Hope Lives

Before 26th Nov, the biggest congregations in Mumbai happened at Mumbai CST and Churchgate railway stations during peak hours. A million anonymous faces jostled with each other, garnered inches, all with the common purpose of getting that prize foothold in a suburban local. Strangers and even more strangers poured in and out of these stations like a giant assembly line. In between, strange circuits sparked conversations, cricket scores, what’s the time now, can you shift a bit, is this the Borivali Fast or the Andheri slow and so on. Such transactional pieces of conversation defined the crowded space that we all shared. Elsewhere, stock prices, prices of vegetables on the street, saale ****ve baaju hat na in traffic or a more paternal baap ka rasta hai kya. This is our lingo, defined by ourselves either as the ones who launched these or the ones who received these. This common code defined the language of transaction, transaction of every kind in Mumbai. Yes there were the show of emotions in the light of the train blasts, genuine, but these were ephemeral. It was almost like everyone was following an unwritten job description. Next day, Mumbai was back at work or at play, whatever. Some called it the spirit of Mumbai, I call it the compulsion of Mumbai.
All until 26th Nov.I was at the Gateway of India yesterday, again part of an anonymous crowd of tens of thousands, one which had a million voices but only one soul. Everyone had their pet peeve on placards and posters, the ones who didn’t had Vande Mataram on their lips. The combined energy of the polity, the mind of the mass, people’s movement whatever you call it, it was all on display. Most in that crowd would have only read about the freedom struggle but it felt like our genes which carry these memories and even more had woken up and played history back through us. There was no fixed purpose, at the same time there was no careless tomfoolery. There were a million islands of groups, chants, candlelights, abuses, national anthems and songs. You could get into any group, blend, unblend and then join another one. The new age mind of Mumbai was on display with some holding up laptops on slideshow mode and most playing around with words smartly to make their point. It was impossible not to be caught up in the frenzy and if anybody managed not to, he or she didn’t deserve to be there. For me what stood out was a Muslim family, aged folks, who joined in with equal fervor if not more. I feared for their well being considering how most Indians equate Pakistan and Indian muslims. But the crowd behaved, enraged but civil. It was mass purgation and am sure the Gods up there heard the chants that resonated out of Mumbai
It needs to be said that points of congregation of the young have been rock concerts, pubs and such hangouts, college festivals and many such trivial pursuits as some might call it. The cynics among us have always looked down upon this set and said they would never quite understand what national pride is all about. This event proves them wrong. Maybe the young lot still doesn’t quite get it fully, maybe they’re naïve in asking for an attack on Pakistan but they are not just seeking titillation through cheap pursuits. Their soul has been stirred and it showed in every face that I saw yesterday. Remember, it was a young, very young Bhagat Singh that emerged and showed the British yet another formidable violent side to Indians. I don’t expect anything of the same legendary proportion from this group but what I do know is that this young collective, and its 60% of the country, can surely make things happen, given a direction.
This is where the professionals in our society, lawyers, bureaucrats, artists, writers, thinkers need to tap into this energy. Make this youth brigade the engine of change. Give this avalanche direction, and the change that we all seek will be here sooner than later. Hope lives.
Jai Hind!