Does this country belong to you?

As Indians, we become conveniently blind, dumb and deaf in some situations. Representation pic

Someone I went to school with recently sent me a message on WhatsApp about how we should be wary of enemies within our borders. The implication was subtle, hinting at how anyone who doesn't belong to a particular school of thought or belief must inadvertently have sympathies for countries other than India. I am not sure what kind of response my former classmate expected from me, or why he chose to send me that inane piece of information, because I blocked him seconds after my phone pinged.

Not long after this interaction, a group of men made it a point to denounce a specific community in public, making sure video footage of their communal act was broadcast freely, safe in the knowledge that bigotry is now an acceptable way of life in our dubious new version of India. What they did should have been treated as an insult to us all, because they deliberately maligned everything our country stands for. Instead, we swallowed this insult as if it didn't matter and chose to go about our business. We did this because if something doesn't affect us directly, it is easier for us to let someone else deal with the problem. What we have failed to notice, unfortunately, is that there doesn't really seem to be anyone in the driver's seat anymore. What appears to be someone else's problem has already pulled us into its orbit.

I don't know whom India belongs to anymore. I used to assume it belonged to anyone and everyone who was born here, because I had no reason not to take that simple fact for granted. That certainty no longer exists, not only because people I thought I knew have changed, but because institutions I once assumed would stand up for the rights of citizens have begun to slip into the shadows.

Think about what it takes for a group of people to brazenly threaten violence in what is supposed to be a democratic country. This is a place built upon a premise, an idea of equality, where everyone who subscribes to it is supposed to be treated with the same measure of respect. We know this isn't possible, of course, because no country capable of inventing a caste system can ever be counted upon to understand what equality means. Until now, though, a significant number of us still naively continued to believe we had voices that would be heard, in the event of us being called upon to use them. That belief, for me, was washed away in the aftermath of that video going viral.

We have a habit of sitting back and waiting for things to resolve themselves as if by magic. We expect Gods and Goddesses to step in and sweep us to safety, removing obstacles and making our paths smooth. This apathy defines who we are and reveals itself whenever there is a catastrophe of some kind because, for every person who rushes to help, there will be a hundred others standing around and gawking. It probably explains why so many of us choose to look the other way when a handful of us raise the spectre of violence, too. We stay away because we believe it doesn't affect us; because we happen to be temporary members of a side that has been deemed safe. We fail to imagine the possibility of those tables turning rapidly, plunging us all into an abyss where nothing and no one is safe. We condone the presence of monsters until they turn to swallow us, by when it is too late.

Friends of mine flooded their social media pages with images of India's Olympic winners for days after the event ended. They put up status messages about how they had goosebumps when strains of the national anthem began pouring from their television screens. They applauded in their living rooms and wiped away tears of happiness. Politicians came out of hiding to offer gifts, jobs, and congratulations to those athletic men and women who had brought us all glory. None of these people said a word just a few days later. Not one of them condemned those men in Delhi who openly attacked the idea of India.
I have no intention of celebrating India's Olympic wins, or its rapidly shrinking list of accomplishments in every field. The India I wanted to celebrate has been ignored and cast aside, replaced by one where bigots masquerade as leaders and condone every act of prejudice by choosing to say nothing.

When he isn't ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He tweets @lindsaypereira
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The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper