Really, Brutus is an honourable man!

This morning, I was reading an article about Natwar Singh, who is caught up in the ongoing oil-for-food scam. The piece is written by Vir Sanghvi, who I consider to be one of the best journalists in India today. I’m not sure what parameters are usually applied to make such an assessment but, really, I couldn’t care less. What makes him the best for me is the fact that he is eminently readable. He doesn’t talk down to the readers and, unlike most other pretentious big-name writers, doesn’t try to be the scholar that he is not. Besides, he doesn’t try and bury the readers under copious but meaningless facts and figures. Perhaps the single greatest reason why I like to read his articles is because I can identify with his approach to the given issue and the way in which he views a ‘story’. So unlike this other big shot, also known as motor mouth, that I’ll be working with very closely in the near future. But, as usual, I digress. Singing hosannas to this journalist I like is hardly what this post is about.

Somewhere towards the end of this article I’ve mentioned above, the writer wonders if it’s alright to remember Natwar Singh by the single misdeed he has committed. He says, “...it would be wrong and unjust to judge him on the basis of his behaviour during this period.” Because, the writer insists, the ex-minister is essentially an honourable man. I don’t wish to start a debate about the writer’s contention not only because I believe him but primarily because, again, that is not the point of this post. It’s the writer’s statement that I’m interested in.

The moment I read that, it started a chain of thoughts in my head. At once, my mind went back to something similar I have mentioned in my book on cricket. (Incidentally, only the binding work remains and the long-delayed book should be out by the end of the coming week.) I had said that Greg Chappell, the current coach of the Indian cricket team, should not be judged only by the underarm bowling controversy that he was caught in during his playing days. There can be no two ways about it: it was a stupid and unsportsman-like thing to do. Technically, it didn’t break any laws of the game then but was rightfully seen as a shameful violation of the spirit in which cricket is expected to be played. But should the man be judged by that one silly act he committed in his zeal to win? Then, there is the recent Dean Jones story. An ex-Australian cricketer and a popular television commentator, he referred to Hashim Amla, a player of Indian origin and a South African cricketer, as a terrorist while on air, during a South Africa-Sri Lanka Test match. For those who may not know, Amla is a devout Muslim and sports a traditional beard. What Jones said is unforgivable and, rightly so, the TV channel has fired him from the assignment. Now, I’m no Jones fan and have never been, certainly not of his style of commentary, which, I think, borders on the sensational. But, again, should the man be judged only by that one incident? Sure, all three men must be criticised and, where necessary, suitably punished by law for what they’ve done but, my point is, is that all there is to them?

I don’t know any of these men personally and, therefore, cannot comment knowledgably about their essential goodness or otherwise. For all I know, they maybe the worst boors in the history of mankind. Or, not. In a sad sort of way, what makes it all very interesting for me, and binds all three by one common thread, is that I find some resonance of all this in my life as well. Without meaning, or even trying, to equate myself with them, either in the eminence they enjoy/ed in their respective fields or in the magnitude of what they’ve been guilty of, I can empathise with the frustration of being judged by a single deed or a careless statement.

Of course, my experience was on a much smaller and personal level. The ramifications, if you ask me, have been just as severe and damaging as the consequences of events I’ve mentioned above. An off-the-cuff and, I admit, careless remark was taken completely out of context and misunderstood. And, I fear, I was judged for that one remark and punished. I was never allowed to explain the remark that, without meaning to sound dramatic, went on to change quite a few lives. And, unfortunately, not for the better.

Those words come back to haunt me even today and, I know, I’ll never be able to live them down. Not because they were insulting or offensive or abusive but because of what happened as a consequence of those words. Yes, I regret them and wish I had never uttered them but, most certainly, they didn’t warrant the reaction they elicited. In a different time, a different mood, a different setting, the very same words wouldn’t sting one bit, I know. However, they were spoken in the time, mood and setting they were and that can’t be changed but nor can ever I stop myself from wondering whether they were such harsh words. Or, if they should have brought about the consequences they did. Or, if I should’ve been judged solely by those words.

Months ago, I had written a post about regrets and how I feel amazed that, when asked, people can say they have no regrets in life. Maybe I’m odd but I have plenty of regrets in life and what I have described here is, perhaps, one of the deepest. And, ironically, I’m writing about it on a day that holds one of my sweetest memories.