Gift of Gab
GIFT OF THE GAB
And then Narendra Modi. A first for this city. He came to the city to participate in a debate and it was his first visit after Godhra. Those who like to congratulate themselves on activist leanings went to the debate with confusion stirring in their hearts. Most of them were determined to hate him. The activists who weren’t members of the Club hosting the debate and who were actually card carrying members of either one of the Leftist parties or the Youth Congress, were present in hordes outside the gate carrying placards. Inside, was a crowd of kanjeevarams and elegant Chinos with a few crisp dhotis thrown in for good measure, but for the most part wearing a blissful general ignorance.
The lady behind me seemed to have an opinion on everything and she voiced it loudly. So and so looked like one of the three witches from Macbeth. She met a murdering husband in Crossword and was amazed at the way he had escaped the clutches of the law. I waited for some comment on Narendra Modi’s presence since that was the issue that obviously had so many people stirred up. However, the outspoken lady was remarkably indignant only about one thing affecting that subject. She felt that the activists had no right to objects to Club guests.
The speakers came in accompanied by Black Cat Commandos on tiptoe who waved their AK 47s in a very businesslike fashion in the direction of the audience. I thought briefly of a suicidal handbag bomber and abandoned the idea instantly since the muzzle really looked very businesslike. Two speakers later the Black Cats either faded away convinced that this lot was harmless or camouflaged themselves so brilliantly that they were invisible and the man himself stood up to speak.
The fact that he chose to speak in Hindi, the language in which, he said, he was most comfortable, was clever. I had the lady behind me make some crack about Bengali brains jangling at the choice of language, but after that, she was clapping too hard to have any time to spare for comments. Most people were since he sounded smooth, convincing and totally disconnected from any burning trains or disrupted lives. Quite a few people were of the opinion that he was the best of speakers since he stuck to his points and did not make any personal attacks, apart from accusing the minority communities of ‘emotional blackmail’. "But he lives by his tongue," an Art Director at my agency reminded me. "If he couldn’t talk, he would be dead by now."
Presumably so. The Americans, of course, have not heard him speak, or wouldn’t understand his Hindi if he did. However, India, on the whole seems to have forgiven him, so the reaction of the audience at the debate was probably a very useful sneak preview into the reactions that came later. Godhra? Very sad, very sad, but the man is a Minister after all…
And then Narendra Modi. A first for this city. He came to the city to participate in a debate and it was his first visit after Godhra. Those who like to congratulate themselves on activist leanings went to the debate with confusion stirring in their hearts. Most of them were determined to hate him. The activists who weren’t members of the Club hosting the debate and who were actually card carrying members of either one of the Leftist parties or the Youth Congress, were present in hordes outside the gate carrying placards. Inside, was a crowd of kanjeevarams and elegant Chinos with a few crisp dhotis thrown in for good measure, but for the most part wearing a blissful general ignorance.
The lady behind me seemed to have an opinion on everything and she voiced it loudly. So and so looked like one of the three witches from Macbeth. She met a murdering husband in Crossword and was amazed at the way he had escaped the clutches of the law. I waited for some comment on Narendra Modi’s presence since that was the issue that obviously had so many people stirred up. However, the outspoken lady was remarkably indignant only about one thing affecting that subject. She felt that the activists had no right to objects to Club guests.
The speakers came in accompanied by Black Cat Commandos on tiptoe who waved their AK 47s in a very businesslike fashion in the direction of the audience. I thought briefly of a suicidal handbag bomber and abandoned the idea instantly since the muzzle really looked very businesslike. Two speakers later the Black Cats either faded away convinced that this lot was harmless or camouflaged themselves so brilliantly that they were invisible and the man himself stood up to speak.
The fact that he chose to speak in Hindi, the language in which, he said, he was most comfortable, was clever. I had the lady behind me make some crack about Bengali brains jangling at the choice of language, but after that, she was clapping too hard to have any time to spare for comments. Most people were since he sounded smooth, convincing and totally disconnected from any burning trains or disrupted lives. Quite a few people were of the opinion that he was the best of speakers since he stuck to his points and did not make any personal attacks, apart from accusing the minority communities of ‘emotional blackmail’. "But he lives by his tongue," an Art Director at my agency reminded me. "If he couldn’t talk, he would be dead by now."
Presumably so. The Americans, of course, have not heard him speak, or wouldn’t understand his Hindi if he did. However, India, on the whole seems to have forgiven him, so the reaction of the audience at the debate was probably a very useful sneak preview into the reactions that came later. Godhra? Very sad, very sad, but the man is a Minister after all…
posted by bitandpieces at 6:44 AM
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