This is a true anecdote. The episode took place at Ranchi, a town in Bihar, India. Sanjay (aka Sanjiv), the second son of Indira Gandhi (aka Khan) and Mohammad Yunus, a family friend, had just died in a stunt plane accident in Delhi, thus saving the people of India from the wiles of a dangerous and congenital car thief. He was planning to clamp down a dictatorial régime after Indira had declared the ’emergency’ in India. The general election that took place just after the ’emergency’ saw Indira out of power. But, yes there is a big but, if by any chance, in that election Indira had not been defeated, there was no doubt that this brat of a bastard (both in the primogenitive as well as pejorative sense), Sanjay Gandhi, would have made his mother clamp down a dictatorial rule for at least 20 years. Those who find it hard to believe, are requested to procure a copy of the BBC documentary broadcast to the entire world on the occasion of the 50-year jubilee after Indian independence. Here again, our gods came to our help, quite unbeknown to many.
I had just arrived from abroad to visit my brother who lived in Ranchi. I flew from Delhi and prior to my departure spoke to my brother. He requested me to wait at the small airport until he came down in his car to pick me up. He was likely to be delayed a little. So I waited at the Ranchi airport after my plane landed.
Within about fifteen minutes, all the passengers were gone; so were the magazine vendors. I was left alone with my solitary suitcase in the small passenger lounge. There was another man though; a village constable. He was a tall man with a big stick in his hand (they didn’t carry guns in those days) and an impressive turban or pugree.
In order to pass time and to gather some news of the township, I greeted the old man. Our conversation covered many areas, from the curse of bribery to many other things. It is well-known that in US newspapers they rub in the news of small bribery indulged in by our village policemen. I broached the subject. My old man was a little embarrassed. Unlike PVN Rao he did not deny the small crime. He said, in Hindi, that it was indeed true that he too, like so many other constables took a little ‘tip’ from those that committed a small infraction, now and then. Taking all of them to court was a time taking job. Didn’t I notice how the court cases in India never came to an end and more often than not, the culprit or the accuser died of old age before the judgment was delivered!
Then he was on the offensive. The constable told me that the amount of money, the little bribes or rishwat that he took was of the order of a few annas; never more than a rupee. That he had several children; they had to be fed and clothed and looked after when they fell ill, etc. His salary was so meager. I could not agree more.
Then he asked if I knew who were the real culprits? I asked ‘Who?’ The old man, with a lot of venom in his voice, said that it was the ministers, the high officers of the government, who were the real robbers. They were not satisfied with a rupee or an eight-anna bit for bribe; they went after lakhs of rupees, sometimes, even crores. And no one even knew about them. I could see the true picture of the situation in our poor country. I did not have to listen to Palaniappan Chidambaram’s grandiose elocutions in Dravidian English delivered at financial seminars on India to feel the pulse of the country!
The old man went on. He drew the analogy of the rot in a fish stemming from the head. And shook me when he asked if I noticed how Bhagwan, Hindi for God, took His revenge! I did not quite follow and asked:”How?” He said in Hindi: “Dekha na saab! Bhagwan ne kaise Sanjay ka nidhan karwa diya?” (Didn’t you see how God took care of Sanjay?). I said: “No, how indeed?” And then I went on to argue that Sanjay died in an air accident and it had nothing to do with Bhagwan!
The constable said: “Nahin saab. Sadharan log aise nahin marte. Aap jab marenge, main jab marunga, ham buddhe hoke marenge. Hamare apne apne rishtedaron ke darmiyan bistar par leth kar marenge. Sanjay ka khatma kis tarah hua, maaloom hai up ko?” (No sir! Ordinary men and women do not die the way Sanjay died. When time for our deaths come, we will die on our beds, resting among our relatives, near and dear ones. Do you know which people die like Sanjay died?” I was a little perplexed and said; “No, which people?”
He continued:”Duniya ke sab se badmash log is tarah marte hain, jaise ke Hiranyakashipu ke nidhan hua tha. Aap ko to maaloom hai kaise Nrisinha Avtar ne Hiranyakashipu to apne jangh par letha ke maar diya tha?” (The worst crooks of the world die like that exactly as Nrisinha-avtar slaughtered the demon Hiranya-kashipu on his knee!) I was flabbergasted; there was no doubt that this discussion had already taken place umpteen times in far away villages. It indicated in what light the real people of India saw the ruling family and its leading lights!
The constable was not about to stop. He was quite excited. He said: “Is ka dusra matlab bhi hai. Is nidhan ke zariye bhagwan ne kah rahe hain ‘Dekh beti! Samhaal ke chal; nahin to teri bhi aisi hi haalat hogi’.”
(This killing has some other meaning too. By this killing, our God is telling Indira Gandhi: “My little girl. Just go a little slow. Otherwise, you too will end up the same way.”)
Now, mind you Indira was not yet about to die. But we know now how she died. It was she who had ordered the military attack on the venerated Hari Mandir Sahib on a Gurpurab Day when the temple was full of women and children. Certainly, such a heinous crime cannot go unpunished in the land of Dharma!
Soon after, my brother came with his car and I bade good bye to the old man. I learnt that one did not always need an astrologer to read the future. One can read the future if one is able to read the mind and the body-language of the criminal elements in the country, from the top to the bottom!
In the car while traveling to my brother’s place, I related to him the entire conversa-tion that I had with the old constable. My brother, an old resident of the township, said that the main thrust of the conversation tells us several things. That ‘Dharma’ or the true sense of right and wrong among the roots of our nation is not lost yet. It also shows, never mind all the secularist, anti-Hindu measures that these rulers are taking to punish the native population, are bound to fail. We, the so called educated people do not really count. When the final apocalypse will take over, it is these common people who will determine which way the country would go.
It took us all only a little more time to see the truth of the statement. In a country where people would not even hurt a chicken, in the land of Gandhi’s patented ahimsa, there were not one, not two, but three assassina-tions in quick succession. All three were Gandhis. One was shot by a Hindu, another by two Sikhs and the third was pulverised by a Catholic lady of Tamil extraction. And in the mean time, the other two, Sanjay and Nehru died too. One in that airplane accident and the other of the shameful sexually transmitted disease, syphilis!
