Some more thoughts on this currency/demonetisation mess...

... and on an empathy deficit that is now rivalling the shortfall in cash. I’ve been seeing and hearing a lot of the Mahatma Gandhi quote “Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man whom you may have seen, and ask yourself if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him.” It’s a fine thought (and one that can be put to good ironic use these days, what with Gandhi’s face on currency notes smiling gently at – or, if you squint hard, mocking – poor people who can no longer use their cash), but it isn’t a practical one. Very few of us can pretend to be saints who adopt that stance in our daily lives – or even once in a while, when agonizing over major decisions.

Perhaps a more realistic talisman would go something like this: each time you feel tempted to comment on an issue that you have been directly affected by – but which you know is ALSO affecting the lives of people who are much less fortunate – in any such case, before you make that sweeping statement, please count to twenty quietly; introspect a little, allow yourself to consider the possibility that there are things you have been shielded from, that the worst of what you have personally gone through is not necessarily the worst that anyone else might experience.

If you have spent a tough few hours in a bank queue (perhaps made a little less tough by the entertaining conversations around you, or the weather being relatively pleasant, or the option of playing a game on your smart-phone) and felt the relief of having seen some money at the end of it, along with the satisfaction of having contributed to the grand National Cause in some yet-to-be-fully-perceived way – even in the self-congratulatory euphoria of this moment, give yourself some time to consider those who may be facing greater hardships, and much more serious repercussions when they leave their work for days on end to stand in lines.

Consider that if you’re reading this post, that in itself is a guarantee that you are immeasurably better off than a very large number of people in this country. That from the vantage point of some of these people, the difference between your lifestyle and Mukesh Ambani’s might be negligible.

A notable characteristic of our species is the inability of even generally well-meaning people to see how privileged or lucky they are compared to many others. And linked with this, a self-absorption that leads to the inference of general lessons from our own very specific experiences. These traits show up in many general contexts, of course. (Feminists have long been subjected to casual, irresponsible remarks about feminism being too shrill, angry or exaggerated because, you know, things aren’t as bad as they are made out to be – and such assertions come not just from men but also from privileged women who don’t recognize the long and complex history of the movement and how they have benefited from it.) But they seem to come snarling to the surface in extraordinary situations like the current one.

It’s too easy now to cross a line from being happy for ourselves to being unthinkingly callous about others. Take a tweet from a journalist-columnist a few days ago, about how the bank she happened to go to in a certain colony at a certain time was well-managed and her work got done quickly. Up to this point, no problem – she was simply sharing an experience – but this was then transformed into a general statement of How Things Are; “the crisis has passed”, she ended by saying. Well, no, it hasn’t for millions of people – and that’s the politest, mildest observation one can make at this point.

Yes, of course many of the severely affected people (definitely not all, but many) are finding ways of “getting by” for the time being: helping each other, extending credit, relying on trust and goodwill, using our ancient philosophy of jugaad. Many of them are also deeply conditioned with a fatalistic impulse that comes partly from religious faith, from ideas about today’s suffering being a necessary prelude to a better tomorrow (in this life or the next). But just because the worst-hit are putting on a brave face and using whatever tools are available to them doesn’t mean that others should pretend that “everything is okay” or that “these are only small sacrifices”, or that anyone who raises questions about the manner in which this whole thing has unfolded is a “Congress stooge” or a “presstitute”.

I’m not addressing the larger question of whether this was a good idea or not, and what it may or may not achieve for the country's long-term future – I’m no expert on the subject, and many people who are can’t seem to agree with each other about the details. (Plus, if I’m advocating introspection, I have to consider the possibility that my dislike for Modi and his party might taint my views on just about anything this government does.) But there have been all-too-clear problems with the implementation. Even in an age where anyone with a computer or a smart-phone can express an opinion hastily, and 50 times a day, it should be possible to stop and consider that there may be some truth in the constant stream of reports about people suffering; that the trials of the underprivileged aren’t just the private fantasies of change-resistant libtards.