Talking Shop: Audi. Vide. Tace.

“Man is born with eyes,

yet only after long years

of sorrow does he learn

to see clearly and in total

harmony with the Plan.”

— Manly P Hall

I have checked on Sir Hall’s antecedents and vouch for them. He is Manly alright, as are his teachings. What got my attention is that this quote adheres to the preaching of Freemasons, a genealogical body supporting development, values and charity. Ironically, the quote also unwittingly embodies the distorted versions of many maxims that have found their wicked way into India – wicked because they were intentionally warped after they got here.

For one, the Freemasons’ “Audi. Vide. Tace.” phrase translates to ‘hear, see, but be silent’. Indirectly, it asks us to be observant, attentive and let confidential matters stay that way. Good advice. There is a warped version of the quote too, which is to keep seeing what is happening around us, but to shut up about the intransigence and implacability.

Being attentive, observant and discreet is a value in many contexts and philosophies beyond Freemasonry, emphasizing the importance of listening while exhibiting restraint. In essence, ‘Audi. Vide. Tace.’ is a reminder for us to exercise wisdom in our interactions, contributing positively to personal growth, relationships and professional engagements.

In India, we have gone for the jugular with the inverse. Truth be told, we have forgotten about our three beloved monkeys and their teachings to us, symbols that generations of Indians grew up with in the 1960s, 1970s and even 1980s. Thus, we today see evil and hear evil (hell, we brazenly do evil too), but we don’t speak about it – our definition of paying homage to the cherished simians. What of fellow humans? Well, we couldn’t care less about them. Here is how shameless we have become, steeped in chutzpah, impudence and gall.

We used to speak up

It was December 2012 that saw India’s darkest reported chapter in crime against women –the gruesome rape of Nirbhaya on the National Capital’s roads. An indignant nation took to the streets, demanding harshest action against the perpetrators, holding candle-light vigils and protest marches, braving water cannons and the ire of dumbfounded authorities. People did not relent till justice prevailed, as it did, in dead earnest. Sadly, that was also the last time India stood up as one against such acts of psychotic mercilessness.

Just look at what has happened since then by way of sexual malfeasance. Banaras Hindu University, the Haathras case, the complaint filed against wrestling bigwig Brij Bhushan Sharan, the resignation of five Karnataka politicians over alleged sexcapades and, the latest, the inexplicable sexual-madness displayed by Prajwal Rewanna, MP and grandson of former Prime Minister HD Deve Gowda. It is a long list, betraying India’s lack of spleen and backbone – the only indicator of our loudness since then has been our pin-drop silence.

PS: The Nirbhaya tragedy also exposed another rot in the making – that of sections of the media turning into insensitive louts. Since 2012, the rot has festered and turned septic, so putrefying that it now puts waste disposal tanks below homes to shame. The media disclosed Nirbhaya’s real name and details of her family on their TV screens. I shall not speak of the media more; everyday now, we see them sink further into the faeces.

We used to resign

In August 1956, a rail mishap in Andhra Pradesh killed 112. Owning moral responsibility, Railway Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri submitted his resignation, but then Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru persuaded Shastri to continue in office. In November 1956, another rail accident in Tamil Nadu saw Shastri submit his resignation, pleading for its acceptance. In 1979, after an accident, then rail minister Madhu Dandavate resigned. In 1999, two trains collided in Gaisal, Bengal, which led to then Railway Minister Nitish Kumar resigning at once.

Those days are gone, perhaps because the office and the chair are now bigger than innocent deaths. Last year, three trains collided in Balasore, when the Coromandel Express rammed into a goods train and derailed, sending three coaches ploughing into the Bengaluru-Howrah Superfast Express, nearly decapitating and killing 296 passengers. No resignations – we only had officials on live TV pretending to crawl out of ratholes where none existed. The officials then burst into tears, again on live TV. Just a few days later, linemen and loco-engineers were blamed for their ‘negligence and human error’ which caused the accident.

PS: At the height of the farmers’ stir, a minister’s son ran his SUV over marching crofters from behind, killing some on the spot and instigating a riot. Not only did the minister never resign, he threatened on live TV those who questioned him with dire consequences. The farmers’ protest continues, as does the minister’s reign in another office.

