VIP (Culture) Stands For Very Irritating People

[Photo courtesy: The Indian Express, VIP lane leads to traffic chaos]

Recently when an elderly couple, one of who was a 67-year old differently-abled wheelchair patient, was denied entry to the VIP lounge at Udaipur airport without any justifiable reason, huge annoyance floated throughout the country. Many media giants including NDTV expressed their solidarity in raising a common voice for the common man against burgeoning misuse of VIP culture in India, who tend to forget that 'With great power, also comes great responsibility." The question, however, is this -

Who is a VIP?

Who is this new breed of species in India whose every second of life a precious holy water which must be protected even at the cost of public discomfort? Whose every glimpse a precious blessing for the common man who must stay stuck in traffic for long hours before the Majesty's convoy passes by? Who is this 'very important person', who when not even around, is reserved a special room in his commemoration, prohibited from use even by the most needy?

While we thought the country is divided into caste, creed, religion, colour or gender, here's an addition to its rich classification. The common versus the very important person! Depending on how the VIP is using tag bestowed, the 'I' in the word often gets replaced with impolite, idiot, imbecile or irritating. VIP is a species of its kind. One could be an admirable minister, a bureaucrat, a corporate bigwig or a media giant in professional life but the moment one steps in public domain, the VIP puts on a typical avatar so that he can be easily identified even in a crowd of millions.

How about taking a look at the characteristics of this peculiar species that India has bred since the time British left us obliging in their pious hands?

VIPs use divine vehicles. No! It's not a meta-airplane that descended from the clouds above for this special person but the same ordinary SUV, car or jeep that one spots in a local market's showroom or in any of our homes. What gives it a divine touch are the red, amber, blue beacons and flashlights donning its roof tops which whistles, glows and clears way for the red carpet on road. Just one 'touch of glow' on top of vehicle and suddenly one can see convoys adorning roads, barricades erected, cops running in action and public waiting like helpless mute spectators. If there's no beacon, a flag of some national or local political party serves the purpose as deftly. Coupled with intense honking and reckless driving, even their chauffeurs begin to think of themselves as no lesser a Supernova.

VIPs love their family like no other. Wife, children, close kins and distant relation or whoever? Our special person has amazing qualities of doting. While most of benefits and privileges are meant for effective official discharge of duties, the VIP magnanimously distributes all to his close ones. Office vehicles, special passes, reserved seats, bodyguards, tickets, tours and even an admission for children in colleges through backdoor special permissions? Not a big deal when instead of the VIP, Mrs. Minister or Mrs. Bureaucrat (who otherwise is Mrs. Nothing herself) cuts the ribbon at most inaugurations on his behalf.

VIPs believe in leading. Without an exception, these meritorious individuals lead us everywhere. They are the first ones to grab a seat in stadium, block a space in parking, book special passes to entertainment, seek appointment from doctor and sadly, may even claim entitlement to a prospective patient's bed in star-hospital, emergency or no-emergency. It could well be the reason why nobody has ever seen a VIP waiting for his turn in a public toilet like any of us?

VIPs love God or vice versa. Whatever be it, there are sufficient reasons for us to believe in the strong bond of affection between God and VIP. Right from the time they are offered special entry to religious places to overlooking worshipping queues to special darshans for their well-being and prosperity. At a scared place where everyone is presuming equal before the Almighty, our special one is anointed the blessed soul and savior of mankind by the very pujaris. who eagerly give them special attention.

Finally VIPs, like little children, love stickers. If you find it difficult to identify this species on the basis of characteristics discussed a while ago, feel free to spy their cars. There you go with the Eureka moment! Bharat Sarkar, Pradesh Sarkar, District Administration, let alone Judges, even advocates of Supreme/High or any petty court, flaunt stickers all over! And why not? Isn't bypassing rules no more than a silly child-play to some?

Strangely, nobody has a clue how 'genuine' the VIP is? He could actually be a person of national asset who deserves a special treatment or he could be just a funny muse making mockery of his post? Whatever specie he is, let's accept, it is we who help breed the VIP culture. How some of us brag around in our social circle about knowing some high profile VIP or having links with him? How some want to get even remotely associated with VIPs in order to receive smattering spillovers of their privileges? How few of us do not hesitate bowing before them to get favoured out-of-the-way recommendations, only to oblige later?

But lo and behold! After all, ours is a culture in which we believe in preserving our nation's rare wonderment even at the cost of our lives. We have been protecting old historical monuments, dolphins, Indian vulture, tigers and other rare species with much commitment, patience and zeal. How about including VIPs, eh? 

