Three nights ago, a furious discussion broke out at the Delhi Press Club over the upcoming Salman Khan verdict in the 2002 hit-and-run case outside the American Express bakery in Bandra. The discussion, getting less lucid and more intense with every peg of rum, veered around whether Salman was driving that night or not, how his driver was being made a scapegoat, and how the law must be dispassionate, no matter how rich or famous you are.
The main points of that slurry conversation have been held up by the Mumbai Sessions Court, which passed its verdict on Wednesday. Salman, 49, has been held guilty of culpable homicide not amounting to murder, of rash and negligent driving, and driving under the influence of alcohol. He has been sentenced to five years in prison. Justice, in other words, has been served.
But there was a part two to the press club story. When the furious discussion ended, the participants left the club (as did many others on other tables), sat in their cars parked outside, and blissfully drove home. Hardly any of them had retained their drivers because it was late, and they had early starts the following day – perhaps to pen strongly worded editorials or deliver TV sermons in which they would sit in moral judgment over Salman.
This article is not meant as a defence for the actor or as a means to run down my profession. The scene is the same across clubs, bars and "car-o-bar" huddles across the country every night. No matter what vocation, no matter what social class, no matter where they live and what they do, Indians have a terrible habit of drinking and driving. And we continue to persist with it, no matter how high the cost.
Verdicts such as the one against Salman are important because they are meant to set an example. They tell us that if someone as popular and influential as him can be punished, anyone can. But are we really willing to learn? Or will we simply flash our press cards or offer a bribe the next time we are asked to submit to a breath analyzer test?
Driving under the influence is as dangerous as brandishing a loaded weapon on the street. It’s time we realised that. But, most importantly, before we offer our opinions on TV, in newspapers, or even on Facebook and Twitter, let us ask ourselves a key question: do we really have the right to take the moral high ground?