Lokpal and the color of corruption

Almost three and a half years passed, since I wrote this commentary on the movement for Lokpal bill led by Sri Anna Hazare.  Presently, the hulla-bolla of Lokpal seems to reach its fate accompli.  Moreover, some of the past comrades of Annaji have recently occupied the seat of power in the state of Delhi, and raised the expectation of Aam Admi in providing fair and just governance. It would be interesting to see their adjustment and political realignment in the prevailing system. Under this context we may revisit the events of August 2011, and my understanding of the movement at that stage.

                                                                                                                  16.02.2015

It appears that a large section of so called civil society of India are emotionally charged by the hunger strike of Sri Anna Hazare, and are joining his bandwagon for placing his version of Lokpal Bill to fight the corruption in the Government machinery. They consider that the Lokpal is the messiah for upholding democracy in this country, as it will make the Babus and Netas accountable, and enforce transparency in their dealings with private citizens. Interestingly against a far more blatant violation of civil rights, we have not heard these voices so loud and clear. We have not seen mainstream media’s outcry against the most uncivil laws practiced in different parts of this country (e.g., AFSPA in Manipur). Hardly there is any coverage and support for activists like Irom Sharmila Chanu, who is on hunger strike years after years (since the year 2000) for their withdrawal. We have not found these champions of democracy to go for a hunger strike when Vinayak Sen, the dedicated doctor serving rural people of Chhatishgarh and leading a social movement for people’s health and economic upliftment, was kept in prison for more than a year with flimsy charges. They were all mute listeners to our roaring Home Minister who labels any civil citizen as supporter of ultra-left violence, if he / she raises voice against the state repression on common people and repression of political activists fighting against such atrocities. Now these champions of transparency and corruption-free India have suddenly stormed the capital with the slogan of formation of Lokpal Institution for fighting the menace. Even a section of media hails their movement as another freedom struggle.  Mainstream opposition political parties are also happy to join the frenzy and commotion of volatile mass, which can overshadow their links with major business houses and their corrupt patronage to them, as the color of corruption in the eyes of Annaji is ‘Sarkari’.

Interestingly, Government is also more than ready to bring the Lokpal Bill, which is to be tabled in the Parliament in the current session.  But Annaji and company want their versions in word by word to be accepted, even if Parliament is not willing to pass them. Even more surprising is the fact that these two versions have cosmetic differences, such as whether to bring the office of Prime Minister under its purview, whether it should be able to judge the judges, how the selection committee should be formed, whether an MP’s participation in the parliament is under its jurisdiction, whether the CBI should be merged with the Lokpal, etc. All these could have been resolved in the parliament during the passing of the bill and bringing amendments to it. However, the peaceful Gandhian and his supporters started burning the copies of the Government’s version, and demanded complete adoption of their version by any means. The Government also on its own rationale, chooses to heighten the tension between two camps. They could have considered so called civil society’s version for the parliamentary debate, and resolved it there. In stead, the Congress party started attacking the individual members, questioning their integrity, and subsequently the Government allowed the situation to embroil into a state of confusion and anarchy. They arrested Annaji and their associates, and are successful enough to bring the Lokpal in the forefront of antigovernment demonstration.  

Why Lokpal?

One thing is clear from the shadow fight of these two opposing camps. Both of them apparently agreed upon the fact that the present constitutional bodies for checking corruption failed abysmally. From their eagerness of looking for an alternative institution, we can infer that our executive bodies and judiciary are either incompetent or corrupt to handle this corruption. We need a separate constitutional body, which should be specially targeted to punish the rogue elements in the government machinery. Lokpal appears to be a ready-made solution under this context. It is under consideration of parliament for decades. But neither the present, nor the past Governments, which included oppositions as well, had any intention of tabling it.  So the credit goes to Annaji, as he took the opportune moment of exposure of a series of scams and corruption involving different Ministries and a section of MPs, and mobilized his supporters with favorable media coverage for the constitution of Lokpal. What is amazing, is the promptness with which the Government accepted the demand, and subsequently, almost all the political parties, which were not so keen on passing Lokpal bill so far, started favoring its speedy adoption. Annaji and his team became buoyant with their negotiated success, and went for a glorious celebration. The Government also was more than happy to trap an opportunity of showing its face of reformation, when it has practically nothing to offer to the people in the face of rising inflation and under-employment.

   

Brickbats between two camps

What confuses us is that, even after Government’s assurance on formation of Lokpal, there is no lessening of antigovernment rhetoric from the opposing camp. They rejected the draft produced by the Government, and placed their own version to the public. However, to a non-partisan person, they would appear by and large in conformity. There are differences, but they are not as significant as asking for any revolutionary change in the social or political structure of this country. However, Annaji and his associates are adamant on insisting their version to be passed in the parliament. In fact, they virtually want to override parliament’s independent review, and dictate their own terms in this regard. Their uncompromising attitude towards any deviation from it has created the present impasse. Let us try to understand why they are acting so defiant?  What is there in the Government draft, which made them so much impatient?

It appears both the parties are eager to protect their own interests in their own domain.  The government wants to have its greater say in the constitution and running of Lokpal, and at the same time, tries to protect its functionaries from the harassment of frequent frivolous complaints, as expected to be a defeating outcome of this exercise. The activists on the other hand want to keep themselves out of this scrutinizing process and reject any accountability of making charges, whatever may be the basis and motivation of the complainants. As many of them run through private patronage and work in forming NGOs and Societies, they also want to keep the functionaries of these organizations, out of the gambit of Lokpal. They consider that it may lead to possible harassment from the Government.   However, it does not fit with their vision of justice from a Lokpal, as an independent body, free from the intervention of Government.

Heroes and villains

The basic presumption of anticorruption lobby is that the source of corruption is Government machinery. To substantiate this argument, they cite evidences of   roles of a section of MPs / MLAs/ Ministers/ Judges/ Bureaucrats / Public servants, etc., on scams, those came into surface in recent years. They hail roles of journalists and media, civil right activists, retired judges, and lawyers for exposing the corruption, and want to strengthen the process through formation of Lokpal, their own version of Lokpal. To them corruption is a result of aberration of an individual’s own integrity and honesty. For tackling them the society requires vigilance on these functionaries.  As there are villains, there should be heroes as well in this highly tensed drama. Our heroes, with the help of Lokpal, will punish these unruly horses. So self-styled guardians of our civil society are hogging the limelight of media, and posing themselves as the messiah of corruption-free India. For the Government and the political parties backed up by business houses and private sectors, it is very convenient to subscribe this theory. They need not look into social causes and face various unpleasant questions on the source of corruption. To them a fasting Anna is more than welcome, than a Sharmila of Manipur. So Lokpal is the right choice for the right moment. Only it is a matter of bargaining between our politicians and so called guardians; how they will use the Lokpal for their glory and maneuvering.

Color of corruption

The question, which remains unuttered in this process, is the role of corporate houses in systematic corrupt practices in Government machinery.  Every scam is associated with big and small corporate houses. It is difficult to leave exception of any particular big business house, which has not taken part in this game. Even usual judicial procedure recently indicted a few higher officials of those corporations, and put them on trial. It is their money power that corrupts or attempts to corrupt individuals in every sphere, whether it is Sarkari or Besarkari. It is a recurring phenomenon, and still Lokpal is meant for checking the Government functionaries only. There is no check or vigilance on the practices in the corporate house, on their employment of lobbyists, hosting social gatherings, influencing media coverage, participating in various Government committees and influencing decision on promoting their business, etc. There is no mention what punishment society should reserve for them for amassing wealth through these means. Even within these corporations, there are corruptions related to stealing employee’s benefits, evading taxes, etc. Lokpal is silent on these matters.  In the rhetoric of our anti-corruption activists, not a single word is spared on these matters. One may argue that there are other laws for handling them. But are they effective to tackle them? Then, why should not a separate institution like Lokpal be formed for tackling them? It is unfortunate that our so called civil society and also the media promoting them are silent on this issue, when the color of corruption becomes ‘Besarkari’. There are awards and patronage for them from these corporations. A section of media is also run by big corporate houses.  Naturally, they should not pursue these unpleasant questions with the same zeal, they showed otherwise for the ‘Sarkari’ corruption. The same is true for political parties and their Governments protecting vested interests of these houses. In this regard, there is little difference between Annaji and Soniaji. They are brothers and sisters on the same boat.

22/08/2011

A Friendly Investigation

I love reading detective stories. My favorites are from Satyajit Ray, and Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay, who created immortal Bengali detectives like Feluda and Byomkesh. It is both exciting and exhilarating to read their exploits, which usually culminate by a grand exposure of the truth behind a crime connecting all missing dots in a sequence of events! However, till date I still carry this doubt, whether such a species called private investigator exists in reality. Even if so, I wonder, in real life how he (she) unfolds a mystery before an august audience, or whether at all, gets an opportunity to do so! I never met a person with such distinction, nor heard any such story from a firsthand account; except in one occasion, I did experience something similar. I was then in the second year of my study in this Institute. The story I would like to share, requires a brief intro of my early hostel life here. Let me put them on record. My only rider with this narration is not to take any of my friends’ names seriously. They are all fictitious. Neither the dialogues are very authentic. Most of them are notional. I am left with shoddy outlines of those events, and hopelessly trying to connect those missing dots.  

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As a matter of fact, I never left this place since my admission here. I did all possible degrees in engineering here, and joined as a faculty member subsequently. Presently all our hostels are so crowded that hardly a room is singly occupied. But in our days, we had the luxury of enjoying our rights to exclusive privacy from the day one, as we stepped into that world; and what a world was revealed to a semi-urban boy of seventeen in its very first night! It’s not that I was not prepared!  More than thirty students from my college, where I studied for my high-school degree, were admitted that year in this Institute. Out of them around fifteen students got their accommodation in the same Hall (hostel), where I was also put. Before coming here, I did hear various horror stories about so called ragging by seniors from my friends. Though I was mentally prepared to face them, I had no idea in what form this terror would strike me. I was also taking comfort of the fact that a good number of my classmates would also be staying in the same hostel, and together we would find a way to face the situation. So when my father accompanied me to my hostel with the luggage, I implored him to leave me at once. I was worried, if anything unpleasant occurs before him, he might feel humiliated and insulted.

It was around lunch time. After seeing off my father at the gate, I went straight to the mess (dining hall). I took a tray from the counter, and looked for a seat in a table. There seated all strange faces before me. Out of them I did find a familiar figure and face. It was my friend, the math-genius, and once a room mate in my previous residential school, who must have arrived there before me. But hardly could I recognize him! If he was not distinguished by his thick glasses and a very fair complexion, I could have missed him as well! Where was his curly and fluffy hair, for which he was so proud of? Even he was ready to defy then the dictate of an Army commandant, who was supervising our NCC drill, for retaining his long hair. But, at that moment it was mowed too heavily to acknowledge its fragile existence on his unusually big head. To my eyes it looked worse than what he had once suffering the trauma of my experimental hair-cut! Moreover, there was no trace of his nicely trimmed moustache and beard in his clean shaved face, which he was carrying otherwise a few months ago! Anyway, I was very glad to see him, and sought relief from his presence in this seemingly hostile and unknown territory! He was taking lunch almost without looking at anyone. So I did not receive any greetings from him, when I took my tray beside him, and dropped myself on a chair. I asked, “When did you come?”

He whispered, “Don’t talk to me.”

“Why?”

He moved his eyeball around trying to make me aware of the charged atmosphere fuming around me.

“Good afternoon, Professor!” It seemed someone greeted me in front with a hissing sound. I looked up, and found a lanky frail figure; wearing a colorful kurta (a long shirt) addressing me. In fact, there were a few other strangers, strangely smiling at his remarks. I could sense the teasing tone from his voice, but I could not help replying back, “Good afternoon!”

“Good afternoon!” he mocked me back, and sat on a chair beside me, “What is your name, Professor?”

I told my name.

“Do you know mine?

How could I? That was our first meeting! I said, “No.”

“Well you should. Look Tano! What a great moustache our Professor has!”

“Leave it Bhox! He just arrived.” Tano took pity on me. But, Bhox continued, “Not till our Professor promises me that he should get rid of it. And if you don’t, I will chop the half of it. The other half you could carry if you wish! Will you not?”

I remained silent as I did not have any idea how to respond. Bhox still continued, “And what a lovely hair you have? A real hero! But look at! Ouch! Does a hero wear chappals (leather slippers)? Dear Professor, you need a genuine shake up! Wait for the evening!” Fortunately my tormentor had to hurry up for afternoon classes. I had to run also to my new Department, where an orientation class was supposed to be held.

During the orientation session the professors of my Department were getting introduced to us. We were about thirty five in number, and majority of them were from my college (high school) and two other Institutions of Calcutta. That year from my college, more than thirty students took admission here, and out of them twelve (including me) were placed in my Department. We were told about different facilities, and opportunities in the Department. However, I was not very attentive to those lectures, as I was worried about the unknown horror waiting for me in the evening.  I met my high-school classmates there too. All of them bore the signature of a thin hair-cut and a moustache-less appearance.  Kobi, an old pal, looking at me told, “What kind of preparation you had my dear! You are going to die tonight.”

I told, “Why?”

He hushed, “You have not shaved your moustache, kept long hair, wearing a Chappal instead of shoe! Didn’t you know that those are to be observed here? This is ragging period yaar (friend)!” 

I took surprise in the tone he was talking to me. We studied together for past two years, and interacted quite often. But I never heard him talking with such a dramatic intonation. I frankly admitted that I was completely in dark. I enjoyed my happy moments for past two months in my home after the HS (Higher Secondary) examination. Though I was apprehensive about the infamous ragging of this Institute, I did not make much effort to know these details. Rather my parents were more worried than me. There was a person who graduated that year itself from our town. My father contacted him and brought a reference letter from him. I was asked to produce that letter to one of my seniors in my Hall in case I had any trouble. That’s all the preparation I had. There was another worry for me. I confided to him, “I do not have any shoe presently. I am not used to it.”

“Well! You are in deep trouble, Brother! Better get a pair. Go to Gole-Bazar (a market place in our town). Have your hair cut, and buy a pair of shoe.”

 I took his advice. No sooner than our introduction was over, I left the place, took a rickshaw and went to Gole-Bazar. Fortunately, my father gave me enough money for my initial settlement. That saved my day. By then, I was knowledgeable enough about various protocols that needed to be followed during those initial days, so called ragging period; a period lasting for a first few weeks. After that every freshman had the equal right of freedom and justice as others. How long could the period be? It could be a month; it could be a few days. All depended upon the whims and rationales of a few senior students. So I was not sure how long we had to wait for our days of redemption. During my whole ride by that rickshaw, I was making a mental list of ‘do’s’ and ‘don’ts’ that I learned from my friends. First, wishing a senior was an integral part of the protocol, and one had to address him honoring his temporary knighthood in that period. Moreover, the trick of getting a reprieve from a person was to remember his name fully from the first letter to the last including the acronymous middle part of it, and with a mandatory prefix ‘Mr.’ before the full name for every utterance.  Hearing such an honorable debriefing on his existence, any person in this world should possibly refrain from playing tricks with the messenger. Moreover, if I knew the name of a person, he needed to take additional precaution, for not becoming a catalyst to any untoward incident, which might get reported to the authority.  However, I was also warned that reporting to the authority may not bore well with the greater community of my new strange world, where I would be living for at least five years.

The market place was quite far from my Institute. It took about half an hour to reach there. It was in the middle of July, and occasionally it rained that day. But when I reached there, the afternoon was shining bright. To my delight I found the place quite clean and had enough space to roam around. It was not like any other usual crowded market place. After arriving there, first thing I did, was to find a saloon and luckily found an empty seat there. I always felt relieved, if I find that I do not have to wait in a cue to have my hair cut. It went smooth – a very special cut indeed; on my request the barber trimmed my hair twice. He also shaved my beard. When he thought that his job was done, I asked him to remove my moustache. He hesitated a bit and asked, “Are you sure?” I told him to go on.  It was a bit of consolation to me to know that I was not the only person there, who was unhappy at that moment. With great reluctance he finished his job.

With my new appearance, and a shining pair of shoe on my feet, I presented myself with a renewed confidence.  The moment I entered through the gate, I met a person gentle in appearance with a philosopher’s look behind thick glasses of spectacles. I greeted him, “Good Evening, Sir!”  

“Good Evening! What is your name?”

I told my name.

“Department?” Then he asked again, “Which School?”

When I told the name of my School, he was very pleased, “Oh! I am also from the same place! I heard this time a good many number have taken admission here.”

I confirmed.

“Good! Come with me. Don’t get afraid. I am Arunava Bose. Did you have your snacks?”

“No, Sir!”

“Then come with me in the mess.”  

Before going there, I went to my room and kept my belongings. Arunava scouted me the whole route. He advised, “I may have to act rough in front of others. You should not mind. Today, I will take to my room so that no one can disturb you. But you should not avoid anyone. Here, we like to see that you mix with everyone in this Hall.”

I followed him to our mess. Evening was not so bad. Arunava took me to his wing, and introduced me to his wing-mates. Some of them behaved rough and tough, but I realized soon that most of them were acting for some reasons. They intended to be as friendly as possible to us, yet not violating traditional unwritten codes of conduct in asserting their seniority to a new-comer.

