Talking Shop: Two years, and counting

What happened in 2019 that nearly gave me freedom of soul, you ask? I retired from a crazy and high-flying Corporate life and attempted to return to the basics. I did, for a bit. I traveled the length and breadth of my country and my cats became as famous as I did amongst my rural brethren, with most villagers cooing at and ogling over them, especially as the little felines gingerly stepped out of my roaring SUV and on to new pastures, terrain, smells and territories. My dogs would patiently wait in Delhi in their fancy kennels till we would all be together again, on my return from these mindless wanderings. Sure, they would sulk for a bit, but dogs being dogs, they would happily accept me again and lick my face as soon as we returned to our homestead.

This column is my attempt to capture the last two years. As the six of us (two each of humans, dogs and cats) discovered to our collective dismay, that it was too good to last. The six of us sat and discussed this in our living room over a drink, some Pedigree and some Whiskas and we reached a modicum of understanding – that the good times are largely over and the real tumult is about to begin. In a very selfish and self-preservationist way, we also know that it is now every man, woman, dog and cat for themselves. As most in India have discovered to their distraught over the last two years, we are now living each day on its merit, for everyone's tomorrow is vividly suspect. Sad, but true.

A changed scenario

My columns over the last two years have captured the slide. I hate talking of negatives and sharing bad news, but that's what I have done, mostly. Today, without indulging in plagiarism of my own columns, I shall try to prove that even a dinosaur can write and be right.

COVID-19 could not hit India at a worse time. The economy was already in the doldrums, salaries and employment were sinking at an alarming rate, industrial production was slipping and consumption, consequently, was tanking. We were in an unannounced phase of recession (defined as two consecutive quarters of negative growth). Hell, by March 23, 2020, we already had many, many more quarters of negative growth. At this inopportune time barged in a deadly virus and put paid to any chances of an economic revival.

We saw sordid and gory pictures of people dying on our roads, lying down on railway tracks, some others marching back to their homes and a huge number leaving for offices but spending their times in parks and malls, for later, they had lost their livelihoods but not yet informed their families. Make-do and pretend were the call of the day, and not just for the people, but also for our authorities who refused to accept the deadliness of the pandemic, pandering to visiting dignitaries at stately get-togethers – a macabre and untimely celebration of life, and our highly-debatable national and international success.

All this nonchalance and chutzpah cost us dearly, but I shall not delve on that; much has already been said on this subject. Sad, but true.

New social media

What is new is the exuberant emergence of social media in India, especially for the sharing of news reports and happenings across the country. This has held particularly true as traditional news media and television channels have turned into stooges of the powers-that-be and only portray what they are dictated to. The vacillation between the truth and what is reported in-camera is scarily divergent, quite shameless, with even the choicest of yesteryears' reporters and news channels openly licking the boots of those that advertise and bring in the moolah. Sad, but true.

The saving grace is the emergence of independent news outlets that still report good and straight, but the limiting factor is that their sole means of reaching out to the masses are YouTube, Twitter and Instagram, accessible not to everyone. They trudge on nonetheless... And as the farmers' agitation showed us, they are coming of age and beginning to thrive, even have a verbal and visual impact on the scheme of things. The moral of the story here is to have patience. And pay, for independent channels in India will not survive for long without you and I being a part of their 'funding and revenues'. So, from media partakers and participators, we now have to become bankers to be able to read the truth. God, what has happened since I first joined journalism nearly 40 years back?

But the truth is that funding people is not easy when we are ourselves stretched for cash, as most Indians are today. The once-affluent are now selling cars and houses to stay afloat. Don't believe me? Look at the prices of pre-owned cars in Punjab, Haryana and Uttar Pradesh. They come for a pittance and are a telling tale of what is happening in homes once full of Butter Chicken and Lacchha Parantha. Sad, but true.

Other burning issues

You want more still? Here goes. Outgoing bank interest rates are at all-time lows, ranging from 4.9 to 5.1 per cent. Non-banking financial corporations (NBFCs) are doing a mite better, tremulous nonetheless in their longevity, as no one knows if they will be around in a month or so, given the fact that the Government is merging owner banks (give the weak to the muscled and let's see what happens is the chosen path). Inflation is killing us, with numbers unheard of before, but Indians are learning to manage. Communal tensions and beliefs are besieging us, today, but we thumb our nose at them. Why? The Yatis of the world mesmerize and enamour till they threaten to beat you up, on camera. We have re-evolved into where we came from – simians.

And our politicos are only talking of the farmers and other similarly cursed people. Why? Because they don't really matter, it was felt, till anyone from any ruling party visits the bucolic and rustic village, where they are all but villages thronged by farmers who once sat at Delhi's borders. 'Aaiye', they would say. These are historical calls, once that shall last for more than a while.

And finally, we have the Indian cricket team, which has been all but flagellating. Today, we shall not take names, but our best players are not playing together anymore. They come together on the damned social media and well, socialize, but on field, they are a-missing. A captain retires before time, a newly-anointed one fails to appear on the field, but we carry on nonetheless. Because? Jai ho. Jai again. Why? Because someone with no credentials has been allowed to call the shots… Sad, but true.

The writer is a clinical analyst and communications specialist. Views expressed are personal. [email protected]