BackMinority Report | Death of the red beacon
Let’s not be too hasty in expecting a quick death for Delhi’s VIP culture
Premium
It was a group of five. They came wearing green sterile masks to browse and shop at one of Delhi’s most awaited annual sales.
The swine flu alert had clearly grabbed their attention, but not enough to deter them from avoiding crowds at a store which, when it puts on a sale, gets queues long and snaky enough to make you wonder if the goods are going for peanuts. Once inside the store, the family pulled down their masks to look at the wares. I didn’t understand why they wore these masks if they had to only pull them down just like people flick back a pair of sunglasses when they step indoors. Didn’t the masks have another purpose besides socially branding them as health freaks?
In the next 30 minutes, when I saw them fretting in the queue to make their payment, cursing the rush and the paucity of payment desks while asking the billing clerks to give them priority over the other shoppers, I sniffed tendencies of “VIP culture". It’s been a long-afflicting, grave epidemic in Delhi. Asking for favours, school and college admissions, jobs, breaking queues, red lights and wait lists for reservations or making excuses for robbing other people of their rights because of a sense of self-importance has been a part of the Delhi culture.
I am so and so. I am related to so and so. I know everything, don’t teach me your rules. I am a frequent flyer. I have a premium card. What horrible food, go call the chef. I am ill. I am travelling with children. It’s my dad’s car, don’t ask me about the pollution certificate. My dad went to college with the minister. I will break the queue, but not flush the public toilet. I need to get off the plane before others, I have an important meeting...We are so used to a litany of such expressions, certainly in everyday life in Delhi, that we have almost learnt to live with it, even if grudgingly. If not, then walk around in anger and resentment. Worse, we become like our tormentors—doing exactly what we resent them for.
This may be an Indian mentality, especially among the privileged classes, stemming from a loose view on the importance of being important. It has also become synonymous with red beacons and VIP movement-created traffic jams. On an NDTV news programme, the channel’s head, Prannoy Roy, labelled VIP culture as an Indian typicality, saying it is prevalent only in our country. That’s why its visual vocabulary is synonymous with certain behaviours.
I am beginning to connect its direct correlation with two different sets of reasons. One is that Indians, as a society, are in awe of braggarts, and the working classes are used to be thrown aside by anyone with just half a powerful connection. The disempowered Indian is easy to boss over. But the other reason is the pervading denial of facilities, services, social comforts, the overall disrespect of law and the constant stress in the Indian way of life to not get what a government owes you. Marinate this with the way the VIPs—among them assorted politicians, business tycoons and celebrities of various kinds—behave with disregard for rules, social courtesies and even the law—and you have the VIP culture. It then seeds mistrust, scorn, envy and anger to such an extent that it provokes a ripple effect. So when you see a seemingly healthy middle-aged woman walking perfectly normally just a few minutes ago take the option of a wheelchair to skip the airport queue, you flare up at the unfairness. That’s what I did while taking a flight out of Delhi. I raved and ranted at an airline representative for not having a clear mandate on who needs physical assistance and insisted on meeting an airport official and pulled out my press card for “priority of attention". I did exactly what I had set out to oppose.
So when new debates suggest Delhi is on the cusp of some kind of a change, that the “AAP" culture has begun rubbing off on us—indicated by the mandate for Arvind Kejriwal and his Aam Aadmi Party (AAP)—I would say it’s too soon to write its obituary. Kejriwal may or not use “Z" category security or hold up traffic for VIP movement. He may detest the red beacon on top of the official car, but the death of “special treatment" will come only with a better balance in our lives as citizens. Can we negotiate our gas connections, driving licences, insurance policies, passport renewals, pension schemes, or expect faster responses when services break down? Can we get a table at a special restaurant without throwing our weight, our business card? Until ordinary citizens can get good hospital care without a recommendation or a watchman is given the same privilege as an officer when it comes to public services, VIP culture will remain seeded. Kejriwal may have more on his hand than just refusing special privileges himself or switching off the beacon.
Unlock a world of Benefits! From insightful newsletters to real-time stock tracking, breaking news and a personalized newsfeed – it's all here, just a click away! Login Now!
