We today live in extremely hopeful times. The yoke of
an unresponsive Government, often and frequently accused of being in a
continuous state of policy paralysis has been dethroned. The country has been
unshackled from the yoke of a dynasty that has intermittently ruled the country
for decades. The entire hopes of the country is now reposed on the broad
shoulders (or is it the 56 inch chest) of one man. Questions asked are promptly
replied with, “Wait and see what he does.” I would be either an extremely
competent and fearless person to shoulder this responsibility or a very scared
person wondering how to deliver on the many promises made over the past few
months that was dominated by rallies extolling people to vote for one person.
All said and done, all the noises seem to have the
correct resonance and a start seems to have been made. I am willing to overlook
the now-famous controversy between chicken dishes being served to a visiting
Head of Government by respective Prime Ministers and whether one was right or
the other. Politics is one thing, and running Government is another. One does
end up saying things to win an election and yet ends up doing what is
politically and diplomatically prudent when occupying the exalted Chair of
Government. The difference between and agitator and an administrator was
unfortunately quite lost on yet another politician, who has been dubbed AK49
due to his 49 days in power and the name of the Party, which was for a brief
moment in history the harbinger of hope and change is taking on uncharitable
acronyms.
Yet, I believe we live in a climate of hope. What I
wonder is where this hope is coming from. From want of change, is what I
figure. Change from what has been happening over the past many years. As a
common man (the ubiquitous aam aadmi, not to be confused with a would-be
national party that tried to usurp this position), is not so concerned about
fiscal deficit, the value of the rupee or the current price of Brent in the
international market. He does not care where the 300 unfortunate Nigerian girls
are being kept hostage or whether North Korea will finally carry out a nuclear
detonation. The stock market is something that he keeps hearing about without
knowing or caring about it too much. He does even point to the Malacca Straits
on the map, much less care about China’s regional territorial plans. Arunachal
Pradesh is an Indian State and he wonders what the brouhaha is all about stapled
visas. After all, he is lucky to be able to travel to his hometown to meet his
folks once a year, if that.
Nope, the mango man (as he is also called) does not
care about the ills of the world and whether outsourcing will be curtailed by
the American Government. He is concerned about how many days of the month are
left at the end of the money. In many case, how many hours are left at the end
of the day and whether he can stretch the few measly coins in his pocket to put
some food in the mouths of his hungry children. He does not understand why that
ten rupee note that bought him so much just a few months back, is today refused
even by the beggar, who by many accounts, has a fat bank balance due to the
mafia that controls this industry. He is concerned about the bills that keep piling
up – electricity, water, phone, tuition, private tuition. And living in India,
he dreads festivals knowing that uncles and aunts, nephews and nieces, his wife
and children, sundry other relatives and acquaintances will be looking towards
him for a new set of clothes, long over due.
The aam aadmi is spending increasing amounts of time
at the doorstep of whichever higher power he thinks will show him a way out of
the hole that he seems to find himself in.
Yes, we are living in an era of hope. Hope for
deliverance. Hope to find a way out to make ends meet without worrying too much
about where the next meal is coming from. Hope that now the economy will become
better and he will not dread going to office wondering if he still has his job.
Hope in things to come. Hope in the future since there was nothing much in the
past to write home about.
Yes, we live in hopeful times. And yes, this burden of
hope of a large percentage of the 125 crore citizens is a burden that is being
carried by one man. Even his colleagues and well wishers seem to have abdicated
their individual responsibilities and point to that one person as the harbinger
of good times to come. Indeed, the slogan is Good Times Have Come. Personally I
wish him Godspeed since there are enough naysayers waiting in the wings for him
to stumble and fall. They are waiting to smirk and utter aloud, “I told you so.”
Yet, we live in a state of hope. The nation hopes. The
citizens hope. Dalal Street hopes. Corporate India hopes. The world hopes.
Indeed, after being a pariah for so many years, the single most powerful nation
in the world hopes that he will deign to accept their invitation to visit the
land of the big apple. Hope lingers on and perseveres.
It is said, never deprive a person of hope since it
might be the only thing he has. And that is what makes this era of hope so
dangerous and frightening. If the hopes are belied (and I hope they are not),
many many lives will be shattered at the impending status quo.
