Netaji ka beta ~ Ravneet Sangha

Reading Time: 2 minutes

I’ve decided I want to be a Netaji’s son. Forget going to college. I think Dad should just give up everything and he should be a politician. I get to do anything and everything, from beating engineers, to manhandling girls, to having my way with everyone and then going scot-free. I would have my posters on the poles of the bazaar. What is the point of slogging and studying and giving exams, my son asked me?

You get to have so much money, drive flashy cars, wear the biggest, flashiest watch, even if one checks the time on the mobile, but you always sport the Rolex or the Tag or whatever is trending. One wore tight kurta pyjamas in white and the hair was all set with gel looking like a rooster with shaved of sides. You also wore those big fat rapper style shades ( that is the word used for protective eyewear, in case you didn’t know). And one wore designer Ferragamos which cost more than the average yearly salary of an Indian. My son had a point, what is the point of struggling in a system that has lost its moral fibre and all that we try to do is do jugaad and make do with situations because of who you are, who you were born to, and what family you belonged along with the most important thing , what party did you belong to . And here, I was trying to impress upon them that agriculture is the way to go.

I had no answers. In a country where we idolise gundagardi, power is might and you have politicians justifying their wards, by saying that it is always circumstantial. From raping girls, who incited the boy, to accidents, the people just came in the way, to the latest in the long list of advantages.
It was seductive to be a politicians son. Everyone bent backwards to you, and it was assumed that the son would lead the legacy and the baton would be carried forward.

The songs, the cars, the SUV you drove, which should be bigger and better and the address where you lived all supported the biggest, exclusive industry. You just did everything, and the babu did salaam to you, and all rules were broken, bent or adjusted .. I guess we all are sleeping waiting to be jolted but we missed the spring revolution as the drought-like, no rain, non-existent groundwater has us all in tizzy temporarily. Do we all vote because the politicians deliver what they promise or because of the familiarity and we just choose him or her because we know them not caring what the character is?

Till then, I am still continuing to argue with my son.  And pulling rank.