I was a complete stranger in that world. It’s not that I was a beginner in my hostel life. I had already been a veteran for two years in that regard. That too was a college hostel, as our high-school study was done in a college. But the atmosphere in my new hostel was completely alien to me. It sounded so chaotic to me; it appeared so irrational, that it made a lasting impression on my study of human nature. Western rock and high-pitched metallic sounds were being played all around, intermittently mixed with sudden shrill voices with strange vocabulary.  We were advised many do’s and don’ts then. We came to know that there were infamous raggers in our Hall. Again there were also a few famous anti-raggers. If we show our attachment with those famous personalities, we might get into more trouble. The biggest challenge was to get the name of a senior. It might not be as trivial as it looked.  The honorable person in all likelihood won’t introduce himself. We had to get it indirectly, either listening to the names addressed toward him, or by searching them from their copy-books lying here and there. Sometimes they made fun of confusing freshers by calling their friends with wrong names.  Our introduction went on beyond two o’clock midnight. Finally, when all the neighboring tantrums seemed to ebb down, I was asked to go back to my room, with a piece of advice, “Don’t get caught by those night-mongers!” Fortunately I was not. After entering my room I simply threw myself on the bed, and went to sleep. Even I had no time to change my dress!

A half an hour later I woke up suddenly with sounds of banging and kicking at my door from the outside. Both the window and other objects in my room were vibrating with shouts of kicking and warning from outside. Still half asleep I replied on top of my voice, “Wait please!” and opened the door. Four strangers with full of aggression and abusing language pushed me into my room. The very first question they asked why I was sleeping. I had no answer; I already got used to such irrational questions before! Anyway, they went on observing their rituals in welcoming a freshman, with a half-hearted indirect introduction of them. As per rules of games, these spirited gentlemen did never utter their names to me directly. So the task was shared by others in a round about way. I went through these exercises with their mutual threatening and cooperation on this matter, and could wish a “Good Morning” to a few of them with their full names. Sometimes I needed to answer them by squatting myself on an imaginary chair. Then, they asked me, whether I knew where the Musoorie was. By that time, I was informed enough to know that, in that world Mussorie was not the famous hill station, but the empty box-space between the ceiling and the top of cemented wall racks of my room. I had to ride there, and jump from that height to the floor.  It seemed they were pleased enough on my compliance. Then, they took me out. A few others were also brought in the lawn in front of our wing. For half an hour, we paraded, ran a few races, and, got drenched in water thrown from top. Some of the late-night watchers of that gala show, leaning forward against the railings of their corridors in first and second floors, were occasionally throwing buckets full of water over us. Finally, our hall president intervened and requested them to allow us a few hours’ of sleep. That was my first night in this Institute!

We went through those first few fiery days testing our patience, and in turn, grew a sort of solidarity among us in the face of common humiliation. Many of us vowed for ending this abject irrational practice of welcoming new-comers. We were also encouraged by quite a few of the seniors, who shared similar views. But the opposition was in varied forms. Some felt the practice was necessary for integrating a new-comer in the melting pot of our cross-cultural tradition. Some took it as an avenue for hunting new talents among them, who might otherwise put themselves under the curtain of shyness. Some considered physical abuses abominable, though they favored teasing and mental subversion. A minority of them wanted to oppose this culture at any level, but they were afraid of getting labeled by a term ‘anti-ragger’, which had a stigma of social ostracization among the student community. There were some students who became famous by being a ragger, and a few by the tag ‘anti-ragger’. It appeared the politics in our Institute was largely affected by these two identities, and candidates of elections in Gymkhana and Hall councils counted support from the community for their respective causes. There was a bit of twist in this labeling also. ‘Anti-raggers’ were also equated with ‘commies’, as the most vocals among them openly professed their allegiance to communism. Naturally, it was difficult for a student to get himself enlisted in the camp of so called anti-raggers with a questionable political brand such as ‘communism’. In spite of that, most of our friends when we left our Hall at the close of our sessions in the first year, agreed that one need not be a communist to stop ragging, and that was what we would be doing in the coming session.  We went home happily thereafter to enjoy our first summer vacation.

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Once I returned from my home and joined my fellow-mates, I found that same merriment and hulla-bolla (chaos) was going all around us, except the fact my own role had been reversed. I had to acknowledge to the greetings of fresh-comers with my freshly anointed temporary knighthood. To my surprise, I found most of my friends started enjoying their newly changed status, and acted roles of habitual bullies to them. I expressed my displeasure to them, and more often openly, which was straining my relationship with them. It happened so, even in my second year, I did not change my room, which was the usual practice for a senior to move up from the ground floor. However, most of my wing-mates decided to stay back so that we could move together in the next academic year.  Even my wing-mates also disappointed me, as I found them behaving in a no different way to a newcomer.  The lead role was taken by Shiva. He used to bring freshers to his room, and bullied them to a great extent. He also encouraged others to join him.  Being confronted by me on several occasions, he shouted at me once, “What is your problem? We are having fun? Either you join us, or you leave.”

I squarely told him, “I would not like to see anyone suffers in my wing. So, let us behave properly.”

My other wing-mates did not oppose me there, but neither did they show any solidarity to me. It appeared they had tacit support to shows led by Shiva.  According to them it was not a great deal, as there was no physical abuse taking place.  Though my role got reversed, I was still depriving my sleep during this period. I took the moral responsibility to move around my friends, and check them against committing any excesses.  I must admit, it was no less strainful than facing humiliation from a senior. Things were taking quite ugly turn. So two weeks later, quite a few of us, likeminded fellows, assembled together, and decided to blow the whistle to bring an end. The matter ended, when we got a report of such excessive abuse, and almost forced our hall mates to come to sense and stop then and there.  That night itself the unofficial ‘official’ declaration from the seniors flagged down the welcoming season of newcomers.

Our days were moving fast with classes, assignments, and evening-addas (informal meets of friends for gossips and chit-chats). In that evening, all of us assembled in one such session in Samar’s room. Our Puja Vacation was just over. So we were sharing our funs and exploits of that season. Samar was my neighbor. I had already grown a good friendship with him. We used to take a long walk in the neighborhood in and around our campus almost in every afternoon. He was also my lab-partner. Besides Samar and me my other two wing mates Shiva and Paritosh were there. In addition, two of my friends from another wing also joined with us. KK and Bishu came from the wing opposite to our block (a unit of a three storied building) in its first floor. Both of them were great followers of sports, in particular, football. KK was a zealous supporter of East Bengal, and Bishu was fanatic on Mohun Bagan. So, whenever they used to meet, they started their mock fight over claims and counterclaims of various feats of their teams. We also used to take part in that teasing, as each of us too belonged to one of these camps and enjoy the fun of expressing our camaraderie to our co-supporters.  In that season, both the teams shared the IFA shield. As there was no conclusive proof of reigning supremacy of any of them, the debate on their ranking was used to be quite intense. Added to it, we had our funs in comparing greatness of our cricketers.  There too KK and Bishu differed. While KK was a fan of Viswanath, Bishu worshipped Gavaskar.  In that evening also, we had those usual jeering and cheering of their respective teams and sports personalities. Samar, seated on his chair, was making occasional puns and twists of words in these gossips. He was very popular among us. He was a natural talent of fine arts. He could play Tabla and Flute, was a good actor and could draw sketches nicely. The biggest charm of his behavior was his simplicity, and always carried a smiling face in every situation. Like Samar, Shiva was also popular with my hall mates. He was a typical urban boy. He was tall, could mix well with others, maintained a Bachhan-styled hair, and tried to mimic his art of speaking for impressing others. However, rarely I could get along with him. It was not a secret between us, neither to others. Shiva used to lead all this discussion to his favorite topics on girls and sex, which were not to my taste, and I used to express my displeasure. Likewise, I also detested his cheap porn jokes, which he used to crack often. I was surprised, how a person like Samar started enjoying his jokes and mannerism. My other two wing-mates, Dipten and Paritosh, with whom I grew intimacy, were nice and gentle. Dipten was a reserved person. He was formal in his interaction, and used to maintain a distance, while Paritosh was more open, but quiet.

Our adda started with usual exchange of information and teasing on our exam preparation. Then it turned toward sports and movies, and finally settled with Shiva’s hot topics on his recent exploits with his girlfriends in Puja Pandaals. The audience was quite enjoying and appreciating his story of tricking a girl with usual punctuations of slangs and lingos of teen agers.  The story was yet to be finished, when suddenly Dipten knocked the door, and entered the room in haste. Finding all of us there, he announced with a serious tone, “I am sorry, I am interrupting you. But I thought I must inform you all.”

Samar asks, “What’s the matter boss? You look so serious.”

