‘Social Distancing’: A Well-Crafted Stratagem to Cordon off the Exiling Horde

                                                      (Pic Courtesy: Google Images)

I pen this piece not to find fault with the Governments both in the center and the states, or about the right wing or the left-wing political figures who have played ample roles in inflicting miseries after miseries to the soul of the Nation. It is neither about Mr. Modi; an example par excellence of being a persona non grata nor the Biblical scale sufferings he has inflicted, yet again, on the people who blindly trusted his charisma. This is not about the apparently elected and reelected politicians with the rictus of arrogance stretched across their faces. This is not about the inept judges who dared to throw away the moral compass in the arid deserts of ambitions and personal gains. It is also not about the bureaucrats who shamelessly engage in Faustian bargain, forgetting their sacred duties to stand for the truth. It is not about the biased media, ever ready to feed on the offal of nasty politics for a high rating. I am tired of slinging mud at them, a sense of revulsion and restiveness has already crept into me with the imposed masks of personal protection and social distancing.

This piece is rather about my experience of the prick of conscience, a burden of shame that has been loaded onto my back ever since the advent of this pandemic. This load of shame has been hurting me badly with a tinge of regret of being a slothful middle-class citizen. The pandemic Covid-19 has been a serious reason for worry, of course for all around the world. Just like any other concerned citizen of the country, I too feel the extreme need to curb the rampant outbreak of the virus. But the glaring contrast in the safety available between the exiling horde and me as a representative of the privileged class, play as a bone of contention in the abode of my conscience. My gullible conscience forces me to choose the well fenced mansion to ward off the impending threat while refraining from being a succorer to the needy, specially the people on foot, the only luxury they can afford at the moment. I hang my head in shame before the broken feet of the people in exile. Am I not a prisoner in my ivory tower of safety which is granted to me by someone else’s merit? Every hapless citizen of India who has ventured to plunge into to such an uncertain voyage to the safety of their far away homes drags me to the court of my conscience.

I never dared to raise a clarion call to alert the respective authorities to safeguard the interest of the less privileged. Rather, I found myself safe in the four walls of my mansion ironically built by the same horde in exile and owned by me the so-called privileged individual. My claim for safety was a clear sign of vaunt born out of my transient life here on earth. It was ridiculous from my side to disregard the cry of the people who were forced to exile into the world of qualms. When the lethal Corona virus hit the world at an alarming pace and the course of the events unfolded gradually, I busied surfing internet and newspapers to find means and ways to escape its attack, that is well justified, though. However, today I stand mortified before those kids who are forced to walk barefoot on the burning highways, dehydrated and exhausted. Thousands of migrant laborers have taken the road, hoping that they would reach to the sole safety they can dream of; their thatched houses. They are at the risk of contracting this deadly virus and in turn become a carrier of the same. At this juncture, ‘social distancing’ stands as a clear deal of political dog whistle and public mockery.

I feel ashamed of those moments I engaged in apportioning the blame, trying to find fault with people in authority of their apparent failures in establishing proper strategies. I have decried the proximity of most vulnerable in my vicinity with great amount of revulsion and abhorrence. I am completely okay with successive lock-downs, for it never affected me in a colossal way. But my total and blind compliance with the order of the day has caused me a severe prick of conscience. Mere apathy may not water down the destabilized state of my conscience, rather I believe it is high time to act. Despite the threat of the virus out there in the bare streets, I must come out of my comfort zones to aid the exiling horde. The oven-hot highways have pushed frenzy minds of the people on exile into a deplorable state of hopelessness. If all out there can be a small help to the needy today, I am cent percent sure that the death-defying exile can be altered through other safer modes of transportation. The question that remains is, can I be a catalyst of change or a whistle blower in bringing changes through my good deeds? Together we can defeat the perilous spread of the virus and the numbed conscience of the authorities. Let these words may help you the readers to come out of the insouciant attitude towards the people in exile. Will any number of sanitizing cleanse my defiled conscience?                          

Let us not ‘distance socially’ the distanced ones.