I cant tell you how depressed this picture made me feel. (from Indiauncut).
Let’s see what Amit who took this picture says.
“At one point, Raj Singh Dungarpur, the team’s manager, got Wasim Jaffer’s attention and pushed his glass towards him. He wanted Jaffer to pour water into it. Jaffer politely obliged.”
Am I depressed on account of Raj Singh Dungarpur’s imperious regal air, the fact that he does not even acknowledge Jaffer’s action with a glance—instead staring straight on like a Sultan watching a mujra while his wine goblet is refilled by an underling?
No I am not.
I am depressed because I do not have anyone “under my command” who would be sufficiently afraid/in awe of my powers so as to pour water into my glass while I kept myself otherwise occupied. After all Dungarpur and I are kind of similar otherwise—-both of us have no personal achievements to speak of, both of us make idiotic, self-important statements, neither of us has any idea of cricket, both of us love Mohammed Azharuddin, both of us hate Sourav Ganguly and both of us were born into royal families.
Okay maybe not the last one (or perhaps the one before too), but you get the picture.
To be honest, I have always admired people in authority who push their subordinates about and treat them as personal serfs. A senior cop who gets on the shoulders of a constable to avoid getting his feet wet, a professor who sends his PhD students to do his family’s groceries, a powerful administrator who has home guards cooking and cleaning his house are all objects of my undiluted admiration.
Take my Class 6 Arts teacher. One day he took a boy’s collage work (something he had spent hours doing) and in front of him ripped it up, slapped him hard on his face and said ” Do you know why I ripped your work? Because I don’t like your face.”
While the young boy, tears running down his cheek, picked up the remnants of his work from the floor and our arts teacher paced the class saying “Keep me in good mood, children” I remember thinking to myself—
Wow what an achiever. Today he is going to go his dingy Bhowanipore hovel and over a dinner of rice and daal tell his fat wife–Guess what I did today ! I made a 12 year old boy cry. While his wife would reply—“Ooh you hunk of a man you. Come to bed bobba and ride me like a rickshaw”.
Yes even at age 12 I was having such thoughts. And idolizing my Arts teacher. And worshipping some of the other noble men and women who would accept gifts from their students—from things like diaries and chocolates to more significant things —all given in the hope that the teachers “liked their faces”.
I remember our school “foundation day” where our founder used to sit on an elevated pedestal smiling benignly while kids piled past him –laying at his feet “presents” which ranged from greetings cards to gift packs of scents and toiletries. I wanted to be like him—lording over puny humans who knew that this superman had the power of life and death over them.
Just like Wasim Jaffer knows that Raj Singh , who as we all know has been sent on the Pakistan tour purely as a stooge of the ruling BCCI clique, exerts an inordinate say in selection matters (though technically speaking, he is not supposed to). So while Jaffer knows that acting as his towel boy may not get him into the team, refusing to do so would be like consuming cyanide with respect to his cricket career . Which is why, like a meek boy, he was obliged to service his master. Now that is what is called Pawar…sorry Power.
In conclusion, I wonder (yes I wonder a bit too often) what would have happened if one day underlings snap. What if, pushed to the corner and sick and tired of their fear of authority being taken for granted—the constable drops his superior into a ditch, the student puts laxatives in the groceries, the home guards throw the frying pan at their boss and ask him to cook his own food, the class 6 kid shoves his boot up the Arts teachers ass, students refuse to “celebrate” foundation day and Wasim Jaffer pours water on mega-blowhard Raj Singh Dungarpur’s head.
That would be some day.
Water on “dung”—-the stink would not have gone away too easily.