Budiya vs gudiya

Young is a relative term. Modi thinks the Congress, at 125, is a budiya (old woman). Priyanka thinks Modi, at 59, is old. It's possible you'll find college students who think Priyanka, at 37, is not young enough to understand their angst: she just might get angry if they told her what they'd been up to.

This old-versus-young question is eternally old and eternally young, so don't expect politicians, born naturals at flinging mud, to come up with anything strikingly insightful when they discuss it. Thanks to India’s demographics, where 60 to 70 per cent are now under 40, the age debate has become an interesting highlight of the election drama. We used to hear of caste vote banks; since this time young voters will have a say in who will run the Delhi durbar, youth has become a vote bank.

Parties have decided it makes sense to say things that please the young. And they are saying incredibly daft things. Kumaraswamy (50), who lives by every word his 76-year-old dad utters, described fellow partymen defecting to the BJP as old bullocks walking to the slaughterhouse. He piped down after Deve Gowda reminded him that he was himself the son of a grand old man!

The Congress has always been led by experienced leaders (retainers of the Nehru family, if you are cynical). Its prime ministerial nominee, Manmohan Singh, is 77, not exactly a dude age. And Sonia Gandhi, at 63, is no gudiya (doll) either. The BJP, whose item number continues to be 81-year-old L K Advani, is promoting a retirement-age Modi as its 'young face'!

But then, there are young old people and old young people. Looking at their energy, who would ever think an Advani or a Deve Gowda was less capable of running the country than that bleary-eyed 25-year-old call centre exec and neighbour you last bumped into a year ago?

So let’s put all this confusion aside, and look at Raymond Kurzweil, famous for inventing a musical keyboard that sounds as true and expressive as the live instruments it seeks to approximate. In recent years, he has made a bigger name as a futurist who believes aging can be stopped.

At 35, when Kurzweil was diagnosed with diabetes, he did some independent research and arrived at a diet that he says has cured him of the condition. He is now 61, and is convinced that science will find a way to make him immortal. He bases his optimism on the exponential progress he has been tracking in biotechnology and nanotechnology. If he’s going to live for ever, what would you call Kurzweil at 61: young or old?

To come back to where we began, and to our mortal world… If you could see beyond the physical damage that time inflicts on us, you would realise that quite a bit of this age problem is in the mind. You could have young airheads and old airheads, child prodigies and geriatric prodigies. You could have a forward-looking Manmohan at 77, and a disgusting Sri Rama Sene lout at 22.

Pubs, prudes, dudes

Since we are discussing pub culture so hotly, and since we are so confused about whether it's good or bad, we could try answering an easier question: What's the opposite of pub culture?

Bar culture? Club culture? Lounge culture? Tavern culture? Ah, that's what the Page 3 sorts, with their grasp of the nuances of stylish drinking, would say.

Temple culture? Sadhu culture? Indian culture? That's what Yeddyurappa, Ashok Gehlot, Pramod Mutalik, and all those spiritually inclined patriots would say.

Arrack shop culture? Hmmm… that's the proletarian theorist for you.

Pranayama culture? Yoga culture? Yes, that should be the Sri Sris and Baba Ramdevs.

Sukh Sagar culture? Vidyarthi Bhavan culture? Darshini culture? Perhaps, if you were a middle class Bangalore convervative.

But what if you were none of the above?

Allow me my two-paisa's worth on this vehemently argued case.

Till after I finished my post-graduation, I had not tasted liquor. Today, I can sip some beer or vodka without feeling guilty. But I couldn't have done this ever in the presence of my father, who died ten years ago.

So have I grown from Basavangudi prude to Cantonment dude? Hardly.

Last week I was at Hampi, and friends scribbled an open invitation to musicians on the black board outside our cottage. At least half a dozen musicians trooped in, with the most amazing instruments, and matching skills.

An Israeli came in carrying a Persian violin, and we got a key flute player who became one of the lead players. Soon a guy with a cornet joined the gig, and a couple of drummers walked in with their djembes. The music had brought together complete strangers, and what ensued was sheer enchantment. Some in the audience were drinking, but not one misbehaved or turned unruly.

That must be the romance of the pub, and it is indescribably beautiful. Its warmth inspires the poetry of Omar Khayyam, Harvanshrai Bachchan, G P Rajaratnam. It brings forth song and music from aching hearts. It creates comfort in sharing.

I don't know in how many Bangalore pubs you can realise this ideal. We can be a money-minded, class-conscious and pretentious city, and spontaneity isn't one of our strengths. We have perverse laws that ban singing and dancing. And we can distort something that's natural into something ugly.

To desire good company is human. To want to drink with friends, if you are a drinker, is human. To want to sing and dance is human. Isn't it human then to want 'pub culture'?

But let me also tell you the other side of the story. Early last week, the honey-voiced bhavageete singer Raju Ananthaswamy died of a liver problem at 35. His addiction to 'drink culture', if not 'pub culture', did him in.

Two days later, a poet I know drank himself silly and decided to stage a suicide drama 350 km from Bangalore. His friends nearly fainted of exhaustion, trying through the night to get help across to him. And as you know, drunk drivers are killing far too many on this city's roads. That's what happens when 'pub culture' is misunderstood, that's what happens when 'pub culture' goes out of hand. Here's a bit of trivia: Marlowe, who wrote Dr Faustus, produced great drama with inspiration from pub culture, but did you know he died in a pub brawl?