WHERE SHAME IS SCARCE
There he was. His trademark smirk in place, his spotless white shirt creaking as he walked, the obsequious host bowing low to greet him. A. Raja was attending a wedding in a Delhi Tamil society hall, three of his assistants forming an invisible shield around him. There was nothing to suggest that the former minister had recently spent 15 months in jail on a corruption charge that is still being investigated. There are many like him all over the public arena in instant India. Shame has become a scarce commodity, bartered for a second act in the spotlight, another shot at a profit- making portfolio or a place on the periphery of power, banking on the shortness of public memory and the endless capacity for forgiveness.
We see the rajas and ranis of shamelessness everywhere. There is Abhishek Manu Singhvi in Parliament, fresh from a sordid encounter played out on countless computer screens despite a court injunction. Mass ridicule has not touched him, not even in the age of social networking. There is Shah Rukh Khan, doing cartwheels in yet another stadium, apologising for disgraceful behaviour on grounds of being a good parent. There is the king of good times Vijay Mallya, demanding sacrifices from his legions of unpaid middle- class employees while living a Monte Carlo life. And there are countless corporate captains and retired bureaucrats, who are as much at ease now at special CBI judge hearings as they are at perfumed soirees.
This age of two- minute messiahs and nanosecond nonentities is a natural conse- quence of a new relationship Indians have with fame. They see it as something they can achieve easily, whether it is on the back of a porn career in the US or a charge of molestation. Taint is transferable and easy to monetise. It used to be America that was the capital of second acts. Now India is the land where erasure is immediate. So Rahul Gandhi apologises for leading his party down the garden path in Uttar Pradesh and the country’s oldest party sanctions a foreign holiday for him to recuperate from the unusual strain of working full days. Kanimozhi is released from Tihar Jail and her doting father organises festivities fit for a princess. Suresh Kalmadi reigns quietly in Pune, attending to a full social calendar that spans stadium inaugurations and book releases, the CWG cases a distant memory.
As a naturally timid nation, led by a diffident prime minister, could it be that we have a sneaky admiration for people who are so aggressive about marketing themselves? Do we yearn for a Narendra Modi who refuses to either apologise for or examine his role in the Gujarat riots, and thinks we should be in awe of him because he is merely doing what the people of the state voted him to do— govern? Do we deserve a Pratibha Patil who travels the world with family at our expense because we are supposed to be grateful for the symbolism of a woman president? Perhaps, it is because as a nation our experience with success has been too short and sporadic. We need greater intimacy with power to appreciate its limits.
AS A NATURALLY TIMID NATION, LED BY A DIFFIDENT PRIME MINISTER, COULD IT BE THAT WE HAVE A SNEAKY ADMIRATION FOR PEOPLE WHO ARE SO AGGRESSIVE ABOUT MARKETING THEMSELVES?