“I am not getting a few hundred rupee notes. I kept them in my purse. It was lying on my table. Someone must have stolen it.”

Samar exclaimed, “No way Boss! Are you sure you did not lose your money somewhere else?”

“I am quite definite. There were two hundred rupee notes. I counted them even in this afternoon. Within these two hours they got stolen.”

Shiva commented with an irritation in his voice, “What is happening yaar! We should be careful about outsiders.”  He looked quite disappointed at not being able to finish his story.

Dipten told with conviction, “It’s not an outsider. Who is going to come in these hours? Moreover, I was around. Only for a few minutes, I had a brief chitchat with Paritosh. I was clearing my doubt over a Fortran program.”

Paritosh confirmed, “Yes! Yes! You came to my room. Did you lock your room?”

“No. It was only for a few minutes. Usually I lock the door, if I am away for a longer duration. Of course, right now I kept it locked, you see.”

Dipten was naturally very upset on loosing his money. There was a bit of silence. KK told, “Parui was also telling he was not getting a few bucks in his room. He was not sure whether he lost them somewhere else.”

Bishu added, “Not only Parui, Jode too had lost.”

Paritosh confirmed, “Yes. He told me the other day; he was not getting his money. So may be, this stealing is going on for sometimes.”

Everybody looked quite alarmed. I commented, “It means somebody from us is stealing our money. Otherwise, it cannot be such a frequent affair.”

Shiva shouted with excitement, “What are you saying? How is it possible that one of us is stealing?”

Samar too supported him, “No way, Boss! It must be an outsider. Why don’t we catch that milkboy or the dhobi? We might get a clue!”

The mood of that evening dramatically got changed. Our adda also came to an end. Bishu and KK went to their rooms as they had to study for the exam. Shiva too left saying he had to finish some assignments. I was also about to leave, but stopped when I heard Dipten saying, “I suspect a person.”

“How come?” Samar asked.

“He took a book from me to read, and later being asked denied of having it. So I went to his room and found it lying on his table. Of course, he apologized, and swore by Goddess Kali that he had forgotten about it. But I doubt; it appeared to be intentional.”

“No way!” Samar still could not agree.

Paritosh said, “I also suspect someone. Most likely we are talking about the same person.”

We found Dipten and Paritosh eyed each other and smiled, as if they reached a consensus. We pleaded, “Tell us. Whom do you suspect?”

They did not oblige us. Paritosh only told, “It was also a book. Once he took my JT Bell (A book on coordinate geometry written by Robert J.T. Bell, and identified here by the name of the author). When I asked he denied. Then I found the book on his table. It was a new one, and my name was not yet written there. He insisted that he owned that copy. But I could find a few exercises marked by me with pencils. However, he was very adamant and not to be convinced. I could not say more.”

Samar told, “Oh? Why don’t you ask that bastard to return your book?”

Paritosh said, “You know. I am not good at shouting and quarreling.”

I told, “But others should be warned. Let us inform our wing mates.”

Both Paritosh and Dipten almost simultaneously told, “Please no! It may lead to false accusation and a loss of face for all of us.”

---

I suspected Shiva as the person meant by both Paritosh and Dipten, almost immediately. But I was afraid to ask them by naming him as I was already known not in good terms with him. So I might appear mean to them and unfairly biased against him if he was truly innocent in their affairs. So I went to my room with the anxiety of knowing that one of us had the habit of stealing. Next day I asked the coordinate geometry book from Shiva. He gave it to me. I searched for pencil markings in exercises, and found them quite easily.

So I confided to Paritosh about my suspicion. He readily agreed that he also meant Shiva the other day. We went to Samar, and later called Dipten. We all shared that piece of information, and decided not to disclose our suspicion to anyone unless we could find any proof of Shiva’s involvement in stealing money. We started also observing the wings where Shiva was visiting, and found that he was occasional visitor of those rooms from where moneys were stolen. One evening we again heard that there was another incident of stealing. This time it happened to Subir who was my schoolmate as well. He brought money from his home for paying mess bills. The amount was about Four hundred rupees. I met him in his room, and wanted to know how the money was stolen, and who the persons were visiting these days. He had no specific answer to my queries, and did not mention anyone’s name in particular, but we knew that Shiva often did go to their wing for a gossip.  I consoled Subir saying that one of us in our Hall must be in that horrible business and the thief won’t stop unless he found himself in our trap. Hence, there was a good possibility of recovering his money.

Though we were suspecting Shiva, we were careful enough not to give any hint to him. Neither, we disclosed it to others. He was interacting with us with his typical mannerism and carefree attitude. Once he asked me, “What is happening boss? We need to be careful about our money. I heard Subir also had lost his bucks.”

I told him, “Yes, it’s quite unfair. He came from a needy family, and it would put him in great difficulty.  He has to pay his mess-dues. Anyway, we have to find the culprit.”

He teased me, “Are you people after someone? After all, Subir is one of your schoolmates, and so many of you are here. You must be doing something.”

“Yes, we also felt we need to act. But, It’s difficult. Whom to suspect?  Let’s see.”

“Tell me boss. If I need to do anything, I am available.”

He expressed his sincerity in tracking down the culprit.  

Paritosh finally suggested, “Let’s check his bank account. If he is stealing, he must have been depositing it in his account.”

“How could we?”

“I will get his pass book, and give it for an update. He has given me one of his room keys.”

Paritosh did get the book from his room, and we all went to the bank for updating it. To our surprise, there were really a few deposits within this period, and our suspicion became firm from that day.

We were not sure how we could get a conclusive proof of his involvement. Even the deposits in bank accounts were indicative, not enough for challenging him. However, the providence played its role.  We were not at all prepared for the chain of events unfolded next. This was how our investigation ended, rather unusual and a bit of anticlimax compared to what we find in finishing pages, paragraphs or sentences of a detective story. Nevertheless, that was exciting too. The evening started as usual. I was in my room studying for the end-sem exams, which were scheduled after a fort-night.  Suddenly, I got a knock at my door and heard an excited voice calling my name. I found Arun and Jyoti outside my room. They informed me, “Parimal’s money was stolen, and Shiva was seen there a few hours ago.” By that time, some of my friends might have guessed that we were after the thief, and Shiva was a possible suspect. I immediately called Samar and Paritosh, and went to Shiva’s room. He was inside, and opened the door. I told him, “There is another report of stealing. This time Parimal is the victim. Let us search everyone’s room, and find out whether the money is there.”

Paritosh added, “Parimal was intelligent enough to write the numbers of those notes, as all this stealing were going on. There should not be any difficulty in identifying the stolen bucks.”

I stared at Shiva, but he appeared unmoved.

Shiva told, “Search Boss! This is not fair. But what can I do?”

He remained seated on his chair during our operation. We were so desperate that we were looking for the money at every possible place in his room. We searched his bed, books. He also opened his suitcases. But of no avail. I had to be always apologetic during this operation, however with dogged determination we went on carrying out the search. I exclaimed, “We should also search our pockets. Let us try that.” But when we turned our heads and looked for him, we did not find him there. He was nowhere to be seen. He left his room by then. But a few minutes later, we heard Jyoti running and shouting with excitement, “Shiva was caught red handed. He was found keeping the money over the flush-tank in a toilet. Parimal was following him and caught him in his act.”

---

That night itself Shiva was sent home accompanied by some of our friends. He did not face us after being caught, neither we were interested in getting us into any further embarrassment. He had to skip his year of study. His mother approached us for a possible reconciliation allowing him to stay in our wing, and completing his study for that year. But so hotheaded were we then, we rejected her request. I regretted later for our impoliteness to her. Shiva rejoined our Institute a year later, and he finished his study one year after we graduated. During his remaining years in our Hall, he maintained a low profile, hardly speaking with any of us. However, in his final year, when I was doing my Masters here, we had our rapprochement. We met occasionally and exchanged greetings.  Once we played a few games of chess in one of our in-house competitions. He was a better chess player, and defeated me quite easily!

04/08/2013

Science, Rationality and an Individual

Science and technology have shaped and transformed our society to such an extent, that even their utmost critics find it very hard to contradict their description and explanation of this material world. It does not mean however that we, as members of this society, have accepted them (scientific facts and reasoning) in our day to day affairs, in our professional, social and cultural life. On the contrary, we observe increasing influence of conservative religious faith and beliefs over a great many people. It is not only the backward section of our society, because of their lack of education, subscribes to those views and faith, but also, the educated advanced section, by and large, is influenced by unscientific theories and practices in various degrees. Some of them actively become their protagonists. Some passively submit to prevailing practices due to social pressure, and obligations to our near and dear ones.

