Clutching secret hopes in thuggee haven

IT TOOK A WHILE to get Deb’s meaning: “Our MPs’ll be all camaraderie now.”

Rohit guffawed: “Hah! They’re at each other’s throats half the time.”

“Ah,” said Deb, “don’t they always unite to vote perks and pay hikes for themselves? But now the gangs’ll be as thick as thieves.”

“Over what?” Rohit demanded.

Deb spoke softly: “Over an ‘MPs Immunity Bill’.”

“Huh?” Rohit guffawed again. “Who’ll table this Bill?”

“It’ll slither in,” said Deb, “as a Private Member’s Bill.”

Rohit smirked: “Something you just invented?”

“No invention needed here,” said Deb. “Tehelka exposed the BJP Defence kickback, and the ‘cash-for-query’ scams. And now we know BJP MPs are also into human trafficking, and desi-Viagrascapades. Thrice bit’s six shy. And so a Private Member’s Bill on ‘MP Parivar’s Right to Secret Activities, and Immunity from Prosecution for Thuggery’. The BJP’ll wheedle all MPs into voting on it, so we never get to know what else those thugs’re into.

“Why’d all parties support it?” Rohit sneered, “The Left?”

“Oh, the Left’ll rant its holy cant outside Parliament,” said Deb. “But once the other thugs pledge support, the Left’ll want the Bill through double quick. A bonanza for the ruling CPI-M in Bengal: the Act’d cover up all acts to cling to power for three full decades: ever-concealed rackets; everlasting rule.”

Anjum had been fidgety, and prodding only produced hypothetical questions: “Can we dub our country a democracy? Wouldn’t thuggocracy be more accurate?”

“To mean ‘rule by thugs’?” Deb smiled. “Well, India WAS thuggee haven, remember? Only, today’s thugs buy votes, not the silk bandana, and loot brazenly. They’ve turned the tables so a thug’s certificate now proves an honest citizen’s bona fides. And no citizen protests such gross insult. Why d’you think dacoits quit the Chambal ravines even though police snoozed?”

Rohit smelt an innuendo: “Suggesting the dacoits all became MPs? You’ll be hauled up for sedition, y’know.”

“Oh no,” Deb said, “give ’em their due: those baghis believe in loot maar; most wouldn’t stoop to cash for questions. But the MPs’ve shown ’em the way, the truth, and life---dakoo ban gaya gentulmun.”

“But some dakoos did become MPs,” Anjum interrupted. “Was the fashion for dacoit leaders to surrender, and then plant election candidates. Some made it as MLAs. Those that didn’t, funded scarecrows, turned proxy MLAs. A few, like Veerappan, paid ministers to ensure they’d never be snared; only, the circus over nabbing ’em would go on---just as the thuggees paid Rajahs and Maharajahs.”

“But the circus did end;” said Rohit, “Veerappan did get shot.”

“After several decades, yes,” said Deb, “but do we know who by, and how? That’s under wraps. As for sedition: a third of Lok Sabha seats been taken over by thugs---murder, rape, kidnap-for-ransom---you name it. The next Lok Sabha election’ll see criminals capture at least half the seats. Yet another election, and thugs’ll bag the entire Lok Sabha.

“The lid blowing off minor rackets was a bit of a nuisance, of course---just as the occasional discovery of disembowelled corpses used to be for the thuggees. The BJP, then at the Centre, went out to destroy Tehelka because it bust the Defence kickback, remember? Tarun Tejpal and his man were hounded and tortured. Now the Thuggery Act’ll gag exposure of all swindles to come.”

“But can we brand those MPs ‘criminals’ yet?” Rohit wondered aloud. “They haven’t been convicted, have they?”

“And will never be,” retorted Anjum. “Their lawyers’ll arrange procedural delays, pay investigating officers for ‘procedural lapses’---to either keep courts delay-bound, or have the cases screwed for ‘procedural errors’ by prosecution.

“True,” Deb added. “How d’you think a Dhanbad coal mafia don loafed free despite his score of 36 murders? His lawyers INSPIRED ‘procedural lapses’ by police officers recording the crime. They then briefed paid judges about those. Then, at each trial, presto---the don’s lawyer picked a ‘procedural error’; the judge pulled up the ‘tutored’ officer; he bleated the rehearsed apology---and that zipped up the case. Finally, a rival don’s bullet ended the lawyers’ game. Get how our thug MPs sit tight in the Lok Sabha?”

“Thug-lawyer symbiosis,” said Anjum. “India has a million lawyers. Only 100,000 of ’em are advocates; 500,000 ‘badvocates’, and the rest, ‘noughtvocates’. If it weren’t for thugs, how’d lawyers make a living?”

“My god!” said Rohit. “But haven’t citizens a way out of this thuggery?”

“Sure,” said Anjum, “but who bells the cat? Honest citizens outnumber thugs ten thousand to one. But don’t four armed goons get away with looting a trainload of passengers?”

“Or perhaps there is no way,” said Deb calmly. “We act out our destinies. Pandit Nehru dreamt of India’s tryst with destiny. He didn’t foresee that destiny’d only drive India’s millions into the talons of a horde of predator-parasites---our politicians.

“You can kill predators, such as snakes and hyenas. You can kill parasites, like lice and bed-bugs. But the predator-parasite is far more dangerous. They’re within us. They are us. Aren’t our feudal customs, such as dowry, parasitical? Isn’t the Hindu groom’s father a predator-parasite? Aren’t our Brahmins a parasite breed?

“We never band together to exterminate the predator-parasite. Truth is, today’s victim hopes to turn predator tomorrow. Indians’ll kill a million girl fetuses a year because of dowry, but will NOT chuck dowry---because every Indian hopes to turn predator-parasite once he gets a boy. We say we’ll each go to a teerth or haj in our lifetime. We never say we’ll do our duty by India: we’ll each lynch at least one politician in our lifetime. What secret hopes do we clutch?”