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Dilip D'Souza

Pappu Makes A Friend

The other day, Pappu Sinha, cook who wants to be a film star, dropped in on a man who's been dead fifty years. As you might guess, it was a meeting to remember. Here's Pappu's recording of their conversation.

Pappu: I'm pleased to meet you, saheb, so pleased that I am going to ask you a favour right away. May I call you Mohan-bhai? There's a reason, you see...

Mohan-bhai: Of course, and you don't have to give me a reason.

Pappu: ... no, no, I want to, because it means something to me. You see, I never knew you well, Mohan-bhai. But from what I do know of you, there's one thing I've been kind of sure about. I always thought you were one important person who would not care how you were addressed. You would not care to surround your name with strings of little titles, as all those others seem to demand. You know -- Shri Sharadraoji, or Manyawar Shri Balasahebji, or that woman in Tamil Nadu, Saviour of Social Justice Puratchi Thalaivi Dr J Jayalalitha.

No, for you, just Mohandas; and because I find myself thinking of you as something of an older brother, I want to call you Mohan-bhai.

Mohan-bhai: Certainly; and what shall I call you then, little brother?

Pappu: Just Pappu will do fine. Everyone's always called me that.

Mohan-bhai: Well, Pappu, what brings you here today?

Pappu: You see, Bapuji, I mean Mohan-bhai -- those old habits die hard! -- it's now 50 years since you left us. Let me tell you the truth: nobody thinks of you much any more. Oh yes, we have your face on stamps, we have your statues everywhere, roads named after you. But those are just symbols. We hardly give much thought to you, you know? So since I was passing -- nice place you have here, by the way -- I thought I'd stop and ask you what you thought about that.

Mohan-bhai: Oh, I don't know, Pappu. Why should anybody think about me anyway? I mean, how many other people who died 50 years ago do you think about?

Pappu: Oh come on, you're just teasing me!

Mohan-bhai: No, but I'm quite serious. Why should anybody think about me today? Perhaps I had some relevance while the British were here. People sought me out, asked for my advice, discussed issues with me, I had some ideas and strategies to offer. I was a leader in those days. People wanted to hear what I had to say. Yes, it's true: then, people did think about me. But now? Today?

Pappu: So that's what I'm getting at, Mohan-bhai. What changed between then and now? I'll be more specific. In my school books, you were always described as a courageous man. Today, lots of my friends call you a meek coward. And Mohan-bhai, I find it hard to disagree when they say they are tired of your image. They say all that non-violence and giving was cowardly and brought India to its knees. This is why they don't want to hear about you any more. So why were you called so courageous, Mohan-bhai?

Mohan-bhai: Well, Pappu, maybe courage just isn't what it used to be! Those were different days. I did certain things because I thought they were the right thing to do, because I thought they would have a certain effect. I didn't do them because they would show how brave I was. I would have done them even if I had known your friends would call me a coward today. For better or worse, I did those things because I had to do them. Can you see that, little brother?

Pappu: Yes, but why all this about being meek?

Mohan-bhai: You've got me there, Pappu. See, I advocated non-violence as a political tool. What's more, against an enemy armed with every possible modern weapon -- OK, they didn't have those nuclear bombs you have now -- non-violence was the most powerful weapon available to me. I like to think it was more powerful than anything they had, effective above all.

Possibly, today, people have forgotten just how powerful, how effective it was. So they think ahimsa meant meekly lying down and taking all the abuse the British threw at us. Well, that must be cowardice then!

I know deep inside me that those men and women who stood up to British lathis -- you know, I still mourn my friend Lala Lajpat Rai who died of lathi blows in Lahore -- were the bravest souls in the world. I don't need to broadcast their courage: it's there for all to see. But if today they're called meek, who am I to argue? Maybe the time for their kind of courage is over.

Pappu: I think it is, Mohan-bhai.

Mohan-bhai: That's why I asked you, why should anybody think about me today?

Pappu: Mohan-bhai, you're getting me all confused! I thought I asked you that! Look, it's true times have changed. I think I follow your point about the political tool, and I understand what you say about courage. I know all that. But still, something keeps chewing my brain...

Mohan-bhai: What?

