Cut the 'Spirit-of-Mumbai' crap

Okay. So there's been another tragedy, loved-ones lost, lives affected, business drained, people shatterred, shocked and scared. But Aamchi Mumbai is 'back on its feet'. Back to work as if nothing has happenned. Back in the rat race by dusting itself off after slipping on a hurdle. Back to a mechanical life where the only breather is an interruption that disrupts life on a large scale. We are supposed to be in grief, but we are celebrating THE SPIRIT OF MUMBAI.

I think this 'spirit' that everybody talks about is at the most worth acknowledging and appreciating, but not glorifying and celebrating. I beg to differ, but according to me, this 'spirit', is the spirit of this city - that has died long back. And still dies everyday. We don't pay too much attention to it as this phrase has been hammerred into our brains by the audience-hungry media, authors (of books on Mumbai), politicians and whoever needs to say something about the city. Maybe the media and some authors use it in perspective - as a social support or to project an amiable image of the city. But why do we get carried away by a minister hailing his praja for being a good one. Case-in-point: State Chief Minister Vilasrao Deshmukh and Union Home Mnister Shivrao Patil - who would might as well have said that they have more faith in this 'spirit' than in their abilities.

I don't want to sound like wussbag that blames the burearocrat for every pot-hole on the road. All I am trying to ask this Mumbaikar who 'takes every tragedy in his stride', is - "Why do you allow somebody to slap you, punch you, rape your sister, shove a knife up your arse and go away with everything you own, leaving you behind to see a family in pain? Why dude, why? And how do you even get the motivation to go to work the next day?" Gandhi spoke about taking only a slap, not a molestation of rights. But we sell our moral fibre to a bunch of verbose bastards who applaud our silence, helplessness and ignorance of rights by calling it the 'Spirit of Mumbai'. It's like your body-guard appreciating the way you held yourself, got up from a pool of blood to wear your torn underpants after getting beaten by a stranger. You don't ask him where he was, what he was doing and why he didn't do anything. On the contrary you smile coyly, embaressed by your own 'resilience' and give him a hike and a day off. I know, it's not as bad as it sounds. It's only worse.

Please don't get me wrong. I am not even talking about the motormen returning to the Dead Man's Handle. I am not even talking about the helpful nature and positive attitude that people of this city show when calamity strikes. That is indeed applaudable and such a show of selflessness and brotherhood can be seen only in a city with a social fabric like ours. But that is where the selflessness should stop. What I have a problem with, is people getting used to the pain only because they can bear it. What I have a problem with, is the masking of incompetence, unaccountability, unpreparedness and corruption with an excuse that the city will be able to cope with anything. And this excuse called 'spirit' is being confused with the patience, attitude and resilience that the city has.

I know life needs to get back to normal. I know the victims and the affected are looking around for signs of sympathy, strength and normalcy. I know it's not correct to point fingers when there are people who need a shoulder. But I also know that we have a short memory. I also know that we forgive easily - not because we want to give a second chance, but because we are too busy making money. I also know that we're used to getting raped and some of us just can't live without it.

Either people of this city are being fooled, or they are changing. I can think of four reasons why the city wants to get back on its feet so soon after a tragedy.
1) We've become insensitive. We've already become blind to beggars and deaf to cries of pain. A crowded train with commuters hanging on with a finger and a toe do not make us sigh. Sights of hunger and malnutrition do not bother us. We are strong Mumbaikars, our hearts do not melt as they are made of stone.
2) A reason we don't do anything or even cause a whimper for our lost rights could be because we've given up hopes for our city. We shamelessly believe that no change can happen and the administrative machinery can be oiled only by money. We also believe that going out to vote for or against anybody will not help. We believe that we can't change our lives, forget changing the world.
3) We're too busy making money and don't want to mess around with our cash flows and dreams of a bigger house and a faster car. Time is important - corporates lose millions if they do not work for even a day. But they lose money everyday because of bad roads, poor electricity and weak infrastructure. Our economy loses too, but not as much as through defence allocations.
4) And the mother of all illegitimate reasons is - indifference. Perhaps, we just don't care! Perhaps, we feel it does not affect us. Surely, what has the city given to us that you should care for it? It didn't give opportunity - we grabbed it. It didn't create an environment in which our ideas and talents could thrive. We created that environment. The city didn't even give us money - we earned it. And we return favours, if any, by paying taxes. Why, we even pay bribes! After all, why should we care about the city and its people. And its future. We won't be here in future. We'll be settled somewhere in the States looking down on the non-existent standard-of-living.

