 EXTRACT The Penumbrates On the shining flanks of New India, its poverty is a tableau of reflections To make Delhi a world-class city for the 2010 Commonwealth Games, laws were passed that made the poor vanish, like laundry stains. Street vendors disappeared, rickshaw-pullers lost their licences, small shops and businesses were shut down. Beggars were rounded up, tried by mobile magistrates in mobile courts and dropped outside the city limits. The slums that remained were screened off, with vinyl billboards that said DELHIciously Yours. New kinds of policemen patrolled the streets, better armed, better dressed and trained not to scratch their privates in public, no matter how grave the provocation. There were cameras everywhere, recording everything. *** Two young criminals carrying a kind of behaviour which was unacceptable to modern cities escaped the police dragnet, and approached a woman sandwiched between her sunglasses and the leather seats of her shiny car at a traffic crossing. Shamelessly, they demanded money. The woman was rich and kind. The criminals' heads were no higher than her car window. Their names were Rukmini and Kamli. Or maybe Mehrunissa and Shahbano. (Who cares?) The woman gave them money and some motherly advice. Ten rupees to Kamli (or Shahbano). "Share it," she told them, and sped away when the lights changed. Rukmini and Kamli (or Mehrunissa and Shahbano) tore into each other like gladiators, like lifers in a prison yard. Each sleek car that flashed past them, and almost crushed them, carried the reflection of their battle, their fight to the finish, on its shining door. Eventually, both girls disappeared without a trace, like thousands of children do in Delhi. The Games were a success. *** Two months later, on the sixty-second anniversary of India becoming a Republic, the armed forces showcased their new weapons at the Republic Day parade. Russian multi-barrel rocket launchers, combat aircraft, light helicopters and underwater weapons for the navy. The new T-90 battle tank was called Bhishma. (The older one was Arjun.) Varunastra was the name of the latest heavyweight torpedo, and Mareech was a decoy system to seduce incoming torpedoes. (Hanuman and Vajra are the names painted on the armoured vehicles that patrol Kashmir's frozen streets.) That the names were drawn from Hindu epics was just a coincidence. If India is a Hindu nation, it's only an accident. Dare Devils from the Army's Corps of Signals rode motorcycles in a rocket formation. Then they formed a cluster of flying birds and finally a human pyramid. Overhead, Sukhoi fighter jets made a trishul, a trident in the sky. Each jet cost more than a billion rupees. Four billion then, for Shiva's Trident. The thrilled crowd turned its face up to the weak winter sun and applauded. High in the sky, the winking silver sides of the jets carried the reflection of Rukmini's and Kamli's (or Mehrunissa's and Shahbano's) fight to the death. The army band played the national anthem. The President drew the pallu of her sari over her head and took the salute. Introduction from Broken Republic by Arundhati Roy, Penguin, Rs 499 FILED IN: AUTHORS: ARUNDHATI ROY BOOKS BY: ARUNDHATI ROY TAGS: POVERTY | RURAL INDIA | URBAN INDIA | MIGRANTS-OUTSIDERS | MIGRATION-MOBILITY |COMMONWEALTH GAMES SECTION: BOOKS SUBSECTION: EXTRACTS PLACES: DELHI |
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