Pappu: ... sorry! That's a '90s kind of expression. I mean, I'm just a little bothered about something and I don't know exactly what it is. See, you fought the British. They committed all kinds of atrocities. They killed people, put them in jail, beat them up for trumped up reasons. They told lies and stole from us. They divided us, made us hate each other. Isn't that all true?

Mohan-bhai: Right, little brother. Go on.

Pappu: So today, we also have people who instigate all kinds of atrocities against us, we are killed and beaten up for no reason. They tell lies. They make us hate each other, divide us, steal from us, they are corrupt. In your time, it was the Britishers doing all this. Now, they are Indian. But other than that, what's the difference?

My friends and I, we think all our present rulers are disgraceful thieves. All of them. Now you fought the British and drove them out. How do we fight our rulers when they are also Indian? Where can we drive them out?

Mohan-bhai: I know what you're getting at, Pappu. When I was alive, the enemy was the outsider. That made it easier for us, I think, than what you're talking about. But what do you want from me, a plan to get rid of your oppressors?

Pappu: Please, yes, Mohan-bhai!

Mohan-bhai: Sorry, I can't give you that, Pappu. I can only say, remembering my own experience, that you have to find your political tool. Your powerful, effective weapon. It may not be non-violence, it may be something else entirely -- I trust it won't be the nuclear bomb! -- but you have to find it. Ahimsa worked for our struggle because we thought hard about it, then picked it as a very deliberate strategy. We believed in it. You must do the same.

Pappu: But that's hardly an answer!

Mohan-bhai: But it's all I have, and actually I think it is an answer. Let's see, Pappu, what are your concerns today about the country?

Pappu: Well, Mohan-bhai, one thing is this Hindu-Muslim hatred that won't go away. Yes, yes, there was all that trouble at Partition. But it does not affect me today, I think I know that, and anyway I was born well after Partition. So why do I feel this hatred for Muslims, why do I feel they are hostile towards me? Why do our leaders keep this hatred going? Wherever I turn, they're doing it. That Advani, Thackeray, Rao, everybody, and that Imam and the mullahs on their side too.

Then I worry about this corruption. I paid one rupee extra for my meal on the train coming here, you know? When I asked the man why he was taking one more rupee, he asked me: "When Narasimha Rao took so much, why do you grudge me one miserable rupee?" It's true, why should I grudge it to him? At least he gave me my lunch. I had to pay a bribe for my ticket, but at least I got it. These leaders, they take the money and nothing gets done. The country is so poor, but they live like maharajas! I think they live like the British whom you threw out.

So what do I do about all this?

Mohan-bhai: I think you should start by looking at yourself, Pappu. You paid the bribe. Why? You see, it works both ways. Just as the man in the train says it's OK to take a rupee more because Rao took so much, Rao can take money illegally because everybody gives and takes bribes. When you give a bribe so easily, Pappu, there's a kind of climate that builds up in which Rao takes bribes easily. I'm not saying you are at fault, I'm saying: ask yourself about that bribe.

Similarly, leaders can keep the Hindu-Muslim hatred going as long as you keep that hatred in your mind. Of course, they fan it. But they would not be able to do it if you tried to root out the hatred. Ask yourself why you hate them, little brother -- I think you are already doing that -- and whether it really makes sense. There need not be love between you and Muslims, but you can speak to each other, understand each other, live together.

Pappu: I think I understand, Mohan-bhai. But where's the political tool?

Mohan-bhai: But that's the political tool! When you ask these questions of yourself, you're automatically going to be asking them of the leaders. When you do not bribe, when you try not to hate, you automatically weaken them.

That was the reason for, the lesson of, ahimsa: it undermined the British.

Pappu: Hmmm. I'm confused again, Mohan-bhai, but it's getting clearer. You mean to say that if I set a standard for myself, that becomes a weapon I can use?

Mohan-bhai: Yes indeed, Pappu! If you'll allow me my own '90s expression -- I'm not so far behind the times, you see -- "you got it, dude!"

Pappu: OK, Mohan-bhai. Thanks for the chat, now I've got to go. See you again, maybe when I'm next passing. Just what is this nice place called, anyway?

Mohan-bhai: Oh, we like to call it "The Looking Glass." Go well, little brother.

Dilip D'Souza