Bhrastachari : The Corrupted

Bhrastachari : The Corrupted

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

(The Psalm of Life, H W Longfellow)

The words of the poem echoed in my already tired brain. I had an incomplete job to do and I didnt have much time left. The future of the process depended on the job. The aftermath of the elections would prove devastating. I had to stop him.

The voice of an owl screeching overtook my concentration. Perhaps my inability to stop him would do no difference to his victory. Perhaps this has been continuing from ages. Perhaps the public had already learnt their fate. Exploit the politicians once every four or five years and get exploited till the next elections. This routine had to stop. I would be dead tomorrow at the first smile of the sun. But, still there was time and the situation demanded dire action.

I studied my surroundings and tried to recall the day's happenings. I remembered standing at the front of the Ru TV office with the CD in my left hand. I had already called my ever pestering girlfriend who worked there and any minute she would have come down, taken the CD and informed the public.

"Don’t get yourself immersed, so much in politics, honey." She had tried to stop me many times but never had I listened. Poor creature, I thought. She would be worrying so much now. She normally demanded updates of my whereabouts every twenty minutes. It had already been six hours since I last talked to her. She would have gone mad by now. I needed to contact her anyhow. Only she had the power to stop this terrible fate of the elections.

The owl gave another long hoot. It then flapped its wings and went away. I surveyed my surroundings. It was a dark room, probably in a thatched hut.The room was locked from outside. Perhaps there were two or three men guarding, probably waiting for Rehman's orders. Rehman was an infamous butcher. His family and followers butchered goats. He had long retired from the profession. He now butchered men under the direct orders of Govind Hajariwal ji. Govind-ji was a new entrant in politics but due to exposal of many scams of the government, he was quite a favoured candidate in the upcoming elections. He had personally undertaken many campaigns to root out the corruption in the government. Thousands of followers saw a saviour in him. Facebook and media had made him a hero. Some scandalous babas' and he had formed the Aam-Janata-Party. With time all the dharmgurus had gotten exposed of their ramifications over purity. Govind-ji was very quick witted in each of the cases to save his ass off the gripping tentacles of the media. But the public had a right to know about his reality. Only thing that wasnt there with me was time.

Suddenly, there was a movement in the thatch. A pinch of the dim yellow street light came in from above. I looked up. Wait what was that over the roof. I couldnt believe my eyes. It was my ever pestering girlfriend clearing the thatch with a frantic effort. Soon a rope was lowered and within minutes I was on the roof.

"What are you doing here? Kamini", I asked, "how did you even know I was here?"

She pointed a finger to her lips. Then she pointed towards one of the men who guarded the room I was in some moments before. He was busy playing angry birds on my phone. He cleared a level just then and gloated over his achievement to his mate, who dismissed him.

"Simple! Tracked you through your phone", boasted Kamini.

Perhaps this was the first time she had done a good thing out of her phone. All she ever did was torture me. I had decided if ever I became a well-to-do politician, I would consider "Telephonic Torture" as an added clause to various laws against harassment. But now she needed to be hugged and congratulated.

"Cant you even say me a thanks", said Kamini, "I just saved your life."

"But darling, I was just.....", she stopped me in between and motioned me to follow her. The thatched room was some kind of extension to a pucca house. We easily moved along the thatch onto the pucca roof. I found two young fussy lads standing there.

"Meet Yadav and Guru", said Kamini, "they work with me. They also helped me track you."

We exchanged hands. The nerdy looking boys had made a make-shift ladder kind of a thing from some old ropes that they found in the compound. We easily climbed down the ropes and in a jiffy were inside Kamini's new red i10. Without any other words we were bound towarda Kamini's office. We reached there after what seemed like hours. It was already 3:00 in the morning. Fortunately Yadav and Guru were night-shifters. We didnt have any trouble in getting access to one of the cubicles in Kamini's office.

"What now Tigmanshu ?", asked Kamini.

"Govind-ji is involved in all the major scams that took place Kamini", I said feeling energised suddenly. A sudden surge of adrenaline rushed in from some stupid organ in my body into my blood. "We have to stop him. He has paid quite a handsome amount to win. Tomorrow the results will be out and he would definitely win. Its upto you now to make these documents go viral by morning", I said, taking out a pendrive from deep within my socks. I had sensed the danger then. I had saved all the documents in my pendrive well stacked in my socks. Rehman had only taken the disk.

"We can’t simply rope in a famous leader and convict him of corruption. The public would charge upon us a heavy hand", chimed in Yadav.

