terror tv

and as it still goes on the silence in the house is rare. the television has been on almost continuously from 10 o’clock last night with the high pitched voices of excited reporters filling airtime by repeating the same three observations over and over again, in their eyes a perpetual bewilderment and exhaustion as they stand outside the hotels making their cameramen follow the contours of the buildings one window at a time hoping for some new developments- or hoping, like all of us are, for it to end. in sudden sharp bursts the emptiness of activity is broken by shots and gunfire and we imagine red carpeted corridors with the fragments of the departing bodies of dark shadowy figures.

we feel under siege. the randomness of the violence makes us prisoners in our homes. on the streets phantom cars drive with possible gunmen wreaking havoc but the streets in the evening seemed normal on the surface. yet it seemed like something was not quite right. the conversations in the corner markets were not as effusive, the lights seemed slightly more dim. the ‘spirit’ is exhumed again to make us all feel better- or we wait for its demise so we can prove that anything can die.

in between the shots of the distraught reporters on location experts like prahlad kakkar sit in the studio and wonder about the irresponsibility of the police because of an image he saw where the ats chief according to him wore his armour ‘casually’. if i was frustrated by the befuddled shivraj patil in new delhi making statements i was positively pissed with those vultures advani and jasvant singh who are hanging around the oberoi to feed on the media frenzy there on the eve of the elections. how can i forget that phtograph? running wild and scared at vt wearing a t-shirt and jeans, he could be one of my students, except for that mad look in his eyes and the gun in his hand. 20 years old and so removed from everyday life that he is willing to give up his life while taking so many for the sake of an abstract ideology.

its been a horrific month that does not seem to end.  i find coincidences that make me shiver. it was only yesterday that i bought and started to read thoman pynchon’s ‘gravity’s rainbow’ in which the war is not over in london as unpredictable and random violence is unleashed when mysterious bombs can drop down anywhere in the city. the air is thick with the possibilities of anything. i am going to stop reading the book. i am tired. this needs to stop.