Who is your hero?!?

Who is your hero?

THIS is not a question to be trifled with. It is by no means an inane query that is the exclusive domain of a beauty pageant.

It is in fact a question that merits deep introspection, because behind its innocuous facade, it hides, to some degree, the answer to that eternal question ‘who am I?’ It is the embodiment of what we are, of what we want to be.

A hero – someone admired, adulated, revered, emulated. If one could be close to what his hero is at some point in his life, he’d reckon, he’d done a rather good job in the one shot at that roller coaster ride that we call life.

More often than not, it is not the person, but a particular trait or facet that allures us, that stands out, that to us maketh the man. And that, more than anything else is indicative of what we truly treasure, the personification of what we have grown to value.

So next time someone asks you this question, beware the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

I was asked this question once, to which I honestly answered I’d have to think about it. Thus started my search.

It was something I read about a year ago that rudely interrupted this incessant quest, that made me sit up and take notice. When I read of it, it struck a deep chord.

RECAP – A while back there was this story of a man called Gopichand (I confess his first name eludes me at the moment) who had been offered an undisclosed, but I gather a rather large sum of money to advertise for a cola. (He had just won a very important badminton tournament) it went on to say that he politely turned them down, citing something about it being harmful to kids.

I had found my hero.

Here is a man, who in this day and age when people would sell their souls, even their mothers, for the right price. Here is a man who refused to do a 30-second spot with a bottle of cola in his hand for a sum, which I dare say, would probably amount to a large fraction of his career earnings. All for something he believed in, for some principles he stood by. Who does that!!?

This man was either incredibly stupid or, deserving of that word that gets trashed around all the time- Great. Great in every sense. I settled on the latter (no one could be that stupid!!)

This man is truly a diamond in the rough, a beacon. He has, in his own unassuming way become an inspiration, a testament to the fact that the most difficult of feats is not impossible to achieve.

A man who refuses to be solicited, who lets no man put a price on that most valuable of assets – ones integrity.

May his tribe increase.

Every night before I sleep, I pray to god. I ask him for two things, the second of which is to help me be a better person tomorrow. And if I, someday find myself standing at a fork, as Mr. Gopichand once did, and I choose to walk down that hallowed path that he chose, that path so few have ever tread, ill know that my prayers were answered.



I shall be telling this with a sigh,
Somewhere ages and ages hence,
Two roads diverged in a wood and,
I took the one less traversed by,
And that has made all the difference.

- Robert Frost

Reservations for OBCs in educational institutes

In the very recent past a lot of furore has been in evidence due to the reservation hike in certain educational institutes.

In the opinion of a middle class, 'general quota youth', who stands to be largely affected by this piece of legislation – 2 important issues arise from his:

1) The merit Vs quota argument (as reams of space has been dedicated to this issue, I will desist from adding to it at this point)
2) Why this piece of legislation has come about.

I strongly believe that the proponents, in fact even the beneficiaries of the hike will be hard pressed to suitably justify a 50% reservation, 25 – 30% one can live with, albeit uncomfortably, but 50%! Then why one must consider have the representatives of the people, the legally appointed voices of you and me, approved a step that could have potentially catastrophic consequences (Read, for you and me).

Yes, one mustn’t forget in our fit of rage, in our incessant quest for a scapegoat, that the Parliament of India has okayed this move, and with an overwhelming majority I might add. Thus the ultimate responsibility, most inconveniently, rests with us - the voting public.

Just the other day I received, along with the majority of the mobile phone totting student population of Delhi - a frantic call to arms, an appeal to join the people of India (read affected parties), in protesting, at Jawaharlal Nehru stadium this most vile and contemptible breach of public trust and morality.

It is heartening to see this Rang de Basantian attitude towards our lives and the people and events that affect it. As Elie Wiesel famously remarked – “There are times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.”

Having said that, it is my belief that the proposed instrument of protest is incorrect.

Many times we see the writing on the wall, but we just assume it is addressed to someone else. –
Our current situation is a classic example of this prophetic statement.

The writing on the wall:

VOTER TURNOUT: 55%
MIDDLE CLASS URBAN VOTER TURNOUT: 30%
SC/ST/OBC VOTER TURNOUT: 70%

(All figs. are approximate, source from the Tribune)


And believe me when I say, it is addressed to us.
Today you and me are a non-entity, it is for this reason, and this reason alone, that this sorry situation has come to pass.

The solution:
In my humble opinion, if there is one thing good that can be said about the powers that be – it is that you can safely bet your house that they will do that which is in their interests. a.k.a. ‘kursi bachana’ (this generalization in no way seeks to malign an often unfairly maligned group of legislators, but is more a reflection of society today)

Yet it is in this most simple of certainties that lies the path to empowerment and ‘making that difference’.

Which brings me to my premise:
All the rallies, petitions, media frenzy, debates, ‘big fights’ self immolations or whatever other form of protest being employed are at best a poor substitute for that most powerful of weapons – an ink mark on your finger.

All the protests are meaningless if the powers that be are confident that come election day you will be enjoying your holiday in the company of the latest blockbuster rather than queuing up to exercise your franchise.

It is this one act that makes us significant, that gives us the power to make a difference. Yet that very cynical but still popular response to voting continues to be “their all crooks.”

To that I say, so be it, still vote for the least successful louse of the lot. If you can’t take the effort to read the manifesto, calculate socio-economic considerations, scrutinize declarations, analyze past records and personal information – Don’t!

Use “inky pinky ponky” when you reach the booth, but for heavens sake press that button, any button. This may sound like a grotesque travesty of our fundamental duty, undoubtedly, it is. But in no way does it compare to the enormous disservice we do our country (read ourselves) by not getting our name on that list. Because when you push that button, you cease to become a non-entity, you no longer are a faceless citizen who does not demand and therefore does not deserve. You by this most seemingly insignificant of actions transform into a person to be revered, one who cannot be trifled with or taken for granted.

They say you can get a horse to do the tango, all you need is a cattle prod to his rear. We have been given just that by our constitution, yet we have failed miserably to use it. And those who have realized the importance of this instrument have utilized it to the fullest and are the ones today who are reaping its benefits.

We have to admit we are a selfish people, and until something is bound to affect us, “chalta hai,” the very edifice on which this great country survives, and I dare say prospers, will continue to be our mantra. This perceived injustice has given us a reason be indignant, to feel cheated and betrayed, let this galvanize us to act proactively and thus effectively make that difference.