "we" and no "they". We are them.
Myself and every citizen of this once great nation.
Yes, I accuse. Myself and every citizen of this once great nation.