Animal Farm 2.0

In the end, the cows took complete control.

Unbelievable, right? Who would have expected those docile cows to take such complete control? To understand this, we must go to the very beginning.

Not to the cows, they are just a Trojan horse.

But to the two wily foxes and their great alma matter, The Radical School of Segregation.

All the other graduates of the school before the time of the two wily old foxes could not complete the agenda of the school, even though they were good in what they set out to do.

They either had scale or vision, not both.

Also, almost all of them had one central weakness. They were not entirely ruthless.

The order prevailed in the forest for as long as anyone could remember, it was not the best of the times nor ever a worst of the times.

Yes, there were times when a herd of bison went berserk and gored the pigs. Another time a drove of pigs went ahead and poisoned a whole herd of buffaloes. A school of piranhas devoured a shoal of harmless fish. A pack of dogs attacked a flock of pigeons. A troop of monkeys bothered a band of wild horses.

These were sporadic, and most importantly were not organized in a sustained way on a large scale.

The parliament of owls, who were the governing body of the Radical School of Segregation kept a close watch on all these happenings and kept immaculate records. This was an elite school. The elite as in not the sense that only a few could afford it. The elite in the sense that only a few wanted to get into this. The school, over the years, gave rise to an impressive alumnus, many of whom had entered the mechanism of the governance, and even ruled it briefly, in short, and often violent regimes. All of them failed. The elephants, the workhorses, the donkeys, the baboons, the bulls, the pigs, the lions, all of them.

It all changed when two wily foxes enrolled themselves and completed their course almost unnoticed. This was their plan from early on. Take cover behind a broader canvas. They studied magic and oratory with greater interest over other subjects like money and relationships.

A grand old Owl once taught them “When a magician says, “Look here” and holds up his hat, it is his other hand that is doing the trick”

The foxes understood a fundamental principle.

Rule by diversion, not just division.

If you perfect the first, the second can be anything one wants.

The foxes infiltrated the ranks and started to implement their grand vision.

For reasons inexplicable, the foxes decided that the pigs should go. Maybe they did not like the fact that the pigs came to rule in the original Animal Farm.

These two are not some ordinary foxes, to go ahead and declare a war directly on the pigs and boars from day one.

If the pigs are to be the villains, the story needs a victim!

The two foxes traveled the length and the breadth of the jungle, evaluating a suitable masthead, one that would evoke an immediate pity.

The pride of lions was an obvious no.

A school of fish was not too appealing, also their dwelling was too fluid.

A congregation of alligators was rejected for the same reason, even though they did spend a little time on the land.

A colony of bats was a non-starter (they wanted their policies to be upside down not their mastheads).

A pack of dogs was very attractive and almost chosen but for their one deplorable trait, understanding love.

The tired foxes reached a meadow and rested under a tree. Lord Buddha achieved his enlightenment under a Bodhi tree. The records are not clear about the kind of tree that the two foxes took shelter under. (The foxes made sure that no records of their origin or the subsequent growth can ever be traced successfully, they erased all their origins, doctored at will. As a result, years down the line, one got to read what the foxes wanted one to read about them)

It sure was their Bodhi tree moment. For here, they gazed on a herd of cows, grazing with absolute contentment, regurgitating, chewing, standing still at one place for what appeared to be eons, unaware of what is happening around them.

The foxes found what they were looking for.

The cows became the masthead. But you do not just convince the whole forest overnight that the cows are the victims and the pigs are the villain.

You need to build the narrative. All those lessons on magic were put into action.

The philosophy of an organization that sets out to control should not be logical or scientific. It must be simple. And simplicity is what the foxes started working for, in its philosophy. Philosophy is the doctrine, but you also need soldiers to implement a philosophy. Now that the victim and the villain are frozen, the second round of elections began to choose the soldiers.

The most obvious choice of a pack of dogs was rejected for the same reason that they were rejected as a victim. They understand love. Unpardonable.

