Candlelight Wallahs

[Prudent]

Sugata Srinivasaraju In the five days I was in Mumbai last week, I was invited to as many as six candlelight vigils at the Gateway of India near the Taj Colaba, one of the most discussed sites of the terror attack. The candlelight vigils promised interesting sideshows too like the one detailed in this mailer that reached me: "On Wednesday please gather at the Gateway of India at 6 pm sharp in the evening. Everyone must get a passport photo (if not passport any other will also do). At 5.57pm, after singing the national anthem, we will burn the photo in a symbolic act of self-immolation to show the terrorists and the vermin politicians that we are ready to die for south Mumbai. Do not forget to bring a box of Ship matches. Kindly pass on this urgent message to friends and family too. Please invite media persons whoever knows any." The tone of all the invites I received was more or less similar. There was anger and urgency in them, but they sprang out of a deep personal insecurity than out of an enveloping collective sorrow. The purpose of the vigils, as you would notice in the mailer quoted above, was narrowly defined. The vigilante seemed to exclude more than include. South Mumbai was their world and in South Mumbai, Taj was what mattered most. The rest of the places that had seen terror on 26/11 and also earlier wore a halo of anonymity. I wondered why the Chattrapathi Shivaji Terminus never became the venue of a candlelight vigil. Even amidst the seeming surge of emotion built around the Gateway of India, there was also an unfailing practical sense that ensured media presence. I noticed a kind of self-indulgence and romance at these candlelight vigils. I recognise their significance when sparingly employed in the sunset hour, but if summoned often I wonder if they really do anything other than create pretty silhouettes? I also wonder if these vigils are an easy catharsis for the middle class that dreads any greater commitment. There appeared to be such competition to hold candlelight vigils at the Gateway that people ridiculously held candles to a bright noon sun too. In today's urban India, candlelight vigils have come to replace human chains that people built as a form of protest a generation ago. If you think I am unfairly attacking an innocuous display of emotion, let me clarify that I am not attacking anybody's right to peaceful protest, but am only holding a mirror to a mindset that has very often failed us as a people. The candlelight protests are of the feel good variety, where the crease of your shirt does not get crumpled or the police lathi does not break your bone. They are not even a watered down version of the Satyagraha or the civil disobedience movements. This kind of protest is where you herd together for a further round of chitchat. These protests generate flimsiest of attention spans, both in the vigilante and the viewer. They usually last as long as the TV channels are beaming the idyllic glow and the candles meltdown. There is no follow up, no continuity, only a one-time downloading of guilt. Since nobody thinks through these protests or develops it as part of a larger strategy, the target of these protests are also often misplaced. The Mumbai candlelight vigils more than focusing on terror or expressing solidarity with the victims put out a very negative message by targeting politicians. They wanted all of them to be thrown into the sea! This so called educated class, which wrote abuse against politicians on the placards they carried were not even aware of the political system that governed them. They did not seem to care for the very political system that encouraged them to protest and speak out. They wanted to assassinate a system that would never stifle their emotions. They did not work on a constructive message to reform it and build greater accountability, but in their casual rage propagated an authoritarian rule. --- http://outlookindia.com/full.asp?fodname=20081210&fname=sugata&sid=1&pn=1