"Well a scandal is a scandal. The public can be made satisfied with the proofs", chirped Guru.

"Wait I have an idea", the ever chattering Kamini finally gave way to her chatter unable to remain silent anymore. "The public believes what we make them believe. Is there anyway by which we can declare Govind-ji a hero and still strip him off his powers. By this the public would remain satisfied as well as Govind-ji would simply abscond his throne."

"Shut up chatterb....." Yadav and Guru were chiding Kamini and pulling her legs. A strange confusion was going on in my mind. For the first time I saw a ray of light in the dark. My girlfriend may have been an idiot after all but she was definitely not stupid and dumb.

“Honey, can you call up your boss and arrange an interview with Govind-ji in his house in the morning tomorrow”, I interrupted.

“Yeah! Sure, but will Govind-ji agree to the meeting.” Kamini looked elated. It was the first time that I had asked her anything and I believed she would do whatever the odds may be, to bend them in my favor.

“Of course, he will. He’s a fame hungry man. He believes in one thing. Stay in sight; stay in mind.”

“Consider it done darling.”

We had to us a very trying day the next day. Anything could happen. The plan was to nail Govind-ji in his own house. Kamini was to confuse him up to such an extent that he would step down eventually. The mantra was simple. If you can’t convince them, you just have to confuse them. I asked them to retire for the night and sat down to make a quick jot down of the planning.

Early next morning, we found the odds, in our favor. Govind-ji had agreed. The team reached his place. The camera was focused on his house. Kamini entered the house.

“Welcome everyone”, started Kamini, “today morning, we bring you to the house of Govind Hajariwal ji. A man, well known, a true leader and a honest politician. A candidate, who has the maximum undoubted chances to winning the election. Today since we are awaiting the results of the polling, we felt it suitable to have a chit-chat with Govind-ji before he becomes unavailable to us.”

Govind-ji had already noticed me in the background. A fake smile on his face could be noticed. The rat was already out of his hole. Now he was surrounded by an army of cats to pounce upon him. From his face, it could be seen that he knew what we were up to. He was already confused.

“Before we start with Govind-ji, we would like to have a little message from one of his staunch followers, Tigmanshu Bhrastachari”, Kamini announced.

I appearing in front of the media was a challenge. I had already taken care of whatever-phobia, it was called technically. I had simply followed the old formula. Two pegs of vodka and I was ready.

“Friends, brothers and countrymen”, I don’t know why I started with such a note. Perhaps 10th class Julius Caesar was still in my mind. “A warm NAMASKAR, everyone. This is

Tigmanshu Bhrastachari. If you are still wondering at the name, then yes, I have changed it so. I am a corrupted person after all. I am another product of our so called Indian Tradition and dirty rajneeti. I do go on the road with others shouting slogans against rape but when I see a beautiful girl on the road I fancy her. I am always against pollution but I never leave a chance to dirty my neighbourhood. Every morning, I throw the dirt on the road, give a gentle smile to some gentlemen going on the road and say,"Is Desh Ka Kuch Nahi Kya Ja Sakta". Arey bhai, when we are the ones who dirty the road ourselves then what the damn the municipal people can do. We have changed our official parliamentary language to English but still we can’t tolerate English traditions when it comes to dressing in case of our ladies. If speak English, eat English, study English then why not wear English. We personally feel very happy when the westerners follow our traditions and celebrate our festivals but when we find our people celebrating the Valentines’ Day, we go about shouting against it in the name of SANSKRITI and yet we call ourselves flexible and global citizens. Our teachers teach us not to tell lies and steal but they themselves at the end of every month go about searching for duplicate telephone and petrol bills for some extra incentives. Gandhiji wanted us to have equality. Ok, the reservation system was a necessary amendment then. What is the need of reservation nowadays when the so called backward classes aren’t backward anymore. This is the naked truth of our country and its people who are following the wrong notions about life in the name of sanskriti. If with this sanskriti being followed in India since the last 5 - 6 decades of our independence, we still are being regarded as an underdeveloped or developing nation then dont YOU feel seriously that there is something wrong in our ideals. Handing over to Kamini to continue with Govind-ji, I seriously hope my ideal Govind-ji to ponder over this and do something today to change our system.”

I signed off. I was already dizzy. Now it was Kamini’s job to unruffled the system and change it. I had done my part. The green grass looked quite peaceful and inviting. I lay myself loose on the grass. Freedom was now visible to me in the upper strata of the blue sky. I just wished, nobody would wake me up and shatter my freedom. I was free as the air and I simply wanted to rest.