A troop of monkeys was quickly decided as an obvious choice. The monkeys also resembled humans, of whom a great many stories were available in the mainland adjoining their forest. They were stupid, easy to manipulate, myopic, violent and are kept happy with scraps, sometimes as meager as a banana.

It is nearly 20 years from the day the foxes joined the school to the moment of identifying the main characters of the narrative.

The monkeys never questioned the logic of the first instruction.

“Kill the cows and some calves”

But the cow is supposed to be the masthead, right? The proposed victim!

“It is not the truth that matters, but victory” said the foxes to the troop of monkeys, quoting one Adolf Hitler, a member of a human race very close to the monkeys than to most animals.

It was easy to kill the cows with some calves thrown in. The calves were a problem, as they ran about, what with some of them being students in normal schools like Just Normal University and the likes.

The foxes resigned from the governing council and went on a forest-wide mission to “educate” the masses. They addressed the donkeys, the elephants, the dogs and all the congregations except pigs. The pigs were not aware of this. When some pointed it to them, that it is strange that the pigs are never seen in the rallies or the meetings, the pigs shrugged it away. The pigs thought that probably this has been a mere oversight and they also maintained a simpler stand “we are not there as we are not invited”.

No one knew exactly when a cow started sharing the dais along with foxes.

Just as no one knew exactly when it became a common knowledge that the pigs were absent.

And soon the cow was speaking more than the foxes, who were content in drafting the speeches and coaching the monkeys.

While the foxes took 20 years, waiting patiently and preparing their canvas and narrative, it took them just 12 years to convince the forest that the pigs were the villains.

It surprised the pigs as much as the rest of the forest.

The parliament of owls stood in awe at the Radical School of Segregation while the mediocre council that ruled the forest did not know what hit them.

Just before the election to the new council, the foxes announced a challenge to the council by nominating their own candidates, all of them cows!

Four superannuated cows were slaughtered during the election rallies. The foxes needed to say nothing. Everyone knew it had to be the pigs. It was easy to target the unprepared pigs. The piglets that were students were easier prey.

The Mother Cow lowed and mooed its heart out while the foxes spew venom that put a cobra to shame.

The victory to the foxes was absolute.

The council took charge and started implementing its devious rabid plans one at a time. Confusing the animals with fierce oration and compelling doublespeak.

The two foxes were not in the least worried about their ability to continue unrivaled during the next council election and the next after that and the next after that because the forest only knew that

In the end, the cows took complete control.

The collective noun for foxes is, incidentally, a leash.  

We, The People.....

Picture - Dedication page from We The people, by the inimitable Nani Palkhiwala

The angry moment is behind us. Temporarily.

Facebook posts, whatsapp judgments and sentencing, forwards, tweets and Instagram incensing are over.

This ever so predictable cycle is, in fact, sickening. As sick as the act of rape. The people seem to be doing it on autopilot. The collective reaction is like how a piece of equipment would function when switched on.

Horrible! Atrocious! Unacceptable! Muslim guy? Hindu guy? Upper caste girl? Lower caste girl? Fit the narrative accordingly, chest-beating, hyperbole forwards on social-media, candle vigil, TV debate, I am ashamed to be a man, not all men are like this, you should have done this, not done this, could have done this, must have done that, law and order is in shambles, we need stricter laws, hang the rapists, castrate them, better still – castrate them and then hang them and then shoot them, yada yada yada, court proceeding starts, the case drags on, the bar council refuses to represent the convicts, appeals, sentencing, justice is served, yada yada yada… next rape, start all over again.

Exactly like how the common man vented it out in A Wednesday “Checked if your relatives are safe, exchanged whatsapps, changed channels and saw the news, heaved a sigh of relief thinking it’s not me”.

J.Krishnamurti once said, in his speech on truth, you can’t expect someone to show you the way, the moment you submit to another person as an authority the truth can never be reached.

Same here.

The problem is not the law. The problem is not whether the punishment is severe enough. (this is a stupid line of argument too as most who commit the crime committed it knowing the punishment or its magnitude, but they still commit it hoping that they would not get caught)

(or knowing they will not get caught, which is worse; or confident that will get out even if caught, which is the nadir of the corrupt system)

The problem is us.

