Queen Elizabeth famously described 1992 as her ‘annus horribilis’, which is Latin for a horrible year. Some cruel Republican wags called it ‘Her Majesty’s bum year’, because in that one year, she saw the marriage of her first-born son and heir to the British throne, Prince Charles, to the beautiful Princess Diana break up, leading to a huge dip in popularity ratings for the royal family. As if this weren’t enough, a devastating fire gutted the historic Windsor Castle, among her most favourite properties and a national treasure. Few will forget the grim Queen, her head covered by a scarf, gazing sadly at the debris of the monument that seemed to reflect her own life at that moment.
Perhaps we can also begin to think of dubbing 2020 as a collective ‘annus horribilis’ for all of us on this planet. No one in this generation remembers another one like it, as grim data is reeled out daily about the mounting deaths and the end of the world as we knew it until a few months ago. Enough has been written about the plight of the unemployed and the poor, so none of us will ever be able to forget the heart-rending sight of long lines of migrants, trudging on highways and sleeping on railway tracks with their little children and pitiful belongings. Nor will we ever forget the ugliness of those who have shown such indifference and callousness to fellow humans wherever in the world they may be. For those of us born after the Partition, it is like a re-run. I doubt if anyone will forget this year that has brought so much misery to so many.
Yet, we cannot also forget how miraculously the planet healed itself as human beings stopped all those activities that have destroyed the harmony of nature. The sight of the magnificent Dhauladhar range, visible after decades from Jalandhar, the pristine blue waters of the Ganga, cleansed of its pollutant industrial and human waste, the heart-warming sight of animals reclaiming their lost world, snatched away by ruthless development — all these and more are equally worth remembering. It now remains to be seen which world we will choose to occupy and build when this scourge is finally over and we can resume our broken lives. If the unruly and jostling mobs outside our thekas were anything to go by, I suspect we will slip back to the life that we should seriously give up. I am an eternal optimist but sometimes even I begin to wonder whether we will really learn some lessons from this pandemic.
If it were up to me, I would declare a worldwide lockdown once a year for a month so that the planet can heal itself. It took Nature just a month to regain its equipoise, how long will it take us? Sometimes when human greed crosses the boundaries of good behaviour, Nature takes over to show them who really owns the planet and what will live on long after you and I are gone.
This may sound like pop-philosophy, but reflect for a moment on how many dear friends and relatives we have seen die and been helpless as we couldn’t attend their last rites. How many homeless people have lost not just their livelihoods but even the will to live — and you will agree that it is time for politicians everywhere to stop throwing blame and playing politics even on an occasion as this. It sickens me when I hear and see them exchange insults or shed crocodile tears over the plight of migrants without lifting a finger to help in any meaningful way. Is this responsible behaviour and do they even deserve to be called our representatives? I have written countless columns but the warmth that my piece on the Sikh community received has taken me by surprise. So many friends, non-Sikhs, mind you, have said they heartily agree. What the Sikhs have shown all armchair philosophers and our lofty academics is simply that they follow their religion in their life in a way that no other community has done. And even if they do not spout wisdom on our TV screens every night, they have learnt well the lessons their Gurus taught them.
Behind all the bombast about India becoming a Vishwaguru and the constant harking back to our glorious past is the reality that we have betrayed the wisdom of our own religions. Mere recitation of Sanskrit mantras, as the great Shankaracharya said, is not going to grant absolution. But who remembers him or Swami Vivekanand or even the wise Sufi saints who lived and died by the doctrine of love for all? Even the West has forgotten Jesus, who pulled down a temple saying to the greedy Pharisees (ancient Jews) that they had converted His father’s house into a commercial place.
Behind every politician I see the unseen presence of their real image which, like Banquo’s ghost, hovers more prominently than their earnest advice. I hope they realise that you can fool some of the people for some of the time, but not all the people all of the time.