The news papers carried this morning a fervent appeal by the newly
appointed Chief Election Commissioner urging the Bihari youth to vote
in great numbers. The item evoked my interest so I wanted to know
more. I am normally done with four newspapers in close to two minutes.
If my reading glasses are at hand well and good, if they are not, I
make the newspaper adjust to my myopia. But I don’t miss very much.
Glasses or no glasses, I manage to get the flavor and I thank God for
giving me that day, my daily fix of sleaze and scandal, high-minded
rhetoric and promises galore, privileged intimation of forthcoming
political defections or new alliances in the making. Sometimes I find
my name figuring in there. Seasonally, for the last couple of years
the odds of my being appointed to some post or the other has been
discussed. Then I reach out for my glasses. I like to be enlightened
on these matters. Otherwise two minutes is all that I can spare. But
today I made an exception. For a public cause, I called to the aid of
my failing eyesight my pair of reading glasses.
Why have the youth of Bihar voluntarily renounced their right to vote?
By not exercising their right to vote are they making a subtle
political statement? And thinking of the their alienation and
withdrawal the martyr’s memorial, just a few hundred meters away from
where I live, floated before my mind’s eye! The statues of the young
students frozen in their stance –marching into a hail of bullets yet
holding the tricolor aloft- cast derision on death and mock the might
of the empire over which the sun never set. They paid for with their
lives to secure for us our independence and the right to vote. Would
they consider sitting somewhere in the heaven, wearing their halo of
martyrdom around them, their sacrifice worth it? Was the hard fought
right to self-determination worth the price after all?
I wondered if this abstention is due to the fact there is an absence
of worthwhile opportunities for raising their political awareness
before they acquire the right to vote. The traditional modes of
participation like student union elections are largely nonexistent.
Student politics has always mirrored the concerns and preoccupation of
national politics and is a report of what is happening in the broader
society. For the youth it is a period of apprenticeship in the culture
of parliamentary democracy, a recruiting ground for political cadres,
and it incubates the future political leadership. The JP movement of
1975 is a case in point. One may not agree with either the agenda, or
the philosophy behind the “Total revolution” but who can deny the
reality of the ‘radical youth’ with their unabashed enthusiasm and
utopianism or the momentousness of the occasion?
Or is it because the nature of politics today offers no scope for
romantic idealism to the youth? What is there for them to be
passionate about? There are no radically different visions of society
on offer-visions which can captivate their imagination or inspire
hope. All the parties dish out the same trite agenda whose similarity
and repetitiveness emit a stale odour which you can catch from miles
away. Nor for that matter the farcical change of the hearts and minds
which compels large scale migration of members from one political club
to the other holds their interest. The youth know they would be better
occupied following the fortunes of their favourite sports stars –their
movement from Milan AC to Real Madrid or from Kolkata Knight Riders to
Chennai Super kings.
Arthur Miller had once observed that our political life, thanks to
24/7 TV is now “profoundly governed by the modes of theatre, from
tragedy to vaudeville to farce.” The television is both a powerful
ally and a useful tool through which the politicians try to project
themselves as characters that they are not. In the live telecast of
the proceedings of the houses representatives appear to have very few
stakes in what goes on in the house. At their most radical, they can
only throw a couple of chairs taking care not to cause hurt to their
assumed adversaries or get hurt themselves. Even as a spectacle it
comes out a loser in terms of audience preference for programmes like
WWF.
But even if the youth somehow overcome their aversion there are not
very many of them left to vote. A very significant section of them has
been forced to become absentee voters out of dire necessity. They have
joined the exodus to Delhi, to Poona, to Bangalore or wherever they
see opportunity for decent education. And those not endowed with
wealth or work are similarly forced to migrate in search of
livelihood.
I realized that I had only questions, no answers, only hypotheses and
speculations no hard theories. Obviously, I could not get under the
skin of the young generation, I could not think like them. But I tried
to make an effort of imagination, a nimble leap across the years. What
would I be doing, say, if I were eighteen today? Would I listen to the
elderly rubbish and make a beeline to the nearest voting booth? In the
absence of ideology and idealism, faced to choose between hedonism and
nihilism where would I be standing. I am ashamed to admit that I found
myself merging into the character of that deeply connected youth in
that interesting commercial, in spiritual communion with his mobile,
knocking down kids and flower vases, ready to fall off malls. In that
state of supreme connect, who would care for the vote
The views expressed by the author are personal.
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