As a nation and as a society we have never treated women at par. They were always the second best, the unwanted, a burden, the ones preached upon, the ones for whom no one stood up at the right time, if anyone stood for them at all, the most judged, the ones on whom the impossible had often been demanded.

From the earliest memory, they are ill-treated and mistreated. The women of this land grow up in utter confusion. She never knows what is right, what is proper, why there are two rules, what did they just do wrong, why this was ok yesterday but not today and no idea what it would be tomorrow.

If she has a male sibling, then she wonders why two sets of rules right from her childhood. How often is she made to hear “behave like a girl”.

What the fuck is that?

What is it supposed to mean?

Why is it all right for a boy to lay sprawled in front of the TV in his underwear and pick his nose but a girl must sit with her legs together? Are decency and decorum only to be practiced by a woman?

What does she see while growing up? Mother slogging in the kitchen, being subjected to sarcasm and jibes by the menfolk, a mother whose opinion is never sought, a mother who is often yelled at, who is told to show respect even to those who outright insult her. How is it seen all right for the man to come in by 7 pm, expect to be served a coffee or tea, sit in front of the TV, expect food on the table, make disparaging comments about the quality of the food, not offer any help in the kitchen, be rude and expect to be respected?

Guess what?

He gets that respect.

Who is watching this entire scene being played out day in and day out? The sons and the daughters. And then we wonder why the boys grow up to be a monster with scant disregard towards women.

We demonstrated, continue to demonstrate and will, in all probability, do the same in the years to come that women are a lesser breed.  That in the order of hierarchy they sit just about pieces of furniture in the house.

Patri-fuckin-archy!!!!!!!!

The men take the decisions, the men’s word is final, please ask dad, grandpa should say yes, why don’t we ask the uncle, let’s ask the next door uncle…..

What about the vicious family gossip? How often are men targeted? And how easily are the women painted? (Alas, also by other women, a paradox that could never be explained.) Isn’t a girl exposed to observe the hypocrisy that is practiced and demonstrated by the family members while dealing with the two-gender?

And what else is she subjected to?

Every single male harasses her. Openly.

Way back in 1987, I was told by the sister of my roommate, that she was traveling every day from Dalmiapuram to Trichy by bus, to college and she always carried a safety pin with her. Numb with the humiliation that she was subjected to each day, she had grown resigned and told me with a sad smile “I do have a safety pin, but this can prevent me from only one direction, I am still exposed and vulnerable from three sides”

Shudder.

In the same year, a family friend had to move his family from Bangalore to Trichy and his daughter, then a mere 7-year-old told me that men (not boys but men) whistled at her when she went to school!

Has anything changed between 1987 and 2019?

Yes, it has gone worse.

This is the basic problem, we all sit and expect something will change while we are the culprits.

Each one of us.

We sow the seeds at home and then we are astounded when we see such behavior outside.

A minister made a remark in the recent Hyderabad case (the trigger for this blog) that an educated woman that she was, she must have called 100, instead of her sister, and she would have been saved.

Mr. Minister – with all due respect to you, go fuck yourself.

You have no idea what the reality is out there. You are the privileged, a man to start with, a minister, no less, and in all probability, your brain is in your ass. Do you know what happened when the sister went to the police station? I know how women are treated by the police. My own daughter had been called a slut by a police constable in Bangalore? All because she was outside of her home at 10.30 in the night. (I had originally written it as 2 in the morning, but my daughter corrected me to underline the fact that it was “what would be the evening in certain European cities”)

Which section of the constitution tells us that a person of a particular gender should not stay out between such and such hour?

Mr. Minister – do you know what fear is? Do you know what it is to walk a tightrope all your life? Do you know, that India is one of the few countries where a policeman approaching you makes you feel unsafe?