Our hills had beauty

‘Khandar bata rahe hain imaarat kabhi buland thi’ (The ruins tell us that the building once stood tall and strong). This old Hindi axiom captures to a T what has transpired in our once-pristine hill stations and mountains. Climate Change and human excesses have played a crafty duet to strip hillsides down to dust, decay and devastation. Last year, it was Himachal Pradesh that witnessed this grim reality, as rains toppled hillsides, ate up roads for breakfast and belched them out into rivers to make space for lunch and dinner. A billion pairs of eyes watched the horrific scenes unfold, yet a billion mouths remained discreet and stayed shut.

The ‘tandav’ (dance of death) happened in and near Manali. Ladakh was witness to nature’s pandemonium too. Joshimath developed cracks the size of gullies in its state roads and highways, while other parts of Uttarakhand burnt unhindered, nature’s largesse of foliage and timber providing never-ending resources of fuel and wrath. Houses developed cracks and people fled their homestead of a 100 years as mayhem and panic reigned. Everyone kept quiet. The authorities did. The people did. The tourists who fled by car and on foot did. Even the cattle and domestic dogs did. As if nothing had happened. As if even our animals are permeable and absorb the burning tenet of Indian Freemasonry – shut up.

PS: A hoarding collapsed in Mumbai due to inclement weather, pinning down and killing scores of people. The hoarding’s claim to fame was being featured in record books for its sheer size. Everyone stayed discreet. Quiet. Shut up. The authorities mumbled when they detained the chaps who owned the site. The only loud decibels came from politicians campaigning for votes a few days later, shouting themselves hoarse as their sycophantic supporters danced themselves silly. Those who lost near and dear ones watched quietly.

We had moral courage

A deadly virus came calling and caught us totally unprepared. It brought our medical system to its knees, sending shivers down those spines whose brains had identified India as a ‘healthcare tourism destination’. After all, even a dying man will blink a few times before undergoing surgery in a place where people are falling like nine-pins, out of breath due to no oxygen. There was silence all around – some due to the ecstasy of escaping near-death tourism, while others followed the anti-Freemason diktat of staying shut. Shut up.

We were saved by a miracle that elevated us to the status of ‘vaccine Gurus’. It was only years later that people realized that the vaccine formulas were borrowed under license and the parent company had overlooked mentioning that there could be side effects leading to haemorrhage and heart attacks, even death. For people who had already had a taste of desi COVID-freedom at the hands of a Baba who sometimes cross-dressed in women’s clothes, this was too much to handle, leading them to be dumfounded and stay quiet. Shut up.

While a nation turned to lozenges and syrups to get its voice back, and volume up and running, the world decided to come up with indices ranging from hunger to poverty and freedom of speech to education and economic growth. With the going not good in any of the rankings, the authorities muttered that the parameters were rigged and the intentions ill-conceived and hostile. An indignant and still-reeling nation stayed discreet. Shut up.

Time to get saucy

Finally, we get to the spicy bit. Some brands of Indian spices were allegedly found to contain sawdust, eucalyptus powder, cement particulates and carcinogens. Singapore and Hong Kong have banned these companies, following in the footsteps of the US. Australia is standing still, one leg each in two boats. For the sake of that country’s pants, one hopes the two vessels stay on a parallel course.

Indians, meanwhile, are keeping quiet. That’s because Butter Chicken, Chhole Bhature and Pao Bhaji in the ‘now, here’ moment that we have learnt to live for are more important than not waking up one fine morning, because we are dead. At least, we would be discreet when we go, and the epitaph quite delectable – Cause of Death: Death by Venomous Delicacy.

We have learnt to live with lies, with the only saving grace being this quote: “It is always fun listening to someone’s lie when you already know the truth.” Many of us know the truth, but how many will admit it? More important, how many will speak out for it in today’s new world? Or should we remain discreet? Shut up.

The writer is a veteran journalist and communications specialist. He can be reached on narayanrajeev2006@gmail.com. Views expressed are personal