Is It A Toilet? Is It A Canvas? Is It A Dating Site?

'Modern art' clicked during a trip to Amber Fort, Jaipur

Like any other date, 18 April passed by. But not before it was celebrated with much fanfare and media attention across the world as 'World Heritage Day". There were seminars, heritage walks, quizzes, interactive programmes, slogan contests, a Twitter trail of hash tags, pictures flooding Instagram. It seemed as if everyone had a stake in saving our ancient heritage sites and historical monuments.

But even as diverse voices chimed as one to commemorate our glorious past, the chorus felt like a dirge. An obituary. It was as if a monument in its death throes was witnessing from its half-grave the soft pastel wreaths being offered as a mark of respect along with a few kind words in remembrance of its erstwhile stardom. Listening to futile prayers to "let's keep it alive forever". Now that we did our bit in paying condolences, may its dear soul rest in peace while it actually rests in pieces.

As an avid traveller who has traversed the most difficult roads to scale the heights of our country's majestic forts, I can vouch that we are too rich to ever get ripped off our national heritage. No matter in how bad a shape we leave our monuments, their ruins will speak of its grandeur and legends of bravery. Unless of course we try to overwrite these legends with our hastily scrawled names and doodles.

The moment you enter an old monument, somewhere in the corner of the entrance you will spot welcoming graffiti carved on the wall by a former visitor. Most likely, the graffiti will be a proclamation of profound love for his sweetheart, often in the form of a heart pierced with Cupid's arrow etched with the names of our very own Romeo-Juliet, or perhaps excerpts from an open love letter mostly ending with "I luv U". At times, you might discover a tourist's knowledge of human anatomy, especially genitalia. Whatever form it takes, there will always be an indelible mark of a tourist's courteous presence.

As you tear yourself away from these modern-day murals and advance towards the dark and begrimed rooms, you stagger under an olfactory assault. While the tourist guide narrates legendary tales of the fort and insists that you go deeper towards the corner to get a feel of the monument's earlier magnificence, all you can think of is the ammonia flooding your nostrils. And then it dawns on you. The ammoniac smell originates in the now-dry urine of those who came here before you. Maybe they just couldn't wait to use the public utilities just a few metres away from the site.

While government authorities take special care to place specific signboards instructing tourists to follow certain guidelines, the rebellious child sheltered within an adult mind immediately pops out to break rules. If the sign warns not to pluck flowers, somebody will pick their very own bouquet. In signboards apprising "Do not scribble on the walls", "not" will be scratched off. At places where "Do not touch the wet paint" is subscribed, impressions of palms like dirty X-ray bones will be imprinted forever. A "Photography Prohibited Area" will be illuminated by flashes from hidden mobile cameras and in all possibility, most selfies will be clicked in "Danger: Stay Away" zones.

There are other pastimes too. Visitors to heritage site seem to have a great proclivity for spitting out great gobs of reddish brown paan masala (tobacco) commixture freshly prepared in their mouths, staining the walls in a botched water-drop fashion. Noses are blown and mucus ejected at the mere hint of a scratchy nostril or throat. Such emergencies cannot be postponed until reaching a toilet or bin.

Nevertheless, whether these heritage buildings may or may not be human friendly, they are indeed the most serene abode to monkeys, cows, stray dogs, snakes and bats. The authorities also usually let them be, which is why we were shocked when recently the parliamentary standing committee banned the daily procession of some 150 buffaloes across East Gate and VIP Gate of the Taj Mahal in a concerted effort, fearing it could dirty a world heritage site (read, it could impede VIP visits).

And why just animals? The sequestered rooms, secluded gardens and dense bushes in the vicinity of old dilapidated monuments offer young couples a safe and secret dating place, where they can easily meet or mate, away from the eyes of a cynical society. "It must be a rabbit," you hurriedly tell children straining to see the cause of the commotion behind the rose bushes. Then for fear of causing embarrassment, you take a different route.

We hear that the recent earthquake in Nepal savaged many monuments of historical significance, and we once again paid tribute to their dear departed remains. Perhaps we didn't realise that whatever happened was just nature doing to them for one day, what we have been doing bit-by-bit for years now.

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[This post by the author was originally published on Huffington Post.
Incidentally, this  post also got chosen as best pick on Blogadda's "TANGY  TUESDAY" series. ]

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