A boy I know was mugged last week just outside his home. Now he takes UBER home every day, where only till last week, till that incident, he was happily walking back home, getting his bit of regular exercise thrown in as a part of his routine. Now he is scared when there are people ahead of him, behind him. He jumps when there is a knock on the door. In all probability, this was a one-off incident and he would soon get back to his normal lifestyle.

But he knows the meaning of the word fear now.

Now imagine walking a tightrope all your life?

This is the life we have given to all our women. They are constantly required to be on the alert. Always judged. Easily. They will one day slander the family name. How is it fair?

Any male who is interacting with a woman finds a way to touch her. Be it the constable, the priest, the bus conductor, the school teacher, the guy standing next to her on a means of public transport, the perverts within the family, you politicians. Every single one. All for what? Some instant gratification by the briefest of the contact? What has one achieved by doing that?

What do we do as a parent when the daughter tells us about a situation that is difficult to pinpoint but sounds wrong? When the other person is a close family or a “respectable” elder? Do not we gloss it over? Ask the girl not to exaggerate and be “careful” next time around.

Is there one profession that treats women with respect? Who gives a gynecologist permission to take a moral high ground and lecture the women when the women approach her/him for medical advice?

Talking about doctors, let me take you back to the most horrendous case (this adjective is short-lived, as subsequent cases compete strongly in this category) of Aruna Shanbaug. The doctor, here in all good intentions, did not report the sexual violation.

But his “good intention” stemmed from our social stigma associated with it. She was engaged and was about to be married.

The result – Aruna never came out of her vegetable stage until her death and the perpetrator of the crime, Walmiki, was left scot-free (almost – as he was charged only for assault and robbery), married, begot children and was working as a watchman as per the last confirmed report. 

Irony just died here.

A lot has been said about the influence of films. (internet, mobile phones, and porn sites were the other mention). I shall not accept the excuse that films are the reason. Am not in the least supporting films like Kabir Singh / Arjun Reddy/ Aditya Varma. They are trash and they must be trashed. The sick society makes it a success. But blaming violence on women, on films is certainly hyperbole.

Or an easy way out.

We will not concede that society is rotten and that we have been systemically and systematically destroying the dignity of women.

Let us blame literature and art instead.

Did rape stop after Raveena Tandon and Sanjay Kapoor hanged the rapist with their own hands in Jaago or after Sri Devi shot and killed the psychopath in MOM? Have the politicians reformed after Manoj Bajpai killed Sayaji Shinde in Shool? And did college going girls or bored housewives (nay homemakers) plot to trap a man and rape him after SRK flashed his abs in Om Shanthi Om (the filmmaker Farah Khan had said after the film was released “I wanted a man to be doing a pole dance and douse him with water, am tired of women being subjected to this all the time”. Her way of getting back to the society probably)

We are trying to fix a sinking Titanic with a handful of band-aids. This will not work.

Please build the next ship with care.

We have been practicing and encouraging acts that demean women.

We use naked women to sell shampoo and cars. Condoms and condominiums. Adhesive and incense sticks.

And we are all ok with that.

Our sense of humor is making fun of women in marriage.

A bold woman is a woman of questionable character in our world. In fact, even the term bold woman is wrong. She must be a normal woman.

We quote scriptures to drive the point that

A woman’s place is in the kitchen

That she can be a queen to the country but still a wife at home to her husband.

Housewife is all right but not a house husband. We have euphemized the former to a homemaker.

While we travel abroad, we often wonder at the discipline of the drivers waiting at a junction, while the signal shows red, at 2300 hours, with roads deserted in all directions. (in fact, we tell our foreign escort “why don’t you go? The roads are empty”. They look at us with utter disbelief. They simply tell you that it is not done)

This is the level to which we need to travel. And it is foolish to expect that such a transformation shall happen quickly. It must happen. And we must all start contributing towards that society as a society. All the time. Not in spurts of outpouring while ignoring the basic malady.

For that to happen, let us start at home. Stop hypocrisy. Stop the hyperbole.

A woman must be able to do what she wants.

When she wants.

Wherever she wants.

Till then, let us cancel the annual 15^th August celebrations!