Saved by the little idea

There are few who could fail to have been moved over the last few days by the bravery of those who made the journey between Srinagar and Muzaffarabad on April 7. It seems as if in one stroke the Kashmiris had reminded the world and particularly hardliners on either side of the border of the strength of basic human emotion in facing up to bullets and threats. A new road has been paved, a journey has been undertaken. The border has been crossed. Suddenly the prosaic bus is pregnant with meaning.

But significant though the bus links may be for Indo-Pak relations, there is another reason why the bus is perhaps a fitting symbol for our times. It is because of the death, if one may call it that, of the big idea.

Last week witnessed the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Dandi March. The historic march which commenced at Sabarmati Ashram and ended with Gandhi scooping a fistful of salt from the sea changed the course of history and set us firmly on the road to freedom. By rights we should have been hailing the event all over the country, festooning our public buildings, marching in the streets, giving thanks to the brave men and women, some of who are still with us, who worked and sacrificed for our liberty.

In actual fact most of the country connected with the anniversary only through the media.

And much of the coverage was about how the Congress and Sonia had hijacked the re-enactment of the March — with the BJP even using the occasion to revive its opposition to the videshi power centre — than about the historic moment itself. What explains our lukewarm attitude? Indians are often berated for disregarding history but is there more to it?

Last week the BBC while interviewing Peter Smith, archbishop of Cardiff, on the legacy of the recently deceased Pope harped predictably on the late pontiff’s controversial views on abortion and contraception. The archbishop struggled in vain to make a point: that the Pope was holding up a standard; it did not mean that people would necessarily achieve it.

What about AIDS, the interviewer asked and the trauma of multiple deliveries for young women? Wouldn’t the Pope’s unrelenting stance against artificial means of birth control have unhappy repercussions for both? And again the archbishop had to reiterate that it was the Pope’s job to set the bar high.

It seems, if true, a hard argument to push in our current times. Not because we have lost or dispensed with our need for lofty goals but for other reasons, one of which is our need to examine the cost of these goals at every step. To put it another way, imagine Gandhi giving a call today for a march against subjugation. Would there have been a crowd following him? There probably would. One can assume that with greater publicity even larger crowds would have answered his call.

But there would have also been critical comments by his rivals on TV. There would have been doubts expressed in newspapers about security or arrangements for food and accommodation for the participants. There would have been reports on people falling ill in the heat. There would have been concern over mounds of litter being scattered along the way. A man of Gandhi’s integrity, one imagines, would soar above such lesser preoccupations. And yet, it is likely, one suspects, that the grand sweep of his gesture might have been somewhat diminished by the same.

Which is why the focus on the common man and the vehicle that will realise small, individual aspirations seems to have a greater chance of succeeding in our times where more dramatic gestures have failed.