A Nation of Idiots by Daksh Tyagi

Author:Daksh Tyagi [Tyagi, Daksh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Every Protest
Published: 2020-04-12T18:30:00+00:00

A fart is proof that we are connected.

Air out of someone’s arse is inside your nose.

FIVE

A sense of belonging

INHERITANCE

The notion of trying to make friends in high places seems absurd, when you consider what they must have done to get there. As a rule of thumb, I avoid the company of people who talk about money, handbags, post-80s cars (which are just computers on wheels) and inheritance laws. The first three I might overlook if I have direct access to an exit. But, barring lawyers, if a man in his thirties exhibits deep knowledge of inheritance law, I steer clear. Chances are, he likes the smell of other people’s money.

An obsession with monetary inheritance will ruin your days, abandonment of it will nag the nights out of your eyes, and discussion on it holds no value. But as I waited in a queue of stationary cars at a toll booth in Uttar Pradesh, I couldn’t help but think about monetary inheritance.

Each year, the government inherits 40 per cent of our income. Add to it, the taxes we pay on purchases, land ownership and car registrations, and we are passing on well over 50 per cent of our income to a fund that is in the foster care of politicians. And after inheriting over 50 per cent of a woman’s annual earnings, they can’t even ensure she gets home safe.

So, every time a camera catches a politician hurling abuse at a toll booth operator and refusing to pay ₹ 100, I find a few things wrong with it.

First, that is our ₹ 100 in his bloated wallet.

Second, we paid for his bulletproof car.

Third, we paid for his bodyguard, who crumples the collar of the toll booth operator’s shirt.

Fourth, we bought the bodyguard his rifle.

Fifth, our money went into the toll booth that the politician’s goons are smashing with sticks and slippers.

Sixth, we pay the salary of the toll booth operator and hopefully his medical expenses.

Seventh, the camera that records this dispute belongs to the taxpayer.

Eighth, the police officer they call is on our payroll.

Ninth, we bought the police officer his car, which runs on the fuel money we gave.

So when the police officer asks the bruised toll booth operator to back off and offers the politician a free pass, the taxpayer has lost a lot more than ₹ 100. Meanwhile, we sit in our cars, wondering what caused the pile-up. Amazing, what an idiot can do with inheritance.

But monetary inheritance is far from fascinating. What interests me is the inheritance of a different kind. Our ability to collect and store the ideas of previous generations. Something we excel at more than any other animal on the planet. This is one of our greatest skills. To inherit and impart. Sometimes, to inherit, exaggerate and then impart. A sparrow will not avenge an electrical board for his electrocuted grandfather. But our children might avenge the family of sparrows for dying on a wire and falling on our porch.

As I drove past the broken toll booth, I wondered if the ideas we pass on have relevance.

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