Sometimes, a zealous rebel against these unscientific beliefs and faith relies heavily upon a conspiracy theory for this conflicting state of affairs. He (she) may attribute this irrationality to a few conspirators, who are economically benefitting out of these unscientific practices and beliefs. No doubt, there are material incentives to a select few for influencing the population with non-materialistic and meta-physical world-views. It is natural that they would try their best to put resistance on introduction of any new scientific theory and facts to the society, which may affect their business and economic interest. But, their success largely depends upon the active and passive acceptance of those unscientific views by the greater populace, who need not be coerced to follow the dictate of a few. The greater masses do it willingly in most cases, and even actively (and very often violently) oppose any change to their rituals and practices, however harmful, undemocratic, oppressive and irrational they may appear in this twenty-first century.

We need to assess rationality of an individual with this perspective. If we assume that the basis of our rationality is the adherence to scientific thought processes and our faith in scientific knowledge, we find that the rationality of an individual does not solely depend on his (her) willingness and determination to observe this strict adherence. It is not only the social inertia and backwardness that may blur a person’s world-views, but also, many a time, our judgment on different matters gets skewed and confused by claims and counter-claims of different schools of thought, all supposed to be champions of science. Such a power the word science has today! No doubt labeling any obscure view with this magic word puts an aura around it and its proponents! So it is necessary for a rational individual to judge the boundary between science and non-science. Our discussion is aimed at understanding how our rationality revolves around this judgment.

The very first question that arises out of this discussion is what science means to us. To some it may be deemed as a collection of facts, laws and theorems about this material world. To some it is just another way of describing worldly phenomena out of several plausible alternatives.  Some may consider that it is limited by its effort to understand this material world only. But beyond this fragile reality, there exists a realm beholding spiritual and supernatural phenomena, which should be left to other schools of human thoughts such as theology, mysticism, etc. To them any apparent contradiction in explanation and description of this material world between science and other schools of thought is nothing but a reflection of our limited understanding and experiences about this world. 

So is there any clear and precise definition of science, which imparts a distinct identity to it? Some years ago, I was going through a book written by Carlo L Lastrucci (ref.  “The scientific approach: basic principles of the scientific method”, Schenkman Pub. Co., Inc, 1967). I couldn’t agree more with the short definition he outlined there. According to him, “Science may be defined as an objective, logical and systematic method of analysis of phenomenon, devised to permit the accumulation of knowledge.” According to this definition, science is an analytical process or a study for deriving knowledge from this physical world. This study is characterized by various attributes, which are briefly mentioned in the definition. Let us get more into them.

First, and foremost, a scientific study has to be objective. The objectivity in a study implies that its outcome, if any, should be demonstrable fulfilling the conditions of the study, and moreover should not be limited to experiences of a few individuals. Any person following the same methodology adopted in the study, should have similar experiences. The other facet of objectivity is that science only deals with phenomena which are related to this material world. They should be observable and measurable. A non-scientific study very often lacks this objectivity. It merely summarizes an individual’s experiences, and fails to demonstrate or repeat them to a larger audience.

Scientific study should be logical in the sense that arguments and logic used in the study should not contradict any of the established scientific facts, laws, and theorems. If there is any iota of deviation, scientists need to relook at them. Scientists have developed universally accepted and a self-critical framework for placing these arguments. There are different branches of logic and mathematics that a scientist has to learn and apply in presenting them. Often we hear the phrase “zero tolerance” from a top administrator or a politician, on the face of a sudden disclosure of unethical practices in their organization or departments. There may be skepticism (in many cases justified too!) against their pledges. Science, however, has to truly maintain “zero tolerance” against any anomaly or deviation from its established laws and facts, while examining any argument in favor of certain explanation or observation. If it allows or accepts such deviation, it has to keep the debate open till its logical resolution, in consistence with its complete spectrum of knowledge. For example, at the end of the nineteenth century, it was thought that the mystery of nature had almost been solved, except two unexplained phenomena; namely, absolute or non-relative speed of light in vacuum, and the nature of black body radiation. However, the quest for solving these riddles revealed a new set of laws of nature to us in the forms of theories of relativity and quantum mechanics. Those theories, in turn, threw many other new questions to us, which demanded examination and explanation. This characteristic also reaffirms the “logical” character of science. It is “self-critical”. It does not merely observe or state a fact. It also takes the responsibility of explaining a new observation within its logical framework, and if the explanation fails, it tries to examine it again and again with different evidences and arguments, till it gets a consistent resolution either within its established laws and theorems, or supplementing (or replacing) it by new laws of nature.

Today’s scientific world-views have not grown from random studies of a few individuals or organizations. These are fruits of systematic observations and their explanations over the centuries. Individual contributions were always made from experiences and knowledge accumulated in the past.  No one should ignore the historical development of any scientific concept. Our understanding of physical world has been enriched and refined at different stages through discoveries made by Galileo, Newton, and Einstein, a continuing effort in advancing human knowledge limited by their era. The special and general theories of relativity have not been proposed all on a sudden by the genius Einstein. They were product of accumulated knowledge in that era. Neither do they reveal the ultimate truth. They are continuously tested with new evidences from different phenomena, and in the event of their failure in explaining them; they may require to be modified. For example, there is a gap in our understanding of how gravity works in atomic and sub-atomic scales. Though gravitational force of macroscopic bodies is partially explained by the general theory of relativity, it is not yet explained by quantum mechanics. These questions are arising due to our progressive understanding of nature, and their resolution also depends upon our systematic study using these accumulated experiences and knowledge.

Very often unscientific and pseudo-scientific claims defy this characteristic of pursuit of knowledge. Persons making such claims may dazzle us by their tricks and propaganda without any scientific argument and explanation of their methodology and outcome. Even they may fool scientific community for sometimes. For example, a few years ago, news of invention of petroleum production from herbs was widely circulated in media. Even the Dept. of Science and Technology (DST) initially accepted the claim. Later it was found through careful examination of their proposed methodology that the claim was false. Even at the outset of such announcement (of the invention), someone should have been doubtful, as there was no prior history of such possible conversion; neither the person was known to have scientific knowledge in related areas.

Let us discuss what challenges we face in recognizing such non-scientific claims, ideas and thought-processes. Many of them may take the camouflage of scientific terms and processes.  They mostly adhere to a pseudo-scientific school of thoughts. These disciplines were nourished in ancient times as a part of scientific studies and they were consistent with the limited knowledge that we had in those times. But, later they were historically rejected (e.g. palmistry, astrology, etc.), as they still retained their fundamental premises, which have contradiction with the scientific findings and theories. So, we can identify pseudo-scientific ideas and claims, when we find even a slightest deviation from any of the characteristics of science. They could be devoid of objectivity, may lack explanation, or may ignore a systematic study. There are also some schools of pseudo-science, where even today there are partial efforts in carrying out objective study. But, they still use their obsolete logic and explanation, which are contrary to scientific discourse.  Many of our traditional schools of medicine such as Ayurveda (traditional Indian medicine), Unani (traditional medicine practiced by Muslims), and even relatively modern school of medicine, Homeopathy, fall in this category. They mostly rely on empiricism, rather than explaining the cause of a disease and the functioning of a drug in physiological and cellular processes. I must admit here, that I am not disputing their partial utility in our society. Some of their practices may have been found effective for treating certain diseases, but reasons (according to these schools) for their effectiveness do not necessarily subscribe to scientific explanation.  Neither these schools are capable of developing and enriching themselves with new scientific discoveries. They remain as traditional as they were centuries ago. In fact many such pseudo-scientific therapies attempt to exploit the limitation of scientific knowledge in certain areas of medicine. More often, we may find advertisement of these therapies for treating incurable diseases, such as different types of cancer, or chronic diseases like asthma. Even if a treatment exists for such a disease in modern medicine, it may come with a tag of high price, unaffordable by many of us. In such cases, we may tacitly compromise our faith and belief in one of those pseudo-scientific therapies. Pseudo-scientific practices are also prevalent in commercial advertisements, as companies or manufacturers cite various surveys and scientific study in favor of their products. But these studies are driven by their commercial interest, and are prone to be biased and incomplete.  

Confusions also exist due to limited scientific knowledge in various domains. There are living debates on various topics in the scientific community. For example, how this universe was created? Whether it came from a huge explosion popularly called ‘big bang’, or it had the steady state from the beginning, is a burning question to the scientific community. It is difficult for a common man to form an objective opinion on such a matter. This example may look benign as it may not have any direct implication to our livelihood. But there are many other debates, which demand people’s involvement in the decision making process. For example, how do we solve the energy crisis today? How do we avoid the danger of destroying our environment? Should we go for nuclear energy or should we not? Are wind-mills environment-friendly?  Should we build dams in a river? Everyday we face various such questions, and require taking a side.

