Walking the New Walk, with Rahul Gandhi
Every historic protest for equality and progress, whether USA's BLM or India's Dandi march, gained momentum through fierce footfalls. But do all walks talk the same talk?
Do you know what my favourite physical activity is? No, I am not good at any sport whatsoever. No, I do not hit the gym (ugh). No, I do not practice calisthenics.
All I do is go for a walk.
A simple, straightforward walk on the roads to drink that crisp morning air that I just don’t get enough of, as I’m shut in the whole day.
Walking is great. Walking is fun. Walking is what we are meant to do. Great things have happened when humans have stepped out. That very first step defined our bipedalism, started the pack hunt, sowed the seeds of agriculture, kilned the first brick, dug out canals, erected sentry towers, carved out civilizations on the banks of great rivers, cracked the physics and biochemistry of nature, waged endless wars, ignited protests for independence, and even left a sizeable imprint on the moon. One giant leap for mankind, as Armstrong said.
That stride continues to this day.
For it is in the same spirit that Rahul Gandhi, the frontman of the band called Indian National Congress and its coalition INDIA bloc, has started his second walk. This time, it’s a giant leap for voter rights.
Except . . . well . . . Mr. Gandhi, you see, I have a problem with the semantics of your showmanship.
Fair warning: I neither side with the BJP nor with the Congress. Both are hawks, or koels as you’ll see, waiting to steal morsels from Indians. I certainly do not see eye to eye with the round table of “yessers” (who themselves have acted in bad faith against Indians) around the family hegemony that dominates the INDIA bloc. So, don’t come at me with any underhanded rhetoric of BJP- or Congress-biased outlooks. We’re talking about walking here. Not walking about talking.
One Giant Leap
Oh, I love this part! Walk a little with me here.
The root for the word that means to travel on foot, walken, emerges from the marriage and semantic shift of two verbs: wealcan (“to toss, roll, or move around” in Old English) and wealcian (“to roll up, curl” in the same language). These, in turn, derive from a Proto-Germanic word that also lends to valka (“to drag about” in Old Norse) and a smattering of other words in Scandinavian and the Low Countries (modern-day Netherlands, for example).
Why am I talking about this? You see, to take a walk that’s aimed at challenging the notoriety around voting fraud—a bomb that Rahul Gandhi was roosting on for some time—has to have some historical significance. However, I do feel that Congress’s PR team looked at the word and, unbeknownst to them, did a semantic unshift.
Because the word “Yatra” (lit. “journey”) in “Voter Adhikar Yatra” (lit. “voter’s rights march”) is doing the heavy lifting here. This word, with which you and I often associate an escapade to a local hangout, another state’s glorious heritage, Goa, or greener grass overseas, has been stretched thin to also wrap under its wingspan a march.
Yeah, yeah, I know that “yatra” has an agreed-upon usage to mean a march. But is this second flagship Rahul Gandhi protest really a march? Because from what I see, they’re aiming to toss and drag their feet about to create friction among the people. Some might say it’s how you create a noise to disrupt the norm and bring about change. I say yes. Marches have been central to outpouring protests even in contemporary times.
But the INC doesn’t care about change. What they’re doing is not too different from what they did in the previous PR-worthy march: rile the masses.
Worn Out Soles
Many winters ago, I remember spotting an Indian White-Eye on a clear March morning, a pretty little passerine, planting its feet precariously on a meek branch of the Pipal tree. The Ficus religiosa, bursting full with its tiny fruits, was perfect for the morning pecker.
The white-eye had finally settled on a branch unmarred by other fruit pickers. But what it failed to spot was a shadow looming over it. The tree was thick with fresh leaves of spring, and on a bough above the white-eye, they provided cover to an Indian Koel. The ever-rapacious bird, a male this one, didn’t hesitate to jump down in a flutter of shadowy wings, making the white-eye scamper away in fear and engulfing the ripe fruits under its feathers.
I observed this entire BBC-like wildlife documentary with a disembodied Attenborough narration playing in my mind. Then, I carried on with my breakfast.
Seeing this fresh squabble over voter fraud is hauntingly reminiscent of the drama that played out between the white-eye and the koel. The only difference? A mutated scene: The meek white-eye is the general public; the fig-like fruit is a sensational issue (this time, voting fraud); the shifty koel is Rahul Gandhi, the INDIA bloc, and the BJP hurling quick counters; and the sacred fig tree is the political battleground of India.
It was only half a month ago when Mr. Gandhi came out with the metaphorical atom bomb, headlining the news of voter fraud in Karnataka, which the INC investigated on its own. Now, with BJP’s own Anurag Thakur chiming in on voter fraud, but with a communal angle, there is a new player in the crowd. The Election Commission did come out with a rather paper-fed message that reads more like a voter's responsibility to uncover this tug-of-war. The white-eye disenfranchised voter has been riled up in the drama.
Could it have happened? Probably, probably not. On this sacred fig tree, I’ve got my own problems to walk to: corporate offices to shuffle with, market prices to shufti at before making a purchase, government premises to shimmy through while dodging a pit of bureaucracy.
What I find appalling is the Asian koel persona of Mr. Gandhi jumping from one branch to the next in search of the juiciest morsel while making others scamper away.
Why am I just going after him? In his allegations to the Electoral Commission, his silhouette was reminiscent of a man coming fresh off a similar framework in the United States. It’s the same man whose country Mr. Gandhi regularly visits to talk ill of his own nation and its people, a man whose words he swallows to chokehold the Parliament into inaction while doubting the Indian Army, a man whose opinions he testifies as news, bankrupting India of its economic growth.
And yet, of all the marches that could have been, he stirs another to cry for the people. Feels a bit derivative . . . plagiarised, even. But what should we expect from the Gandhi family? They plagiarised that last name, and now they aim to plagiarise the Satyagraha movement from the owner of that last name.
In all this bird-beaked, fruit-frenzy that comes and goes more frequently than India’s monsoons, the whites of my eyes feel weary. I think I’ll turn my attention to breakfast once again and then go out for a walk.
