Look at all the lies they tell and get away with it. That's the marvel of privately-held public life in India.
Eleven days after a small team of the Archaeological Survey of India dug up the premises of a 180-year-old Shiva temple at Daundia Khera village in Unnao district of Uttar Pradesh and made it fit to sow a crop of sweet potatoes, a certain gold-dreaming seer has sleep-walked into the anonymity he came from. Five days ago when the seer was at the top of his prophesied mounds of gold, not even a Modi had the guts to look askance at him. And when he did it, he had to grin and take his words back sheepishly.
Like a character from a Paulo Coelho work, the seer sold a dream to an avid Central government. Little did they realise the cheap deal would entail a heavy price: ignominy of an epic proportion. Media vans arrived at the docile hamlet much before the ASI and its ancient tools. What followed was a sepia story retold in 3D. The government of India goes on a stupid treasure hunt in circa 2013.
Eleven days after a small team of the Archaeological Survey of India dug up the premises of a 180-year-old Shiva temple at Daundia Khera village in Unnao district of Uttar Pradesh and made it fit to sow a crop of sweet potatoes, a certain gold-dreaming seer has sleep-walked into the anonymity he came from. Five days ago when the seer was at the top of his prophesied mounds of gold, not even a Modi had the guts to look askance at him. And when he did it, he had to grin and take his words back sheepishly.
Like a character from a Paulo Coelho work, the seer sold a dream to an avid Central government. Little did they realise the cheap deal would entail a heavy price: ignominy of an epic proportion. Media vans arrived at the docile hamlet much before the ASI and its ancient tools. What followed was a sepia story retold in 3D. The government of India goes on a stupid treasure hunt in circa 2013.
The site of the gold hunt in Unnao
A few days into the digging, the government checks its balance sheet: all barbs, no booty. Sobering begins with vehement denials. The ASI says it digs for history, not gold. So true. Union culture minister begins talking like a historian and comes up with a thousand explanations for the hurried excavation. All of them convincing.
The seer sees threat in the government denying him his due. He appoints a spokesperson who talks so brazenly as if quoting from the Arabian Nights. More dreams follow. More diggings begin, this time by tomb raiders.
Gold eludes one and all. So does a conclusive ending to a bizarre drama.
The seer can get away. A thousand tonnes of gold can vanish without appearing. After all, it's a dream. The government keeps bleating it never dug for gold. But the ASI diggers get sick, tired and turn them in. There is no gold here, they confirm. But who asked you to dig for gold? The government never does that. We have all heard that. Time and again.
Silence. And isn't silence supposed to be err... golden?
Life will be back to normal once again at the site. Workers will resume work. Kids will go to school. Media vans will leave. Makeshift shops will be moved. The seer will go to sleep and hopefully will not dream gold anytime soon.
The government has so many faces that losing one hardly matters. What has been dug will be covered. And we will grow something here: reason, scientific temper, responsible thinking, restraint… .Any other suggestion?
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