Not only confusions around pseudo-science and scientific debates affect our rationality, but in many other ways, non-scientific views also influence us. Unless we are aware of their nature, we could be very easily swayed by those arguments and beliefs. After all, we live in a society; we grow in it. Our daily habits, cultural and religious customs, social pride and prejudice, history of our national identity, etc., may shape our opinions on different matters, which may apparently look quite natural and justified. However, they may lack objectivity in their assumptions, and professing of different facts and figures. Often we get swayed by the propaganda of Government and political parties in favor of their program and sectarian outlook. In particular, this gets aggravated during a war against another country, and suppression of any popular movement within.

So a very relevant question on maintaining our rationality is that, how do we judge ourselves under this scenario? How do we place rationality before prejudice? Undeniably, a rational person needs to be self-critical and to be disciplined enough to examine objectivity of facts and arguments placed before him (her). However, as we discussed before, the struggle for its sustenance is not merely confined to an individual; it is also a social struggle. There lies the importance and significance of any social movement and revolution championing the secular scientific outlook. It is not only the era and knowledge that determine our rational behavior, but the present state of social movement against unscientific ideologies also checks our rationality. That is why, it is difficult to say whether the masses in the eighteenth century carrying forward the French revolution were less rational than the present generation, equipped with all the modern gadgets, and enjoying the fruits of technological innovation and invention in their daily life; yet, many of them are swayed by religious sentiments, and sectarian intolerance.

28/07/2013

Lost Poems

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a poet. Well, do not get alarmed! If you asked any average Bengali boy then, you would have got the same answer.  After all, the greatest hero in our land is not a religious messiah. Neither was he a war-lord, nor any revolutionary leader. He is our great poet Rabi Thakur (Rabindranath Tagore)  – whose poems and rhymes we have been breathing since our childhood. So, I dreamt to be a poet. As every dream needs a push, it was my mother, who excited my budding grey cells those days. I am not sure how early it was. Most likely, it was after I finished my primary school.  I was a little hero then in our small township, as I topped in its final examination in the circle, and was awarded a scholarship. In one evening, my father came from his office, and announced that a local weekly wanted to start a page for kids, and requested him for a contribution from me.  My mother asked me, “Why don’t you write a poem?”

“Can I?”

“Try.”

So, I sat with my notebook and after struggling for an hour, came up with a few stanzas. It was about a  piece of green mango, freshly fallen from a tree in an early morning in spring. In fact, every morning in spring and summer, I used to visit then a mango tree in our dwelling to search for such fallen pieces. Our land lord had permitted us (kids) to pick any such fallen pieces, with a stricture that we should not try to get them by throwing stones or riding a tree. As an early riser, I had an advantage over other kids, and no sooner than I woke up, I used to run to the base of the tree with great excitement and expectation for possessing a piece before others. So being confronted with the literary demand from my parents, my materialistic mind could only get inspiration from that adventure, and desperately sought to pour out both joy and frustration in those lines. When my mother went through them, she smiled and encouraged me with an appreciating tone, “It’s nice. May I suggest a few changes?” I readily agreed. Finally, very little of my originality could survive her onslaught. But, after a few weeks, when I saw my name printed on the weekly, I was immersed in supreme happiness, and proudly exhibited it  to my friends.

About that time, I started going to my new school. It was a high school, and I was admitted to the fifth grade.  Within a few months, our Bengali teacher typically took notice of me, as he was very much impressed by my answers in the very first examination of his paper. I do not know why he liked that typical answer-script. But, he profusely praised my performance in the class and spoilt me to such extent, that I became very proud and confident in my proficiency as far as the subject Bengali concerned. I could never match his expectation in subsequent examinations. One day, he was told that I could write poems. He asked me, “Can you write one for me?”

“Now?” I could not suppress my excitement, and was eager to prove my talent.

He said, “Why not?”

So I wrote something, and showed it to him. He was a good-hearted person, and encouragingly patted me.

I confided to him, “But, it’s so easy! Everyone must be able to write a poem, if he wants to.”

He told me, “That’s not true. You may find it easy to get rhythms. Others may not.”

He spoilt me again. He turned my whims into passions.

…

So I continued with my creation. Whatever event excited me, I used to scribble down them into rhymes. I was bold enough to show them to my friends and teachers, and even read out on some occasions in our school. I wrote one such long ballad hailing the victory of India in world cup hockey. Once I composed a poem condoling Nazrul’s death the day poet died in Dhaka after suffering from a prolonged illness. Next day,  I recited it during the morning prayer, after our Head teacher addressed the assembly honoring his death. Today, if I recollect my school days, I wonder the way I enjoyed my freedom. I was not afraid of presenting myself in any forum. May be, I was innocent enough to differentiate between scorn and appreciation then. Though I must say that my friends were always nice to me, and they respected the way I wanted to be.   Somehow, when I left my school, and came out from my fictional world, I lost that innocence and confidence, and was shy enough to exhibit myself to others.  Fortunately, by that time the copy-book with the collection of my early poems had been lost for ever. I did not bother to get them back either. So that’s it. That was the end of a poet. It is true that I made some efforts even afterwards.  But, I never trusted them, as I did before.

06/07/2013

Pawns in a system

“The human species can adapt and settle to any kind of environment. They could reside at the height of fifteen thousand feet, or build cities a few feet below the sea-level. Even one day you might find them developing settlement beneath the ocean. But look at animals, birds, insects - they follow nature’s judgment on choosing their height of comfort. For example, migratory birds always maintain certain height during their long distance flight. In spring time, you might have seen those swarms of dragonflies flying not more than fifteen feet above you in a late afternoon.  Even though they become happy fodder for Chataks (a type of small bird in Bengal), they remain undaunted in swerving and shining above against the dying sun.  I read somewhere, that there is a kind of insect which lives on egg-plants. It never crosses a height of four feet above the ground. So if you put a dense net across the plant covering that height, it is saved from the insect.” Aloke (not his real name) stopped at this point, and looked at me with the usual smile. We were sitting outside the club-house, and enjoying the evening breeze coming from the riverfront. At the end of another long torching summer day, we were cooling our souls in that lovely evening. The moon was almost full, and shining above us.  It created a maze of light and shade in the surroundings. Aloke appeared to me grown a bit aged than his usual self. His calmness and quiet voice struck me little odd, but I considered it was due to the hangover of the tiring heat of the day making its way in the coolness of the evening.

Aloke is my childhood friend. Now-a-days he does not live in my hometown. He has moved near Kolkata. The day before I came to visit my parents in my home town, and was planning to meet some of my old friends in the week-end. So it was quite a coincidence when he answered my call, and informed me that he was also in the town. We set an appointment at his club around eight in the evening. Last time we met there during Kali Puja. It was always refreshing for me to have an adda (tete-tete) with him. When I arrived there, I found him arranging a few chairs outside. He welcomed me, “Let’s sit outside. It’s so hot inside the clubroom. At least you get today nice breeze from the river.” We took our seats. He ordered for tea from the nearby stall. He was expecting others to join. However, they preferred to go inside to watch TV and  play cards.

I commented, “This is possibly the worst summer in my life.”

He said, “Hope so! You do not know what is waiting for you in coming days!”

 I asked, “You must be feeling horrible during daily commuting.”

Aloke travels daily by train to attend his office. I know these trains are so much crowded, that it may not be even possible to board them from an intermediate station like the one Aloke commutes from.

He replied, “I somehow manage to sneak in, and place myself beside the door of the coach. I do not bother how other two hundred passengers inside that compartment are struggling. I simply want to be among those four, who could stand near the gate, and at least, enjoy the cool air rushing from outside.”

“Is there no competition for those places?”

“Yes! You need to be an expert, experienced, and moreover extremely motivated to earn your prized position. It does not mean, I am in heaven and others are in hell! All of us are almost in the same boat brother, but fighting for a little personal preference on our adjustments! That’s how we human continue to live and grow! After all, the human species can adapt  ….”

This was how we started our conversation, where he distinguished a human being from other animals of this world for its unfathomed capacity and tolerance to adjust itself in a hostile challenging environment.

