We call them sons of soil, the proverbial torchbearers with whom rest the restless expectations of all and sundry. We find in them, hope and pragmatism, prospects as divergent as they are. We ascribe to them, in a subconscious throwback to our patriarchal prejudice, the onerous task of anchoring the dynastic juggernaut. No, it’s not a prosaic narrative that rues and argues the politics of gender, or for that matter, the gender of politics. It’s not an effort to debunk the di rigueur, nor is it a rabble rousing enterprise aimed to dismantle the demi –gods.
For starters, let’s be intelligent and intrepid to honour our infatuation with them. They are suave, articulate, well dressed, reasonably well read (well yes, maybe) and almost always well groomed. They are so unlike us, and going by conventional wisdom on laws of attraction, that is what sets us up. In our part of world, this besottment is as deep seated as our history. So when a dimpled debonair marches into dusty wastelands and announces himself the new political prince, we are too loath to let it pass as a fancied palaver. That Rahul Gandhi’s political report card presents novel shades of red is a different debate in itself. Recently, when Bilawal Bhutto Zardari, the 23-year old President of ruling Pakistan’s Peoples Party (PPP) accompanied his famous father to India, the analogical moorings of the overzealous mavens went into a familiar adrenaline- infested overdrive. As the young Bhutto warmed himself to not- so- young Gandhi, the regular rant of next generation reforms began to assume form and shape. There are some uncanny similarities other than their Oxford education though. Both of them belong to two of the more corrupt nations with dismal Human Development Indices, both are politically naïve, traditionally good looking, have dissenting cousins, considered leaders in making by the lobotomized lobby of their earnest admirers and both share the unfortunate family history of losing people to extremism. Will Bilawal be to PPP what Rahul has been to Congress? PPP would do well to hope otherwise.
Rahul’s poor parliamentary attendance and limited participation in debates have raised serious questions over his efficiency and political acumen. His impassionate rendition in numerous public meetings in the run up to Assembly elections too proved futile, as Akhilesh Yadav, the soft spoken Socialist scion of SP stole the thunder without any chauvinist chest thumping. Riding high on his ‘Kranti Rath’, the young Yadav connected with the masses, even as a hapless Rahul and helpless Congress failed to connect the dots, yet again. This brings forth another pertinent query- what constitutes loyalty, and is lineage an essential precursor to our (read Indian) loyalty? It may sound abstract, but the connotation isn’t devoid of its share of relevance and realism either. Take the case of so many of our celluloid stars. A lot of them, given their arsenal wouldn’t have ‘made it large’ but for their famous surnames. There is something more to this surname symbolism than mere nomenclature. It’s the pedigree that precedes them and lineage, in its varying sobriquets, succeeds them. More often than not, the apocryphal assumption of them having inherited the prodigal talent intrinsic to their glorious ancestors is accepted as self evident. Dynastic hegemony is not a simplistic social catchphrase anymore, it’s a psychological syndrome fostered by a cultural conundrum of hero worship, one that stymies free and fair system of operations. Throw in a bit of caste, a bit of religion and a bit of region, and you get the catastrophic spectacle of a dithering democracy, perched precariously on a precipice.
What is it with our premature and often compulsive obsession with everything new and relatively young? The death of nuance and critical, analytical faculties breed conceit, a self destructive proposition, that not just insults our intelligence in elevating the greenhorns to timeless greatness in first place, but also makes it infinitely impossible for them to do justice to whatever they indeed possess. Our fetish for euphonious Gandhis, Pilots and Scindhias has ensured that the struggles of the real recalcitrants goes largely unnoticed. Despite their revered inherited leadership skills, youth politics in India is widely considered an acronym for sham, shindig, noise and nuisance. Even the Anna Hazare’s ‘movement’, that many believed was symbolic of a generational shift spurred by the youth, eventually ended up being a classic case study for PR failure, thanks to both, the abundance of disillusionment among the participating youth (many of whom simply sauntered about the Ramlila grounds for a free lunch, without an inkling of Lokpal or legal jurisprudence) as well as the absence of a sound leadership to shepherd the mob and its overflowing sentiments.
In all fairness, the problem lies not as much with the youth themselves, as with the way we sermonize, demonise and/or idealise them. Thirty five percent of our population is below 20 years of age; while this does speak of a globalised, liberalized and vibrant underbelly itching to let itself go, it must also serve a reminder of sorts to assess the education and employment opportunities being accorded to them, if at all. They are national asset, and ought to be treated that way. They are not ‘sons’ of soil or carriers of political patriarchy; there is more to them than trite caprice and celebrated surnames. They are the templates of demographic dividend, and clichéd as it may sound, the harbinger of larger social change we often lust for. They are not utopia, they aren’t meant to be. They are as much like you and me. The trick is to just let them be.
PS: Running the hazard of pricking the sexist bandwagon and being branded a cynical feminist notwithstanding, a realistic observation asserts itself- Agatha K Sangma, the 31-year old lawyer and Minister of State for Rural Development is the youngest MP in the 15th , i.e. the current Lok Sabha. She has been going about her business with characteristic élan and without the charade that shrouds her more famous colleagues. Some points to ponder.
