Beyond Shelf-Life

`Let me serve the public for a few more years', the reporter can barely decipher, through an educated guess,  what this once-eminent orator-politician is whispering hoarsely, hampered by ill-health.  The former was granted a thirty second interview with the ailing leader. The guardians of the party shrewdly concluded that anything longer would expose the all-chinks-no-armour condition of the leader and the reporter too was hoping only to confirm that the leader was breathing still. The leader's verbal output is an incomprehensible jumble of sibilants and plain hot air, mingling with strong vapours of onion and garlic from the breakfast. Lip movement is of scant help in determining what he intends to convey.  The attendant, who is the seventy year old son of the elder statesman and a frustrated and desperate forever-waiting-in-the-wings-leader himself, smiles broadly and almost triumphantly; all eagerness, he asserts that the `leader is as clear in his thinking and lucid in communication today as he was ten years back'.  The reporter cannot recall it being this bad a decade ago and it was a major disaster then.  But though aghast, he wisely decides against any contradiction, minding his own physical welfare.

The nonagenarian leader has lived the last twenty years of his life, vaguely recognizing only silhouettes of even elephants brought by sycophantic followers to garland him, from time to time.  Being the original visionary, he has been able to rule his kingdom, using the eyes of lesser human beings -a la Dridhirashtra- around him.  The only saving grace is that his hearing faculty still remains excellent, as evidenced by the fact that he recently expelled three unsuspecting and indiscreet minions from the party because they were heard, at a reasonable distance but within his earshot, discussing the consequences to the party when `the great leader' kicked the bucket.  And the Policy Making Committee had promptly and jubilantly decided the next day that equipped with just that single ability in an otherwise severely disabled physique, the leader can run the party and possibly the government for the next five years; some brainless pollyannas hoped for ten, driven by their extreme anxiety about being swept prematurely into political wilderness. All because the leader has been the lone vote-catcher for 60 years for the languishing party, which was thrashed badly in the last election.

Sounds very familiar in the Indian context??  One can be sure that there are about ten politicians like this in every state, one for each party, holding forth from a wheelchair, kept alive by an expensive and state-of-the-art artificial support system funded by the government when the leader was in power.  Well, may be somewhat exaggerated,  but not a lot.  Why are we so fond of keeping such half-dead political leaders in the limelight, way beyond their shelf life??  Is it because we do not have good substitutes?  Certainly not.  The reason is more like the inability of the subsequent generations to dislodge the old bandicoots, who have tasted blood and want to perpetuate their stronghold.  And the rather insecure and less confident younger politicians are mortally afraid of an abrupt collapse of their own political world if the wily old foxes withdraw intentionally or otherwise, which again is a state of mind carefully created and nurtured by the senior leaders for their own benefit.  This explains why sixty year olds are considered `young blood' in most parties in India and we have seventy year old debutant ministers in governments.

But what is even more puzzling is that politics in not the only domain wherein this phenomenon is uniquely manifest.  Take the music industry for example.  One should be amazed by every upcoming playback singer and music director, in clear displays of utter sycophancy towards an eighty year old singer who was an undisputed queen-bee earlier, exhorting her to keep `those superb melodies' flowing for ever. When, in reality, she can barely hold her voice steady for a chit-chat.  No doubt, she is a legend, has an absolutely enviable body of work done over 50 years and completely deserves to be deified.  But is that a good enough justification for her to have continued singing odd songs in a shaking voice, which does not even have a vague resemblance to the melodious one of her heydays, trembling and croaking her way through a few lines of lyric??  Pitiably, when you hear the recent numbers of this lady, you actually get so offended that you dont even want to listen to all those fascinating songs of yore.  Being such a good musician, it is not as if this lady cannot tell the difference between what she was and what she is now.  So, why does she inflict this on herself and others, knowing fully well that she is well past her sell-by-date??  Can't she see that a dignified and complete exit to the sidelines, where she can truly bathe in the glory of being a great mentor or a guiding spirit, is probably going to serve her interests better, with all that glorious work standing her in good stead?

What about Sports?  Cricket, specifically? Some astute and perceptive cricketers who have served the country with great distinction, seem to have kept their fingers on the pulse of their careers and timed their retirements so exquisitely that people are left wondering `A pity; he could have played for a couple of years more'.  This has happened twice in the past year and our respect for such individuals has not diminished one bit even though they wont be in the limelight as players.  And then we have this demi god of a cricketer, who has always struck you as a wise and dignified individual all through his career, deciding to hang around even after he has himself admitted that `not much cricket is left in him'.  His recent performance has been up and down by his own high standards and his fan following has plummeted a bit.  One heard clear murmurs of `isn't it time for retirement' in the public domain; something that was anathema just a year back is being aired freely now.  But he hangs on - God only knows for what! Money or TV time or fame cannot be the reason because he has seen it all and must be beyond all that.  Loving cricket cannot be the only reason because a lot of people love cricket.   He may still score a couple of centuries and send unadulterated fans into raptures, but is it worth the risk of being lowered a few notches from being the game's presiding deity to just another great player?  One cannot fathom this at all.

And then, we had that rather unedifying spectacle of two ageing tennis players with bloated egos, repeatedly getting into public spats, culminating in an ugly showdown regarding selection for Olympics.  A lot of dirty linen was washed in public and that served only to divide even the players, while considerably dimming the aura of success that shone on these two individuals, thanks to their significant achievements in doubles play, never before witnessed among Indian players.  Could these two have gracefully given way to younger players earlier and avoided all this muck?

Certainly such specimens abound in other spheres too.  It looks like India suffers from this syndrome, despite the fact that we have our population coming out of nooks and crannies and youngsters are snapping at the heels of the earlier generation in all facets of life.   It would be nice to see the oldies, however great they have been, willingly and happily getting out of the way a bit earlier and actively mentoring youngsters who can take over the mantle eventually.  Think about it; innumerable gifted teachers have done exactly that, all through the ages.  But then those teachers did not really bask in the glory called limelight, I guess.  Is that the difference??