His words reminded me of experiences of one of my friends cum students on living in an uninhabitable part of this world –in our army barracks of Siachen Glacier.  He is a doctor in the army, and had spent a few years in Siachen. He told me how our soldiers live their days and nights in a temperature as low as 35 degree below the freezing point.  Before going to Siachen one has to go through an acclimatization program for about two months. If you fail the test, you need to go through again till you declared fit for the service. In Siachen camp, a doctor has a very important role not only to take care of physical health of the resident soldiers, but also to monitor their mental state. The doctor has to communicate with every soldier, and needs to take utmost precaution even for an ordinary syndrome like headache. In that high altitude, it may turn into a life-threatening sickness. It may require even his evacuation from the camp to its base. Then the decision of a doctor becomes so vital for his survival, that it needs a lot of courage and conviction, to fight against the camp commandant, if he shows any reluctance in permitting the much needed evacuation. I shared his experiences with Aloke. My doctor friend also told me how the soldiers had to carry out the task of patrolling in disputed areas among two countries. The word patrolling may sound to us as another routine benign task of a soldier, but its consequences may be far reaching for him and his family.  He said to me, “At least twice a month there would be patrolling in the disputed land. These are the areas where both the bordering countries put their claims. They can stretch as far as 50 km. from the camp. In Siachen, we have disputed lands with China and Pakistan.  In every patrolling team of roughly 110 to 120 persons, there would be a doctor. We used to divide ourselves into several groups, and cover the whole area walking overnight. It is like a hide-and-seek game. You need to keep yourselves out of your adversaries’ sight. For staking our claim over the territory, we had to walk about 10 to 12 Km. and then plant a flag at some point. We had to throw there some Indian stuff, like bottles, cigarette packets, tubes of tooth pastes and shaving cream, etc. If the Chinese saw you, they would shout, “Go back Indian! Go back!” But they are sensible. They only shout, do not shoot at you. If it is in the disputed area with Pakistan, then you have hardly any choice! You have to try your luck for dodging their bullets. Once, our team was patrolling on a hill top in the disputed area with China. We got a message from our base, that the hill was surrounded by the Chinese army. By mistake we had entered into their undisputed territory. Negotiations were going on between two sides. But we were advised to get ourselves out of their territory by making all efforts. Somehow, by crawling down from the other side of the hill, we could manage to sneak in into our territory.”

By narrating his experiences, I told Aloke, “In every season our soldiers are playing these strange “catch a thief” kinds of games, as we used to play them in our childhood. The problem is that kids are rational enough not to cause any injury in their mock-fights, where the adults are not so.  In our childhood game, if you were caught, you were declared “out”, and asked to be the chaser in the next turn.  But the games our soldiers play at the border have much harder consequences. Being caught at the hand of your opponent, you may spend your whole life in a foreign prison. If you are exposed to them, you may get injured or even killed. Also, consider the crores spent by both the countries for playing these games. Consider the huge effort in gathering man power and resources drawn to that high altitude camps in uninhabitable regions. How many lives would be wasted or sacrificed only God knows! But the show still goes on with ever lasting dispute on imaginary border.”

Aloke was listening intently to my words. When I finished, I found a strange smile on his lips. He told, “This is what our system is.  We cannot escape its dynamics. Siachen is no exception. We are all bound to the rules of the games dictated by this system. Knowingly or unknowingly, you have to play your role following its rules, on which you have hardly any control. Let me tell you a story. How our life is trapped in this system, you would get an idea from it.”

The story he told me after this, let me put it in his version.

…

“You know my father-in-law, a retired school teacher, quite aged now, around seventy years old. He has some ancestral property in a village about 20-25 Km. from here. Do you remember Sadiq Hossain (not his real name), our school mate?  He is from that locality. They ruled those areas as big land-lords before independence, and still have a lot of influence and property in that region. Of course, the village is in the interior, a few miles away from the little township around the main bus-stop. My grandfather-in-law used to take care of their ancestral property. He used to live there. After his death about three years ago, most of the landed property was sold.  Still the ancestral home and a few pieces of cultivable land are left with my father-in-law. About two years ago, father-in-law told me, “Aloke! I am thinking of repairing the temple in our ancestral home. I would also like to build a new temple in the memory of my father.”

I encouraged him to fulfill his wishes. He needed some assignment after his retirement. So in the month of February that year, we went there and stayed for a few days in his village. It was a real vacation for us. The whole family got elated, when the villagers gave us a warm welcome. The whole village celebrated the occasion of our home-coming and inauguration of the temple. Some of them told my father-in-law, “Babu (Sir)!  Do not forget us. You were like our guardians. Do not break the age old ties with us.” He also got  emotional and touched by their fellow feelings.

Last year again in the winter, we  went back to the village. This time father-in-law hosted a Samaj (its literal meaning is ‘society’, but in this context it is a social feast offered to the villagers). Once again, we could feel the joy and excitement of the villagers in having us among them. That was last year. In the beginning of this year, father-in-law decided to build a house there, as the old building was damaged heavily. He wanted to stay in the village more often, and spend more time with the villagers. The work got started. As he was looking after it, he made a temporary hut there and was living with my mother-in-law. This arrangement was going on from February this year. Most of the time, they were spending their days in supervising the construction work. Sometimes he used to say to me over the telephone, “Aloke! Why don’t you visit us? At least find how these two oldies are camping here in the jungle of concrete, and brickwork.”

Last Saturday, an unusual incident happened in that village. Like other days, he was taking rest in the evening inside his temporary hut. Suddenly he could hear sounds of commotion, and speeding footsteps outside his house. Coming out in the open space, he found a few villagers running with excitement. He asked them, “Why are you running?” They replied, “Folks in another part (called parha in Bengali) of the village caught a thief.” My father-in-law took no further interest in this matter.

However, as it happens in such a situation, the poor thief got a real thrashing from the villagers. Then the police came, and took him away in their custody. Next day,  Barababu (Officer in-Charge (OC) or the first sub-inspector (SI)) of that police station came to investigate the incident. He took statement from the villagers, and prepared a report. The villagers wanted to get it checked by my father-in-law. He pointed out that the date of the incident was missing in the report, which was taken care of swiftly. The matter ended there. At least, it appeared to them so.

On last Monday, father-in-law’s nephew visited him. He lives also in our town, but has homeopathy practice in their ancestral place. He went there to help his uncle in looking after the construction work. Around two o’ clock in the afternoon, he got a call in his cell phone.

“Where are you now?”

“I am in the village with my uncle.”

“Then don’t move from there. The whole area near the market place has become sensitive. The thief caught in your village has died today. He is from the Mohammedan community. So people from all these villages have become extremely agitated and violent. They blocked road, put vehicles in fire, shut the market place and gheraoed (blocking the entry and exit from a place) the police station. It is better for you to stay tonight at your uncle’s house.”

So the nephew decided to spend that night in my father-in-law’s place. In the evening a few villagers came to my father-in-law’s place, and warned him, “Babu. Police will be coming. You better leave this place.”

He rebuked them, “Why should I run away? What is there for me? Neither I robbed any one, nor I raised a single finger on that thief. So why should I be afraid of policemen? Let the police do their duty, let me do mine.”

The villagers silently departed from that place. In fact, all the male members of that village went somewhere else. None could be traced in that evening.

After an hour or so, three police vans entered the village. With them were the OC and the SDPO (Sub-Divisional Police Officer). They stopped near his hut. My father-in-law came out to greet them. The SDPO made a casual query, “You are …. ?”

He introduced himself and also his nephew as well.

Then they were told, “Please come with us for a while.”

Father-in-law enquired, “What is the matter?”

“Let’s go for a walk. We would like to have a chat with you.”

The nephew said, “I am not properly dressed. I am wearing only a ganzee (casual dress). Do we have to go far?”

“Put on a shirt on top of it.”

Almost immediately both of them went out with the police.

Even after two hours when they did not return, my mother-in-law started worrying. She rang me. It was around 9 PM. She informed me, “Aloke! Your father and his nephew went with the police, but they have not returned yet. I am having an uneasy feeling.”

I was wondering whom to call at that time. Almost everyone in that place, whom I knew was inaccessible. Either their cell phones were switched off, or they were not responding to my call.  Not a single known person could be contacted from that village. Finally I could get Sadiq’s Mejda’s (the second in the seniority of brothers) phone number. I called him. He informed me, “Police arrested your father-in-law, and his nephew. They brought murder charge against them.”  

I was shocked, “How could they bring such a false charge against them?”

He replied, “Police is helpless brother! The situation is totally out of control. The villagers are still waiting outside the police station. Even my Barda (the senior most brother) is not able to get into there. Police has to show some action. So they arrested them. Even the arrested persons are not kept here, in the fear of their safety. They were transferred to the near-by Sub-divisional Police Station. Tomorrow they will be produced before the court.”

As you know Sadiq’s family is very influential and rich in that area. So not letting the head of the family in intervening the matter indicates that the mob was extremely agitated and desperate to punish anyone related to the death!

