Old times had their own good bad charms.
You just can’t afford to be judgmental. In the region where my parent state
stands presently, there was this Nawab of Daulta near the present town of Beri.
Well, the man was a religious enthusiast. He released even the murderers if
they converted to Islam. So what do you say?
Then there was this communist chap, Prakash
Singh Dujana. Even politics was simple during those bucolic days. He won’t
think too much before proclaiming at the rally, “I need to convince only the
Jat voters. The lower castes will come along by default like a street dogs
comes with ticks on its ears.” Someone said, “You don’t have a single vote.”
Our politician was one-eyed. Expertly and confidently he pointed out someone in
the audience similarly placed on the vision front, “There is my brother in half
vision. He at least can’t ignore me through his single eye!” Then he realized another
advantage and quipped, “Ten girls from my village have been married here. And
they are very social and pleasing personalities. I have faith in them. They
must be in a position to influence hundreds of men around!”
There was then this old man. Travelling
in his bullock carts at night, he would take long detours away from any type of
light visible on the horizon. “This light attracts thugs, robbers and ruffians.
This is not light. This is the path of sin,” he used to say. Well, he would
have preferred to keep the whole world in darkness at nights.
So
those were the days, when the best to the worst was put in the same basket and
weighed in the scale and valued at the same price. And nobody got unduly
jittery. Those were the times of acceptance I suppose!