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 From ZeiTGeiST ASIA: September 2011 Edition

Khanduism 28

Gaurav Lakhanpal

 
The ‘whistle-blower’
 
There is no need to fear the whistle-blower as long as you control the horn. The whistle can always be drowned in the sound of the horn.
 
The Lok Pal Bill had been introduced in the Parliament on August 4. Anna Hazare’s team and “The Civil Society” had dubbed it as the Joke Pal Bill and were burning copies of the same. I happened to be driving near one such burning ceremony on the streets of Ghaziabad on the same day. As my car approached the venue I noticed a few hundred people gathered in the middle of the road, each one holding a few papers in hand purporting to be the copies of Joke Pal Bill and shoving them into the bonfire. Arvind Kejriwal later likened the ceremony to Gandhiji’s burning of foreign goods and the Rowlatt Act of 1919.
 
Since the traffic had been held up for quite sometime, I was getting bored passively watching the ceremony. I prodded Khandu to think out some creative way of managing to move forward.
 
Khandu always loves such challenges and he was immediately ready with a response. He put on his cap again, took out a whistle and started blowing it repeatedly, in an almost unbroken chain of long and short spurts. And it worked. The gathered crowd started parting itself into two, making room for our car and the ones following us to enable us to pass through.
 
I was absolutely amazed. I could not help conveying my appreciation to Khandu.
 

“That was amazing. How did you think of it?”

 
Khandu sat smug in his driving seat, relishing the compliment, without feeling any need to even acknowledge it as if it was his birth right. I thought a little bit of retraction might make him descend from the high cloud back to reality.
 

“But you should not try it too often, Khandu. Blowing whistles like a policeman might make the crowds yield way for your car but if some real policeman in the vicinity notices it, he could take offence and lock you up,” I said.

 
Khandu felt hurt and angry, not at what I had said as I found out soon enough, but at the fact of my being so much out of tune with the changing jargon of national discourse.

“Whatever made you think that I was blowing the whistle like a policeman? And in any case, did you think these agitating crowds would really respond to the police whistles? I was whistling like a true ‘whistle-blower’ and these crowds gathered here know what a whistle blower is even if educated, rich men like you don’t. But you, too, will begin to know it soon enough.”

I am quite used to the under-current of class antagonism between us, at least in Khandu’s mind. So I let the bit about ‘educated, rich’ pass because, in a way, Khandu was right. I had definitely heard of the new pedestals on which whistle blowers are being placed these days. But I had never subscribed to that idea.

 
In the bourgeois value system I have grown up in, absolute loyalty of an employee towards his employer is a virtue to be appreciated and blowing a whistle on one’s bread-giver is considered nothing less than treason or namak harami as if the entire edifice of social stability would collapse if whistle blowers were to be rewarded. Therefore, on seeing the agitating crowd and on hearing the whistle, my bourgeois mind automatically interpreted it as the police whistle aimed at dispersing the ‘unruly’ crowd. Khandu was, therefore, right. But so was I. I thought of confronting the issue then and there.
 
“I have heard about this whistle blowing but I did not connect it with that crowd situation.But, tell me honestly, do you seriously believe that whistle blowers should be rewarded instead of being chucked out of the job?” I asked.
 
I held my breath, waiting for a reply, because on his reply would depend his continuation in his job and, perhaps, also his prospects for finding a new job. What would happen to thousands of readers of this column if Khandu’s reply to my last question were in the affirmative?
 
Discretion is the better part of valour and even Khandu got this message that day. He chose to keep quiet and changed the subject. I got my answer – the confrontation had been deferred to another day – by mutual consent. This column continues uninterrupted. 

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