But that is a much more macro issue and I will not
even attempt to judge on what may or may not happen in the near term or middle
term future. Except, of course ... hope!
I would rather concentrate on me and myself for the
moment, the only thing I have control over. Or do I? Do any of us really have
control over our own destinies? Aren’t we all interdependent? Do prosper, we
require to live in an interconnected world, a world where our destiny is
connected with the actions of others. For me to do something, others have to do
something, and together we can further our individual destinies.
We do not live insular lives. If we have something to
sell, we need someone to buy. If the buyer dithers or goes somewhere else,
where does that leave us? I guess, hope for a better deal tomorrow.
I have been living in hope for almost two decades now.
Some say (actually many say) that my hopes are too grand. Do not dream so big,
they tell me. I understand their concerns, but hope keeps me going. I am yet to
meet too many people who disagree with my thoughts or ideas. What they disagree
with mainly is the scale of the ideas. Think small, they insist. Think BIG, I tell
them. The amount of time it takes to sell a small idea (read cheap) is about
the same as a big one. The problem I faced with a cheaper proposal (many times
unstated) is, “It is too insignificant to waste time on.” On the other end of
the spectrum, when presenting a bigger idea I have heard the whispers, “It is
too big and too much is at risk.” Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
Yet, hope lingers and one perseveres and proceeds for
the next round of meetings ... and rejections.
I tell my daughters about Ray Croc and how he started
McDonalds when he was 52. This when they inquire whether it is time I slowed
down and got down to things more mundane. There is this guy who published his
first book when he was 96 years old. Another guy who went through multiple
pairs of shoes before someone cared to even read his proposal for funding.
There are enough examples of people who stay at it, refusing to give it all up,
telling themselves, “Someday!” And it is these pioneers who screw up the lives
of people like who believe that they have been born for a reason and have a
destiny to fulfil. Probably all balderdash.
Yet, hope in that tiny corner of the brain rejuvenates
the grey cells and the next PowerPoint finds its way into some Conference Room
or the other.
Some years ago I heard that God would not put you
through trouble without giving the strength to face it. The continuation to
that statement was, “I wish He did not have so much faith in me!” With
increasing rejections, keeping the faith becomes so much more difficult. And it
is not so much rejections that bother me really. It is the utter disregard with
which one is treated. People think they are doing you a favour by deigning to
meet with you. They refuse to respond to email, phone calls or text messages.
They are always either busy or travelling or in a meeting. It is quite easy to
say, “Listen, thanks a lot, this does not work for us.” Why waste your time and
mine by refusing to close one way or another? And by keeping hope alive, a
disservice is being done. To the project, to the individual and to the whole
concept of hope itself.
There is yet another group of people who are the
exploiters. They are the ones with the money, the entrepreneurs, wealth gained
through hard work, diligence and I suspect with a fair bit of wheeling and
dealing. They guard even their loose change with a vengeance. “So what if it
costs you so much. I can only offer this much, take it or leave it. But you
cannot leave out any of things you promised.” And there are worse people who
take over your concept and end up executing it themselves without even a by
your leave. They are worse than those who pick up the project, and ask you to
execute it for a fee, as a paid employee. Demeaning, but better than being at
the raw end of the barn where your horse used to be. No point in bolting the
door now.
How important is hope really? Is it as significant as
it is made out to be? Where would we be if we came face to face with the
reality of hope? Is it a good thing that hope is always in the future and not
staring us in the face with its realism right here and now?
With age comes wisdom, or so people say. I do not
about wisdom, but realism certainly comes home to roost. One starts questioning
the very premise on which hope is based and comes to face really some painful realities.
When hope goes out of the window, your life can actually become like a deflated
balloon. And it happens fast. That is when you grow old and spend the rest of
your days sitting back without a care in the world, counting the days when
someone hopefully will put two coins on your forever closed eyes as fare for
the ferryman to take you across the river separating this world and the next.
Hope is very powerful, but then hope can also be very
insignificant. Is it better or worse to delay the realisation of this
insignificance of hope, I wonder.