Whatever reason or excuse ti may be, my fundamental grieviance is with our behaviour. We'll follow an unconstitutional bandh and not go to work if some bird craps on a bust, but we won't show concern to lost lives by staying back to spend time with affected families, share their grief and give them hope. We'd might as well make some money, right? So we'll wear a blood-stained shirt to work. If Mumbai is home to you, those living here are your family. Would you get back into the grind if someone from this larger family is no more? By getting back to 'normal life' within hours of a tragedy, what are we trying to prove and to whom?

The 'spirit' is not in getting back to work in record time. It is to understand and act on the message being sent by terrorsists. Unless we take notice and demand action, we'll have to keep taking death in our stride. There are millions of people around the world for whom every day is either a 9/11, 7/7 or 11/7. People of these religions and communities don't know whether they'll return home in the evening. What terrorsists want is an acknowledgement of this fact and compassionate behaviour in return. If we cannot act on the message, they will keep reminding us with more messages. Sir Manmohan Singh said that India will not kneel in front of anybody. Maybe it affects national pride. Really? What are we gonna do with the pride? If giving Kashmir away will affect national pride, think again about what you plan to do with the pride. There might not be anybody left to enjoy it.

I don't say war is a solution. But I don't even say that taking terrorism in your stride is a good thing. There are better things to unite upon - we don't need grief. If this point of view seems drastic, check out The Times of India (July 13, 2006) and Hindustan Times (July 13, 2006). Articles voicing similar concerns gave reassurance to my thoughts. I don't know why I chose this moment to think about it. I guess it is the personal loss I have sufferred. It is a pathetic way to keep sensitivity alive and I hope nobody has to see blood to realize its worth.

Anyways, we're back to our lives. Back like the commercial break. Back like the monthly bills. But NOT like the tide, the sun and the seasons. Because these are natural - we are not.

Respondents I Remember
While doing consumer research as part of my summer internship, I got to visit Coimbatore and New Delhi. I met a lot of people to interview them with my lengthy questionnaire. Much against my wishes, I interrupted couples holding hands, parents cajoling their kids, teenagers chilling out, students filling admission forms, and lots of people in the middle of something or the other.

“I don’t have the heart to disturb people when they’re having a good time.” I groused to somebody from advertising. Then, he told me, I was in the wrong business as advertising and marketing are all about interrupting people. I could disagree with support from Craig Davis' quotes.

Anyways, from the hundreds of people ‘interrupted’ by me, some are stuck in my memory – either with reason or without. I enjoyed two of the best perks a marketing job can give: traveling and meeting people. Here’s an attempt to recall…

Mumbai is where I started my research and met people at various places.

Rajeev Mehra was with a couple of friends at Nariman Point and was probably having a post-lunch chat. As I approached them and asked for some time, they begged for forgiveness but Rajeev obliged. “Apun ne bhi bahut kiya hai, la.” he said. Don’t be impressed by his show of sympathy. He only screwed up the questionnaire. Writing occupation as ‘Market Research’ is an indicator of his sadist tendency. He selected options that were most different, just to skew the data. I guess his favourite was the Likert Scale. He ticked diagonally, zig-zag and straight. I wonder if he read anything. His answer to “What’s the coolest thing you’ve done in the last week?” was – sex. Collective advice they gave me? “Kya itna kaam kar raha hai. Fill them on your own, yaar!”

It was a Saturday noon when my haversack of questionnaires and me headed for Jai Hind College. Thought we’d get some students to talk to. Just as I entered the gate, a girl came rushing to me, asking for a favour. No, she only wanted me to get interviewed by her camera-laden team. We’d scratch each others’ backs. Sindhu Satish turned out to be a BMM student doing her internship in an ad agency and had come with her team to interview people. She was so soft-spoken that I had trouble listening to what she was saying from two feet away. I later discovered that she usually does that save her voice. A trained singer, Sindhu had reached one of the final rounds of Indian Idol 2. She intends to make singing a profession.

I met Jasmine Eunice in the canteen of a medical college on my first day in Coimbatore. A fair, chubby female in salwar-kameez with a lovely and warm smile. I interviewed her and later regretted not taking her number or e-mail. Maybe I didn’t need to. The next I was at Nilgiri’s (a famous supermarket) and walking along Aravanshi Road along my way to Racecourse Road. Surprise surprise! Who do I see! We say hi to each other as if we’ve been old buddies and give brief intro’s. I took her e-mail and she gives me her palm to jot my contact down. I didn’t want her to be seen taking numbers on her hand in the middle of the road, in front of her friend. Like a good boy, I take out a post-it and hand her the details. “I’ll wait for your mail.” she says. Very eagerly that evening, I went to a cyber café to write her a mail asking her to show me around. The mail still bounces back.

(to be continued…)