I had been functioning as the unofficial and unpaid envoy-at-large of the land of plenty ever since I came back from that wondrous land- minus the cocktail parties, limousines, air kisses, chandeliers and the sanitized environs behind barb-wired walls: Some kind of a common man’s envoy- in these troubled times I get badgered with questions from the man on the street about the situation there for Indian students. They try to read too much into statements of sundry ministers and raving TV anchors. I would go on and testify to the safety of the Indian students as well as the quality of life out there. I even persuaded my nephew to pursue his Masters in Sustainable Energy from an Australian University. I get extremely worried phone calls from my sis asking me whether things are as bad as they are reported in the media. I have a sis in law in the thick of all that trouble.
And this has been going on. There are also the mischievous ones who ask me whether my going there had anything to do with the beginning of the problems. I swear I hadn’t done anything to make Australians so upset with Indians that they can’t resist breaking an Indian head or two; all in a day’s work. (Please read The News Story in this blog).
And the police chief of the State of Victoria had to open his mouth and say something utterly indefensible. Did he have to say that Indians are safer down under than in their home country? It might be a good idea if he would go out on the streets of Melbourne on a weekend night and see for himself that no one is safe in that drunken youth melee. What gave him this wonderful insight? Can’t he see a whole generation in his home country growing up without a sense of purpose?
The Australian group “Men at work” entered the music scene in the early eighties. The song “Down Under” went on to become No 1 in the US charts. If one were to judge them by the song “who can it be now”, probably I wouldn’t be very charitable to their music. The great repository of online info, Wikipedia, says that the song Down Under is embroiled in a controversy of having plagiarized the tune of Kookaburra, a children’s tune and the lines of an old Welsh song. It plays incessantly when I am driving and when I am at work. Starts with a very Jethro Tull style flute solo and breaks into a reggae style beat. One can’t help tapping one’s feet and humming along. It was, I understand, played during the closing ceremony of the Sydney Olympics.
"Do you come from a land down under?
Where women glow and men plunder?
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?
You better run, you better take cover."
My memories of Australia are not replete with plundering men and glowing women. But I can hear the Thunder… a deep disaffection due to a feeling that the attacks continue and the Police have not been able to apprehend anyone in the several recent cases. I ask- didn’t Graham Staines and two little kids get burned to death in India? But I am told instantly- we didn’t invite him here to save souls. The culprits who did that heinous crime are in jail and they earn no public sympathy. The Aussies have opened shops even in small town India to invite Indians to educate themselves in courses ranging from Masters in Technology, MBA to hairdressing and catering- skills that are only incidental in the road to permanent resident ship in the land of plenty.
On any given working day one could spot at least thirteen cops standing near the junction of Supreme Court of India to prevent traffic offences. Yet Delhiites have no patience to wait till the red light turns green. Australia is largely un-policed. There are cameras to detect traffic offences and traffic tickets would come by mail- one could proceed to pay fines online with credit cards. I am yet to see an Australian jumping a red light- They might over speed; but they have a strong civic sense.
A sliver of the old song drifts into my memory
Lying in a den in Bombay
With a slack jaw, and not much to say
I said to the man, "Are you trying to tempt me
because I come from the land of plenty?"
And he said,
"Oh! Do you come from a land down under? (oh yeah yeah)
Where women glow and men plunder?
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?
You better run, you better take cover."
The first politician has already called for a ban on the cricket team of Australia. Are we over reacting? Sure the Indian media is on over drive. The reporting is not very balanced. When a thousand attacks take place on Indians in a foreign land, the boisterous press takes over and shapes public opinion. The Aussie media had completely relegated this important story to the back pages. For something that affects their image among one-fifth of humanity so profoundly, I must say that there wasn’t enough public debate on this when I was there. I don’t suppose things have changed much.
Let me put I this way. The Chinese are the largest student community in Australia. They are children of wealthy parents. They live in tony neighbourhoods and do not have to support or subsidize their studies by working late hours. Had a thousand attacks on Chinese students in one year taken place, would things be any different? Would the Victorian Police Chief dare to say that they are safer in Australia than, say, doing a sit-in strike at Tiananmen? Retribution would have come in the form of a few innocent and high profile Australians put behind bars in China. Australian media would then, have gone on an overdrive and politicians huddled in damage control mode.
Do you still vouch for the land of plenty? Reason tells no: I better run… better take cover. But then I think of all the wonderful people I came across during the last one year. I remember how we were given shelter when in distress. I remember how a schizophrenic relative recovered by the sheer justice and opportunities that their system contain. I remember total strangers smiling at me in the neighbourhood. I remember the Indophiles in the academia in ANU. I remember the expanses of greenery under the still clear blue sky with large wisps of clouds. I remember the creeks and lakes. I remember the bushes and tall trees along the long and winding roads. I remember the unhurried and relaxed life- something I miss so sorely. Life is a struggle for survival now. My heart tells me that I am not gonna run and take cover. I shall continue to vouch for the land of plenty….
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Sam Miller’s “Delhi- Adventures in a megacity” is a riot of laughs. Call it masochistic pleasure- it is good to see oneself through the eyes of others. Miller is married to his Indian wife for many years. With a penchant for mathematics he visualizes the maze that is Delhi in concentric circles and tries to unravel the many kinks and curiosities that lie within. Billboards that we took for granted, ear cleaners who peddle their trade on the footpaths, a descendent of royalty who shuns ordinariness with intensity, the Yamuna that carries the tonnes of filth; everything is vividly described and we wonder- Wow I didn't notice that before. He trudges through Delhi on foot and unpacks the contrasts, the complexities and the cruelties of ordinary life in Delhi. Well one might stay in a nice neighbourhood and insulate oneself to a great extent. But reality hits you nevertheless. A BBC correspondent who made his home in Delhi, Miller, provokes you to think and to see oneself more objectively. An essential read for any Delhiite
