A Letter to the Chief Minister

Dear Sir,

With regard to the recent pub attack in Mangalore, I was glad to hear your willingness to take up the case against the Ram Sena in the state cabinet. Your statement that people taking the law into their own hands will be dealt with firmly is also good to hear, though it would be more reassuring if you dealt with the potential troublemakers well before their hands get to work. However, your declaration that you "will not allow pub culture to grow in Karnataka" leaves me concerned.

Whether it is our congested yet still beautiful capital city, or up-and-coming places like Mangalore, I suppose you feel that much needs to be done to guard against such incidents happening in the future. But is clamping down on pub culture the solution? Yes, the inconvenience caused to urban pub-goers like me, by having our friendly neighbourhood watering hole closed, is minuscule compared with the problems which less privileged people have to deal with. Quite a few elders in the family would agree that more good can come out of staying away from pubs than bad. Apparently, it is a trivial issue which we should take in our stride. But have you considered that denying us a basic freedom could be counterproductive? I probably don't have to remind you of 1993, when Shri Veerappa Moily imposed a ban on liquor sale in the afternoon with a view to keeping schoolkids away from pubs; it only started them off earlier. Would you really rather have the whole lot of us knocking back bottles only at home? There would be a fair amount of cultural disrespect involved, I can tell you!

We are also presented with the angle that pubs have been deemed unsafe for women, and therefore in the name of personal safety it makes sense for us 'youngsters' - girls in particular - to keep away from them. If most of the women I know take this as an affront, as they should, they certainly don't need me to speak on their behalf. However, I speak for the average pub-going Indian male when I say it is an insult, a slap on the face of our standing as good citizens. Most of us waited till we were 21 to enjoy our first drink; and enjoy it (sensibly) we did. We spend many a memorable Friday evening after a hard day's work, unwinding over a pitcher of beer and good company. Perhaps urban India is lacking in alternate recreation when it comes to deciding where to meet up with a bunch of friends on a weekend; but the fact remains, the occasional drink at a favourite pub has become part of the fabric of our professional and social lives. Maybe not something we would choose to define ourselves by, but something as essential as a Sunday lunch at home or the odd familial visit to the movies. And yet, we have organisations all around insinuating that the only reason we might go to a pub is to drink ourselves silly and misbehave with women. Is that the solution then, compromising a lifestyle choice of a sizable number because a sexually repressed few continue to find a convenient outlet for their frustrations?

Having been away in America for the last two years, it is possible that the exposure to this consumerist and (supposedly) more liberal society might cause me to look at things in my homeland in a less pragmatic light; what works here does not necessarily work in India, and the last thing anyone wants is another NRI telling them exactly what is wrong with the state of things back home. But consider the city I lived in for nearly two decades, Bangalore (I refuse to call it by its changed name). It boasts no notable sites to attract the discerning tourist, and the only conceivable reason a holidaymaker might stop by is to make a connecting trip. Yet, in the past, tourists were mostly enamoured by this progressive city and the welcoming nature of its inhabitants. This naturally translated into an enlightened attitude towards alcohol, hence the growth of the pub culture you now want to stamp out. Although you may not be willing to admit it, the pub scene has had a mostly positive impact on the way Bangalore is perceived, a small but vital contributory factor in appealing to the techie and tourist alike. Compare this with Chennai, a fine city in its own right, but a place which remains incredibly insecure when it comes to matters of the bottle. This is what a friend of my father had to say about the issue there:

In Chennai, going to buy liquor from the government controlled TASMAC shops is an utterly anti-civilisational, self-demeaning act. The atmosphere around these shops is filthy beyond description. You have to gingerly maneuver your steps between dollops of spit and phlegm, remains of old and fresh vomit, broken bottles, remains of the plastic pouches in which vendors sell kadalai (boiled gram) and pickles, puddles of piss in the corners, drunks lying sprawled in the muck and a general air of depravity and squalor which beggars imagination.

I don't know about you, but that description strikes me as a pointer to how things might be if pub culture were indeed wiped out. By and large, the public recognises that social drinking is a behavioural norm, not a recipe for breaking a household. Why would you want to change that perception?

We keep going on about how India is a developing country, and how we find the term disparaging. I think everyone would do well to remember that development is measured not only in material terms or standard of living, but also in the evolving of our attitudes and sensibilities over changing times.

Yours faithfully,
SC

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