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Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts

Monday, January 18, 2010

Farewell to a Leader


Death of an ailing 96 year old would not be expected to push regular headlines into the obscurity of the middle pages yet the demise of Jyoti Basu has evoked memories from both admirers and detractors which dominate national dailies this Monday. Though thoughtful in nature these obituaries only serve the purpose of bolstering the belief that 'the man' would not be forgotten in a hurry - a welcome reassurance considering the quality of public memory being ruefully 'short' in our country.

While regrets resound on "what could have been" had "the best Prime Minister India never had" had actually led the United Front government the spectrum of mass opinion never deny his rightful place as one of the most respected leaders the nation ever had. Much admired for his administrative prowess and ability to expedite consensus inside a party bound by Spartan principles his critics found his open Anglophilism and general insouciance for political opposition unacceptable. As children we grew up in Calcutta in times when the police were only heard of when they were bloodying their batons breaking up some opposition rally or the other. Mamata Banerjee, Basu's bete noire turned admirer, bore the brunt of such political arrogance on many occasions in that period. The image of Jyoti Basu which dominates most minds from our generation, growing up in the nineties, to be that of an old patriarch, reclusive in nature, reluctant in ushering revolution - the very plank that defined him in his prime. Still he strangely maintained that iron grip over proceedings in the Secretariat and the heart of the people who renewed his mandate in spite of vicious hand-wringing at many of his decisions. This generation still believe Bengal's unenviable skill at strangling industry is his legacy for us to bear. They willingly overlook the "land reforms movement" which installed Communists in the first place and line up arguments which make the "Comrades" look too power-drunk to have seen their own downfall coming. And not surprisingly Basu became the face of that unchallenged government over the years.

But amidst all the frustrations one must be reminded that it was Basu who invited Telecom and IT industries to the state later taken up with gusto by Buddhadeb Bhattacharya, the present incumbent. His intentions were reformist in nature but with time his actions increasingly bore the seal of circumspection seen in aging patriarchs. A permanent status quo seemed to be the writ from the Writers'. Considering the hurdles Bhattacharya finds himself grappling with presently Basu's stand comes off as one of wise inertia in hindsight. May be his understanding of the very people he ruled prompted his decisions and made him the longest serving Chief Minister of any state ever. With the death of able organisers like Anil Biswas, Harkishen Singh Surjeet and now Jyoti Basu the present party leadership has some very big shoes to fill and going by their recent show at the hustings things can only spiral down from here. On the same note it seems poetic justice for someone like Prakash Karat who blocked Basu's way to the PM's post and now finds himself explaining every drubbing that his policies have ensued. Given the loaded possibility of the Communists falling in a heap in the coming 2011 Assembly Elections one cannot ignore the curious coincidence of the sun setting on the Hammer & Sickle Flag within a year of the last sunset in Jyoti Babu's long and illustrious life.





photo: googleimages

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Witness to a Death

By now people must have read it in the newspapers. I doubt if it figured in the bold significance of the headlines or just occupied a nondescript corner of the 'news snippets' or did it just miss everyone's eye.

The death of a poor bus-driver.

I along with three of my friends were busy fending off the rain from under the shade of a tea-shop yesterday when I saw this huge Krishnachura tree fall over the roof of a passing bus. It fell with a great thud and to my horror I saw the bus ripped into two from the middle.
The impact was so great that the bus stopped within 10 yards of the spot of the accident. We ran towards it. It was a horrible sight to see an otherwise menacing bus in shambles. The front half of the bus had not much left of it. The few people that were inside the bus were making their way out through the back door. I asked one of them if more people were trapped inside. He seemed to be in a daze and replied he didn't notice. There could be many more inside the wreckage. The sight of the mangled remains told us if the ladies' seat at the left and behind the driver's seat were occupied there was slim chance of them having survived. I was surprised to notice a middle-aged woman come down from the wreck and board the next passing bus with unnerving nonchalance. As if nothing had happened.


The rain was pelting down with more ferocity and before long we were headed back to our shelter in the vague assurance that not much harm had been done. The bus was not carrying too many people. Then a person came running along and said the driver had died on the spot. His lifeless limbs were hanging from his seat. That news was jarring. We all were left in a state of shock at having witnessed a death. A death of a fellow human being who knew nothing about his grim fate till a few moments back. How much of a compensation will his family get? Will the Unions look after their needs? Will the bus-owner be generous? No one knows.

Life is just so fragile. And one was snuffed out just yesterday in front of my very own eyes.