OF CATTLE CLASS & HOLY COWS

For all those Congresswallahs who are seething with rage at Shashi Tharoor’s uncharitable comments about the High Command, a reading of his book From Midnight to Millennium is highly recommended. He has criticized, the Holiest of Holy cows in the Congress. The Godmother herself, Indira Gandhi. This is Tharoor on the original Mrs. G.

"Had Indira’s Parsi husband been a Toddywalla (liquor trader) rather than so conveniently a Gandhi, I sometime wonder, might India’s political history have been different?" Heresy, anyone?

This post is not an attempt to justify or decry Tharoor for what he did. Just an attempt to find humour where it scarcely exists. In our politics.

In the whole debate on cattle class and holy cows, everyone seems to have missed out on the obvious. In the end, it’s not Shashi Tharoor who’s emerged a loser. But it’s the Great Indian Chattering Class. They’ve been shown for what they are. Uptight, humourless twits who can’t take a bit of self-depreciation.

In this country we tend to take everything seriously. And you don’t need a Shashi Tharoor to point out the holy cows in our life. From academics to cricket to even our politics. Irreverence is not something that comes naturally to us. We’d much rather worship than question. In our politics, finding an irreverent politician with a sense of humour is like finding a needle in a haystack. Any Parliament reporter will tell you that. Why do you think Lalu is such a media favourite, despite his million failings?

Maybe Tharoor should drive down to 14, Akbar Road to meet his fellow Stephanian Mani Shankar Aiyar. Now, there are a lot of people who hate Mani’s cocky arrogance, but you can’t grudge the man’s wit. Sample this. “Since Sitaram Kesri is all of 31 years younger than the Congress party itself, he has everything it takes to rejuvenate the party.”

But it’s his pet-hate, the BJP, which brings out the secular fundamentalist in Mani. This one’s about Enron and the BJP. “The mystique of unctuous self-righteousness that the BJP assiduously cultivated has been ripped open. They said they would throw Enron into the Arabian Sea. Now they are, metaphorically, in bed with Rebecca Mark.”

But, here’s a disclaimer for Mr. Tharoor. For all his Aiyarisms, Mani will also tell you how utterly boring it is to be an out of work politician in Delhi. Lesson one in politics: never upset the high command.

Each political party has its own set of Holy cows. For the Congress it’s the Gandhi parivar. For the BJP, it’s the Sangh parivar. For the Commies it’s Marx and his parivar. Anyone who dares to question these is cast out as a traitor. It’s a testimony to just how rigid our politics and especially our political parties have become. Did someone say internal democracy?

Our netas need a class in political humour from the Brits and the Americans. Obama can call Sarah Palin a pig who wears lipstick and yet the world doesn’t come crashing down. David Cameron calls Gordon Brown a complete phoney, and there’s still as much water flowing in the Thames. Only in India are politicians revered to the point of puking.

It’s only fitting to sign off with the most irrepressible of British politicians, Winston Churchill. This is a conversation that happened between him and Lady Astor in the British Parliament. After a bout of intense arguments over the war and his government’s handling of it, Lady Astor signed off by saying “Frankly Winston, if you were my husband, I’d mix poison in your morning tea.” To which the razor-sharp Churchill replies “Frankly, Nancy, if you were my wife, I’d drink it.” Imagine Jairam Ramesh saying that to Sushma Swaraj? Can it ever happen in uptight, puritanical India? Your guess is as good as mine.