Sixteen years is a long time for one to unlearn. When I look back at 1990, I wish I had been a little more practical, more aware of the inevitability of change. Nevertheless, what would you expect of a man intent on looking at the years ahead in mathematical equations? I had decided to get married. Marriage at the time of prohibitory orders? A marriage devoid of the mandatory hoopla of sundry relatives and friends dancing down the road, or a blaring band ready to make the world dance to their tune? But it was the time of Mandal and Masjid — a madness that had gripped the entire country, especially the North. But did I care?
Patience, I told my friends, is a bad word that breeds inaction. Determined as I was, two friends dared to accompany my small family along the 130-odd km journey to Karnal in Haryana. The family pandit’s words too rang inside me like the voice of God: the Big Day had to be either September 28 or late next year. My friends later said that they had agreed more out of a sense of thrill at the possibility of watching crowds go berserk than anything else.
We met ‘them’ on the Delhi border — a motley crowd carrying wooden stumps and iron rods denying passage to vehicles on the National Highway. Many cars were forced to return. When our turn came, my friend went up to an agitator and tried to reason out. No way, he said bluntly. Then one of my sisters showed them her identity card. She was a Delhi University student. Surprisingly, the crowd parted. What did she show them? “A blood donation card. I donated blood for the students injured in the police action during the anti-Mandal agitation,” my sister told us.
The way ahead was marked by recently burnt buses, tyres, rocks — and a total absence of police. Finally, we reached Karnal and I got married without any pomp or ceremony. Today, as the reservation row hots up with fresh quota promises and the BJP yatras seek to evoke the same sentiment that prevailed 16 years ago, there’s relief on only one count: there has been no organised caste or communal flare-up — yet. For me, like any other person, these years have slipped by: my family has expanded and a greying me is now learning a new meaning of ‘patience’. Calculations aside, I wish the same were applicable for our ministers and opposition leaders.
{{/usCountry}}The way ahead was marked by recently burnt buses, tyres, rocks — and a total absence of police. Finally, we reached Karnal and I got married without any pomp or ceremony. Today, as the reservation row hots up with fresh quota promises and the BJP yatras seek to evoke the same sentiment that prevailed 16 years ago, there’s relief on only one count: there has been no organised caste or communal flare-up — yet. For me, like any other person, these years have slipped by: my family has expanded and a greying me is now learning a new meaning of ‘patience’. Calculations aside, I wish the same were applicable for our ministers and opposition leaders.
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