Paul Lyndoh
2011 came and went and we cruised into the new year in what looked like nano-seconds. Was it a good or bad year? As in most cases, it was a mixed bag of fortune, depending on your experiences in your professional and personal life, with success or failure on any of the major aspects- health, finance, inter-personal and spiritual life- as yardsticks to determine your rating. Internationally, the buzz-word was revolution, with unprecedented uprisings in the Arab world – aided in no small measure by the media and the internet- ensuring the demise of the old and the birth of new regimes. Closer home, the national scene witnessed chaotic though, thankfully, non-violent- upheavals over another buzz-word- corruption. True to Indian style, it was a see-saw battle of wits and chest-thumping, a fiery display of passion and patriotism that degenerated into a ridiculous farce over the Lokpal Bill as the year ended.
In our own backyards, it was a year of declarations and inaugurations for the Govt. of Meghalaya and frustration and quiet resignation for the people of the state. Govt. proudly declared its pious intention of resolving major outstanding issues- the boundary tangle, influx, road connectivity- but ran out of steam in a jiffy. By year-end, things came to a virtual standstill as life in at least four districts of the state continues to be disrupted by daily traffic gridlocks and the State government gave up any pretence of having any interest in resolving matters. The Minister in charge of Home (Police) has not deigned it important enough to share his thoughts on the imbroglio, realizing, perhaps, that silence is indeed golden and only a handful of idiots would be cretinous enough to speak their minds out in a state like Meghalaya!
Taking a cue from developments in the rest of the country, the image of the politician took more battering throughout 2011, with repeated accusations of abuse of power and pelf sounding shriller day by day. By the second half of the year, that image was reinforced when a particular MLA sent his clone to an official programme to the dismay of his hosts, another issued summons to the Privileges Committee of the assembly when he was issued summon slips for illegal parking by traffic cops and a third- a minister- was thrashed by a mob for cavorting noisily in a community forest with a couple of tea-selling damsels! Obviously, the interpretation of what privilege means remains unclear or, like beauty, lies in the eyes of the beholder.
Is the politician in Meghalaya singularly ill-mannered, venal and disrespectful of the law? The verdict is out on this count, but I have always believed that we (i.e.,politicians) are not creatures from Mars but are a mirror of the society and the ethos it represents. In a state where the rule of law is tenuous and tentative and flexing one’s muscles is an art perfected through practice, few can honestly claim to be above blemish. The cop slyly extending his less-than-clean hand to the passing truck, the village headman summoning those who have the audacity to question his role in fudging accounts of Govt. schemes, the church elder seeking undue patronage from his MLA- all are in cahoots with a systemic disdain for the rule of law. As we cry murder and bandy the choicest adjectives around to describe members of the political tribe, the age-old question resurfaces: “Which one of you has not sinned and can, therefore, rightfully cast the first stone?”
Murder most foul ?
OUR home-grown JFK (John F. Kharshiing) chose to describe the marching orders issued by the KHADC CEM, Pynshngain Syiem, to the Syiem of Nongspung, Peter Roger Syiemiong , for allegedly entering into a clandestine agreement with the representatives of the Govt. of Assam to facilitate a road project linking the two areas as a “murder of democracy”. Frankly, this is bunkum- and bullshit- of the first order. How democratic is a Syiem who acts like a subversive, fly-by-night operator, independent of his Council of myntris (if he has one) and the Dorbar Hima (the State Council) he represents? Time is ripe- if not over-ripe- for a review of what our limited, so-called representative indigenous democracy has done to serve the interests of U Khun u Hajar (the multitudes, the citizenry). When Syiems can behave shamelessly like Commission agents and convert community property into individual property in a highly-urbanised Hima Mylliem, what prevents them selling all clan and community assets lock, stock and barrel to the highest bidder elsewhere? Where is the element of transparency and accountability in their day-to-day dealings? How many sessions do the Dorbar himas have in a year? Is it not a conspiracy of silence bought on the legal tender legitimized by our blind faith in and submission to tradition? Is Ka Riti-dustur (Customs and conventions) made for the Jaitbynriew or vice-versa? I recall the words of Dr. Kynsai M. Warjri of NEHU who quipped :’ Mynta ym don shuh ki Syiem, sah sa tang ki thliem” (Now there are no more Syiems, only leeches”). If this sort of democracy is murdered, I am one who will shed no tears over its demise.
Monologue of a God
I am God, the earthly god. At least I think so. More accurately, that is what people say I am. Or more precisely, that is what they think I behave like. So I want to trace my origin, the story of my metamorphosis. My development from the egg to the larva and from the larva to the pupa and finally to the adult stage, when I attained the graceful form of the butterfly.
The egg-stage began in a nondescript village when I attended school but had to abandon it as my parents did not think much of education. I completed Class I, which virtually means I can write-albeit haltingly- my own name, unlike most of my peers who tended to their cattle or were busy haggling bets over bull-fights.
The larva stage came as my father struck gold (coal, to be more correct) in our own backyard, much to his- and everyone’s- delight. We- and several of our kinsmen- found an answer to their prayers.
The pupa stage cannot be pinpointed with precision, but perhaps the moment of reckoning was when Father told me one day: “Son, we are well-off enough to diversify our business into something else. My aged eyes have always detected the leader in you. Why not fight the forthcoming elections?”
The adult stage followed like spring time follows winter. Here I am, a leader of men, a shaper of dreams, a moulder of visions. I dispense justice like an emperor. And men , women and children submit to me ungrudgingly, unconditionally. Parents genuflect before me and seek my blessings before the marriages of their children. I pay for their wedding gowns and suits, the merry-making, the wining and dining. When it is time for the couple to become parents, I look after their every single need. Right to paying their hospital bills. When the kid gets ready for school, I make sure he gets the best education possible- in the village school or, if I am particularly fond of the parents- I even get them sent to Shilong. And when he is ready for employment, I take care of that as well. Oh, it can be quite a headache, but why should one meant to provide relief for all kinds of aches complain? When the parents die, I see to it that all funeral arrangements are properly attended to. And so the story goes on.
Are you not intelligent enough to discern that I have the power- the omnipotence- that befits God, that in fact I am God? When you sometimes curse me out of envy, hate or sheer disgust, and you call me leikhyndew (Earthly god), don’t you realize that it is you who have elevated me to that pedestal?
Parting Shot
I am inundated by friend requests on my Facebook homepage. I routinely scrutinize the profile of the friend seekers. Their job profile, their likes and dislikes, their favourite quotes, religious and political views. Most use pseudonyms, and pictures of celebs (something I haven’t understood). How can one be friends with someone too diffident to use his/her identity, and too insecure of his/her looks to hide behind Penelope Cruz or Matt Damon? But what interests me most are their political views. They are invariably: “I hate politics”, “Politics sucks” or” Politics? Not me”. And they all seek the friendship of someone who completes a decade of active politics this year!