The Punjab Police has apparently filed an FIR against AAP leader Ashish Khetan for hurting religious sentiments.
That dreaded phrase. Is there an equivalent charge elsewhere in the world, a charge that manages at once to be so serious and so utterly frivolous? But let's begin at the beginning.
On July 3, in Amritsar, Arvind Kejriwal was the star attraction at an AAP rally to launch a 51-point youth manifesto for the party's Punjab election campaign. Manifesto launches - not that I've been to many - are dull affairs. Principally because manifestos are dull things.
Here, for instance, are a couple of random examples from the AAP manifesto: modern Pendu Sehat clinic in every village; teachers will be empowered and tasked only for teaching; budget for sports will be increased.
Incidentally, under the latter point was the following elaboration: "Budget for sports will be increased substantially".
Thanks for the extra detail, AAP manifesto-writers.
Anyway, you see what I mean.
It's not the sort of thing you'd imagine anyone would give up a Sunday evening for. But you'd be wrong.
Tens of thousands of people flocked to Ranjit Avenue to hear Kejriwal speak. Punjab is crushing on Kejriwal in a major way.
It may not, like most crushes, last long. The elections are a distant six months or so away. But, right now, the AAP is the biggest story in town.
It is what brought me to Amritsar on a Sunday evening. I was working on a piece about the AAP for the India Today magazine. Waiting for Kejriwal, like the crowd, I endured the other speakers.
Khetan is the vice chairman of the Dialogue and Development Commission of Delhi. |
It was clearly an emotional day for the team that had worked on the manifesto.
Journalist Kanwar Sandhu chaired the Punjab Dialogue Committee that put together the manuscript. He seemed prepared to list every one of the document's 51 points and had to be practically muscled away from the microphone by AAP apparatchiks.
Khetan, who is the vice-chairman of the Dialogue and Development Commission of Delhi, the internal AAP think tank that researches and suggests policy, also spoke.
He brandished the skinny manifesto above his head and intoned (in Hindi), this is our Guru Granth Sahib, this is our Quran, this is our Bible, our Gita. I'm not quoting him exactly; it is what I remember him saying. I was too busy rolling my eyes to take notes.
It wasn't the religious aspect of the comparison that bothered me, it was the vaingloriousness, the self-seriousness.
And then I read that he was being booked for hurting religious sentiments, a charge that carries a potential three-year jail term, and I had to roll my eyes again.
Vogue magazine is often referred to as the "fashion bible"; there are restaurant bibles and wine bibles; when I was a child I used to salivate over the Rothman Football Yearbook, the bible of football yearbooks.
Human beings have this gift - imagination. It means we don't have to be so literal all the time.
There is a relentless silliness to political campaigning. It is not unique to India.
The US presidential race is arguably the most ridiculous show on TV; and in the age of reality TV, in which ordinary people are manipulated and scripted into simulating (spoofing?) ordinary people, that takes some doing.
If we can't force politicians to discuss policy plans and ideas, let's come up with a workable alternative.
I have an idea. The police should not register FIRs by members of political parties against their counterparts from opposing parties for hurting religious sentiments or for libel.
Instead they should be put in a boxing ring, kitted out in clown shoes, and armed with a microphone and foam-filled polo mallets.
Every time one politician says something deemed to be offensive, his opponent can walk over and hit him on the head with the mallet. Bosh!
At least, we could all then stop pretending to take this stuff seriously.