Percentage Of Indianness
India That Is Bharat
Satiricus pleads guilty. He most humbly pleads guilty before Justice Markandeya Katju, retired Judge of the Supreme Court of India. For all his life Satiricus has been claiming that he is an Indian, a hundred per cent Indian. That was a lie. The truth, the whole sorry truth, is that he is either only a 5 per cent genuine Indian, or a 95 per cent fake Indian. For according to an erudite oration delivered by the learned legal luminary, “the generally accepted view now” (and Justice Katju would not accept it if it was not especially acceptable to him,) “the original inhabitants of India” were not Aryans, nor even the Dravidians who preceded the Aryans, but pre-Dravidian aborigines whose descendants are the speakers of the Munda language who presently live in the forest areas of Chhota Nagpur, Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Odisha, West Bengal etc., the Todas of the Nilgiris, and others known as Adivasis. Their population is only 5 to 7 per cent of the total population of India. The remaining about 95 per cent people living in India today are descendants of immigrants who came mainly from the North-West….Even the Dravidians are now believed to have come from outside, probably from the present Pakistan and Afghanistan areas….”
Satiricus is stunned. He is stunned at the lie he has been living. As a practising English-language Indian journo he knows that he does not have to know English, but neither does he know this language Munda, does he? That means he is neither an original Indian nor an aboriginal Indian. What is worse for Satiricus’s pretensions to Indianness, he cannot have come from Pakistan, otherwise as a pak Pakistani Indian he would have been in the pay of ISI (as a certain Hurriyat leader is alleged to be), nor from Afghanistan, the land of Taliban, for the simple reason that he simply does not have the guts to be a gun-toting Jihadist.
There is another important factor contributing to Satiricus’s non-Indianness. It is that according to Justice Katju, India is a country of immigrants, and they came in an assortment of shapes and sizes “someone has Caucasian features, someone has Mongoloid features, someone has Negroid features.” That certainly stumps Satiricus. For he is neither as fair and handsome as a Caucasian, nor as dark and strong as to be Negroid, nor does he have a Mongoloid flat nose. He just looks an average Indian, although born with below-average intelligence. Sothen, what is the percentage of Indianness in Satiricus? Is he a 5 per cent real Indian or a 95 per cent synthetic Indian? Satiricus does not know. Maybe there is no percentage in being an Indian.
There is also another problem rather, two problems with Justice Katju. Firstly, if as a judge he confused dimwit Satiricus with his obtuse observations on the concept of quantitative Indianness of ancient times, as a retired judge his outdated observations on the meaning of modernity in India today have made confusion worse confounded in what passes for Satiricus’s brain. He recently wrote: “Cricket has been turned into a religion…. and most people lap it up like opium.” Well, now, Satiricus never thought that one day Marx and Markandeya would come together to call religion an opiate. But then, while opium is the common factor, the religions differ. For changing times require a change in religion. In old times it may have been Hinduism, in modern times it became secularism, and in ultra-modern times it is cricket. And as every religion requires a ritual, the ritual of the religion of cricket requires an auction of cricketers where players are bought and sold like cattle in a bazaar. Cash and carry, wot? And naturally those who are dearest in terms of cash are dearest to us. For instance, now that Sachin Tendulkar has made a hundred hundreds and also made a bungalow that is insured for a hundred crores, there is a clamour for making him Bharat Ratna. See? Savarkar did not deserve a Bharat Ratna, but Sachin does. What, after all, is Savarkar known for? For being sentenced to two life-terms in jail. But could he hold a bat in his hand? He could not. So he cannot hold a candle to Tendulkar.
Another area of the erudite judge’s erroneous criticism is what he crassly calls the hype about film stars. He recently wrote: “I had criticised the media hype around Dev Anand’s death at a time when 47 farmers in India were committing suicide on an average every day for the last 15 years.” Now that, your honour, is too much; for learned as you are, you do not seem to have learnt that farmers may come and farmers may go, but films go on forever. So Satiricus must reject your untenable assertion that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in Tinsel Town’s dream factories.