To the hustings

Well, elections come and elections go, but politicians and bureaucrats go on forever. Fortunately, the elections were over in one single day, here in my state of Tamil Nadu. That was on the 23rd of April, 2026. The loudspeakers, the shouting—individual and collective—have gone quiet, and the candidates wait with bated breath for the mandate. Parliamentary democracy exhibits its finest colours and every party claims victory, in one form or the other.

In the run-up to the elections this year, even popular newspapers made a whack. I was surprised to see four or six or eight, or more pages, in reputed newspapers, carrying details of the criminal charges pending against the prospective candidates from this or that or the other party. Again, parliamentary democracy at it’s finest for, forgive me if I am wrong, not a single soon to-be politician was not tainted. Reasons were attributed for this malaise—insufficient evidence to press charges, case overturned by this court or that, false accusations by this person/those persons, gossip, slander, turn-coatism, et al, everything on display except fair-play. It is as if there are no honest, down-to-earth, stand-by-what-I-say, citizens in this state, or even country. Woe is me!!! I’m not too unhappy about this, for when I go to sell my bi-monthly stack of newspapers, I am guaranteed ten or fifteen rupees, for free.

Take, for example, the bold, brash, brutally dishonest slogans of the big-wigs. Many years ago, the Government at the Centre came up with: “Sabke Saath, sabke Vikas, sabke Viswas, whatever that formula means. I take it that “Sabke Saath” means “All together”, or “Everyone included”. Not so, dear Reader. What did the Centre do thereafter? They revoked some Articles of the Constitution, completely annihilating the meagre voice of the beleaguered ANGLO-INDIAN COMMUNITY with one stroke. Anglo-Indians are considered living relics of the Raj, and anything that even conjures up that era in history, has to be given short shrift. From the year 1947 to the year 2019, the community was represented in the Upper House, but that is no longer the case, alas! Many states played ”follow the leader” and even regional voices were silenced.

Cry, cry, the beloved country. And what about Governors of States, or Collectors of districts? Are they not anachronistic? Or do they only serve and wait, for orders from above?

Closer home, my home state of Tamil Nadu, followed the injunction from the Centre and did away with the lone MLA representing the community in the Legislative Assembly. No thought was given to the fact that Tamil Nadu is home to the most Anglo-Indians in the country. Our school system, under the Anglo-Indian Board, was the pride of the state, boasting over 42 independent schools throughout the state. Chief Ministers of Tamil Nadu have studied in such schools. In fact, two of the oldest English-medium schools in the country, one in Chennai and the other in Trichy, have a combined history that is nearing 600 years. Imagine that, and then remember from what heights We have fallen. And not one soul, not even one, to say: “I’m sorry”.

Five years ago, on the 7th of May, 2021, The Hindu newspaper published a letter from me to the incoming Chief Minister, Thiru M K Stalin. I gave him a brief account of the history of my community, especially in Tamil Nadu, and ended with a plea for the re-establishment of the lone nominated seat (for Anglo-Indians) in the State assembly. I didn’t get a reply from him then. I still haven’t heard from him; yet; because to lose hope is to lose life itself. But what attracted me was one of his Party slogans.

It screamed—to me, at least—“Everything for everyone”. What about me, dear Sir? More than insignificant me, what about my community, that is still languishing? Or are these just “polite, meaningless words”, as my favourite poet once wrote. He also cautioned: “ Caught in that sensual music, all neglect/Monuments of unaging intellect”. I’m just asking a simple question, dear Sir; nothing more, nothing less. But the question has to be asked: between it and an answer is the looming, all-forgetting void.

I turned back time and the pages to find solace in the writings of Charles Dickens. I went, specifically, to The Pickwick Papers. It was an amusing, sensible read, but the gruesome face of politics shone through, darkly. The Eatanswill by-election, contested principally by two parties, is less about policy and more about hoodwinking the electorate. Bogus voting, bribery, and blatant, no-holds-barred vilification of the opposing candidates, is the order of the day. Brass bands, banners and bravado are used intermittently to cajole the voters, and nobody cares a damn that no one is listening or is interested. At the end of it all, Pickwick advises his observer friends to shout with the loudest mob. By way of extreme caution, he tells his friends that if both parties seem to have equal strength, it is best to side with the more vociferous of the two!

What have we degenerated to, dear Reader? It’s been 175 years since Mr Pickwick predicted the ultimate outcome of politics: chaos and confusion, obfuscation and obscurantism. Are we always to remain passive spectators to the mayhem around us? All the time?

“That is Heaven’s part” is the answer given by the poet. We cannot ask a counter-question: “Was it meaningless ‘death’ (read my word-substitute, which makes better sense—‘sh*t’ after all”? I’ll leave you with that sobering thought, my dears.

Until next week.