The other day, I was watching a news report on the ongoing Farmers’ Protest. The camera moved briefly to a bystander, who immediately went into overdrive, yelling about all the injustices the farmers had to bear. The man looked familiar; I was sure I’d seen him somewhere before. At a protest, too, I was certain. Was it Shaheen Bagh? Or one of the protests about Section 377? Or for Goa’s environment? Or for the victim of the Hathras horror? I couldn’t remember.
And then the penny dropped. I had seen him just the other day. On another channel, participating in a protest against the farmers who were blocking the roads and causing so much disruption. Ah. A compulsive protestor, I realised. The quintessential Indian protestor, who, by force of habit, protests against everything that swims into his ken. I don’t mean the real activists, the people who sincerely stand up against injustice. Even if all that they get for their efforts is bombardment by water-cannons, or a lathi charge, at least they’re standing up for democracy. They are to be lauded.
The ones who intrigue me are the compulsive protestors. Those who only have to catch a whiff of something for them to scream “Noooo!” It may be an obscure book by a writer nobody reads anyway, but which in some vague way seems to question some belief the compulsive protestor didn’t even know he harboured till then. It may be a movie about a historic character he has heard about for the first time but whom, for some bigoted reason, he’s decided he doesn’t like.
It could be about literally anything under the sun, whether he understands it or not, but he considers it his birthright as well as his duty to protest against it. Initially, I was baffled by this Indian urge to protest against inane, inconsequential things. Are we, as a race, incorrigibly whiney? After much thought, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are several reasons for our love for protests. It’s entertaining; you go out, you hang out with friends, you shout a bit, you basically party.
It’s cathartic, too, an easy and cheap stress-relief technique. India, after all, is still a relatively poor nation. We can’t afford more expensive ways of relieving our angst, so we turn to protest. Where Europeans head for the nearest beach and Americans for the nearest therapist, Indians quickly print out placards and head for the nearest public space. If you play your cards right, you could even get hired to protest. Shout a few slogans, take home money. And, if you’re lucky, get seen on TV. Play, party, earn. Get famous. Does it get any better?
Madhulika Liddle Twitter: @authormadhulika
Novelist and short story writer