Next day both the accused persons were produced before the court. But they did not get bail. It was not expected also. None can get a bail so easily being charged or framed under the Section 304 (of culpable homicide not amounting to murder) in the Indian penal code. It was altogether a different and a new experience to me. Before this event, I had never been to a court and had no knowledge of its affair – the show run by the lawyers, judges, court officials and clerks – overall, the proceedings of the hearing for bail application. The whole incident was a revelation to me. First, I was baffled to find the real reasons of the incident, and I realized that my father-in-law and his nephew became the victim of the situation – pawns to a cruel game – hatched by a few rich businessmen of that locality. They were not very happy with certain actions of Mejababu (the second Sub-Inspector or Police Officer) of that police station, who happened to be a good officer and was doing his duty rightfully. But his adversaries were on the look out of replacing him. In the previous jamana (the reign, in this case the period under the rule of left front), things would have been handled differently. They would have approached local party office, which in turn would contact the Alimuddin (the Party head quarter), and get the man in action replaced by a simple order from his superior. But now with the change of the Government, no one knows how to get this thing done. So they took a different route. First, they framed the officer by a false accusation of rape. Then this incident happened. It gave them a new window of opportunity. The victim being a Muslim, they played the communal card, sensing the new Government’s priority in keeping the Muslim vote-bank intact. So they posed the incident as the killing of a Muslim person by Hindu villagers, and incited the communal sentiment to a great extent. They also spread the rumor that Mejababu was responsible for the protection of culprits. Note that Mejababu was nowhere in the scene. It was Barababu who was the investigating officer. But these persons were desperate to castigate him by any means, and the unfortunate death of the poor thief gave them the necessary impetus. So the mob anger was channeled against the police station targeting Mejababu. The message went to the top and the local administration was instructed to pacify the villagers by any means. As a consequence the police lead by the SDPO, raided the village. The poor villagers left their houses. The police arrested my father-in-law and his nephew, whom they met on the very first occasion of their raid. They had to show to the warring mob, that they were successful in nabbing a few culprits!  Still the situation in that area is tense. Every evening the raids are going on in the village. Even as on today, no one could return to that village. I had to bring back mother-in-law from that place. With a great difficulty, by taking Sadiq’s Mejda’s help, I could bring her here.

When the bail applications were rejected, a young lawyer in that court advised me, “Look Aloke-da, let me be blunt. You may hire the most experienced and the costliest lawyer among us, and spend all your money to engage him. But, nothing will happen in this case in near future. Under the present circumstances, and the section framed against them, no way could you get them out of the jail-house. May I suggest an alternative? Now this case has moved to the district court. You have to apply for their bail there. You know that from the Government side, the case will be handled by PPs (Public Prosecutors). There is an in-charge of all the PPs in the district court. But there is also an unofficial in-charge of that in-charge. He is also a PP, and belongs to the ruling party. Contact him. He can instruct this official PP-in-charge not to oppose the bail application. Then only your father-in-law could get the bail. You should first contact your local MP or MLA. Through him, you try to contact the unofficial in-charge. This should work.”

I got the hint. This is how the system runs here. You cannot change or presume its rules on your own ideals. My father-in-law made that mistake by ignoring the advice of the semi-literate villagers to run away. He put his complete faith on the copybook integrity of our cops. I did not want to commit the same mistake again. So I took his advice seriously.

---

Next Morning, I went to meet our MLA. He is a real gentleman, and seems to be quite pragmatic and reasonable. He listened to my briefing of the incident. I could get some sympathy also, when I told that my father-in-law’s nephew acted as his poling agent in the last election. He could recognize him also by name. I requested him, “Dada (Sir)! Please do something! Tell your person in the district court to instruct the PP-in-charge to make some arrangement, so that those two unfortunate victims get their bail. They are truly innocent.”

He advised me, “Write two applications - one to the PP-In-charge, and the other one to the person who looks after our affair. I will write my recommendation on the second one.”

I further requested, “Dada! Please! Can you make a phone call to him, and explain the matter?”

He talked to the political PP over the phone, and asked me to meet him next day.

On Wednesday, I went to the district court and met the de-facto PP-in-charge there. He went through the papers. Then, he took Rs. 650/= from me for filing the bail application, and assured me that the case would be put up for hearing soon.

Unfortunately, due to this heat wave, cease work started in the court from yesterday. Initially we were told that it would begin from the next Monday. A section of lawyers also wanted so. Even on Thursday night, I had a talk with the PP over the telephone. He asked us to report to the court on Friday. Yesterday when we went there, we found vacation has already been declared till the 30^th May.  However, the PP told us, “A few cases were put up in the Morning. Among them your case was also there. The next hearing is scheduled on the 31^st May.”

I asked him, “Dada! Will they get bail?”

He smiled at me and told, “See, on that day the court should ask for the C.D. (case diary) to be produced, and fix a new date for hearing.”

“Then?”

“Then..”, he paused and then continued, “You should realize that if your party gets bail so easily even after being charged under the section 304, it would be quite unprecedented and may create a bad precedence for other genuine cases in future.”

It was not difficult for me to comprehend what he wanted to say by those words. This is what the system is. Whether an innocent person spends a few more days in the prison, is not a matter of priority before the court. Court has its own rational to declare sudden vacation, reschedule the hearings accordingly, and then proceeds in its own pace. The police have their own obligations for tackling the law-and-order in a challenging situation. Even if they had to go for shooting a few lame ducks to save their skins, they would not have an iota of hesitation to do so. Why should they care? Do they have any accountability whatsoever; even if no charge sheet is framed against those so called accused? Only those victims and their families are in the receiving end. They are to face the trauma and catastrophe out of these exercises. This is their fate in this system. Everyone is sympathetic and intelligent enough to realize that these two persons in all probability are innocent. But, once the game is on, the players and actors have to follow its rules and procedures in the process of granting them bail. Till then they have to spend their days behind the bar. So you see, whether it is in the glacier of Siachen, or in a village of Bengal, these games are being played, and you may become the poor hapless victim, centering whom the show would go on.”

…

When Aloke stopped, I wondered, “Do you mean to say, you went through all these troubles in last few days only?”

Aloke smiled and nodded, “The incident happened on last Saturday, just a week before. My father-in-law and his nephew got arrested on Monday Evening. Since then we are on the run. I am here since then. Tomorrow I would go home, and join my office on next Monday. Till the next hearing on the 31^st May, I do not have any business on this affair.”

I did not find any words of consolation for him for a while. When I met him this evening, from his appearance I never imagined he was under such a stress. Even when he narrated me his recent experiences, he disclosed all the information in such an indifferent tone, that initially I thought he was telling me some happenings in the distant past.

I asked him, “Where are your father-in-law and his nephew now?”

“They are in the prison, in this town only.”

“How is the arrangement there?”

“Well, as it should be! There are 56 persons in a room of size  15 (feet) by 15 (feet).”

“Where do they sleep? Do they have cots?”

“Forget it! Even there is no room for spreading a bed sheet. I told you, it’s a room of 15 by 15, per person you would get an area of 4 sq. feet only! I was afraid to ask them to know how they are managing in that cell. But the jail warden is a good person. He told us, “Whenever you feel, you can come, and meet him. I have also asked other prisoners to behave with them properly.” During one such visit, my father-in-law told me, “Aloke! I had no idea what this world could be! Whether you believe or not, 70% of these prisoners are innocent. They are here without any reason. Even one of them is here in spite of receiving a bail.  There is no one to pay Rs. 200/=  as his bond. In his house, he has his wife and two kids only. They do not have any information either. So he is still here. Finally, I made an arrangement to send a letter to his home; hopefully he will be released soon. One day, from another cell, one of the heads of these prisoners came to visit me. He told me, “Mastermashai (an address to a school teacher)! I knew your father. I respected him a lot. I am a lifer (punished with life imprisonment). Even now there are three murder cases against me. But don’t worry. I told others to behave with you. If you face any trouble, just inform me.”  Being a teacher these people are giving me a lot of respect.” I told my father-in-law, “Sir, no wonder there are more innocent people like you in this prison. This is how we run our system. This prison is basically meant for all these poor socially backward people. They are the real victims. This prison is an instrument of keeping them terrorized. It is a coincidence that you happened to be here. Somehow you are caught in the net during the fishing hunt of our babus (powerful persons). You were at a wrong place at a wrong time.”

Aloke paused a while, and then asked, “What do you think a man should possess to survive in this system?”  

I looked at him expecting him to continue.

He observed, “Patience! More patient you are, better is the chance of your survival! It’s a test on your patience! Patiently you need to carry on what you are supposed to do. Do not loose it to defy the logic of this game. Rather, you should understand the script of the drama being staged, and play your role accordingly. Otherwise, you may get trapped in the uncomfortable zone of uncertainty with a catastrophic consequence in your life. Sadly I was miserable at my recent exercises. I could not keep my cool. I shouted at everyone I met concerning this matter; behaved crazily with my well wishers. God knows what I told them out of sheer frustration. Somehow, they tolerated me. But I need to be more careful. Now I am trying my best to assess the situation and rectify myself.  I am preparing myself for the next act of this drama.”

20/5/2012