| |
SO
LONG, FAREWELL
Sometime
in the mid-1990s, the song Run away, run away, run away and stay alive
raced to the top of the charts. It could well have been the anthem for
two generations of Calcuttans. Bengal's decline may be the subject of
historical study but for anybody and anything that has fled the state
since 1977 the reason is more immediate: the stifling nature of Jyoti
Basu's cadre-cracy.
When Basu
took charge in 1977, Calcutta's best days were behind it but it was still
a force to be reckoned with. If you were a successful Indian you drove
an Ambassador car with Dunlop tyres, wore Bata shoes, drank Shaw Wallace
liquor and probably regarded the Oberoi Grand the country's best hotel.
Each of these brands bore a Bengal stamp. Over 23 years, India's benchmarks
have moved far away from Basu's necropolis.
THE GREAT
ESCAPE
ICI, Brooke
Bond, Avery, Philips, ANZ Grindlays, Gestetner, the JK Group, East India
Hotels, Britannia, IBP-a fraction of the list of companies that have moved
their registered office or executive HQ out of Calcutta tells the story
of the cpi(m)'s failure. Even the big Marwari business families-some with
a presence in Calcutta going back a century and a half and great social
favourites of Basu-have sought an emigration clearance. One Birla after
the other has gone and Harsh Goenka, son of R.P. Goenka, moved to Mumbai
in the 1980s. The BIFR has recommended 57 comatose psus be wound up; 29
are in West Bengal. The state is left with tea and sympathy; literally.
The death
of commerce has told on Calcutta in strange ways. In the old days, you
had to be the director of a well-regarded firm to qualify for membership
of the rarefied Bengal Club. Today, general managers gain admission-an
indication that top corporate jobs are just not available in Calcutta.
The boxwallah was orphaned by the demise of the British Raj; he was killed
off by the Red Raj.
SUCCEEDING
OUTSIDE
From Amar
Singh to Bipasha Basu, MP to model, successful India is packed with refugees
from Basu land. Calcutta, in the words of a cynic, is the "world's
biggest old people's home". Its proliferating cyber-cafes are frequented
by retired folk sending e-mail to children and grandchildren abroad. This
week Basu could join the queue. His granddaughter lives in London. Like
countless others she voted with her feet against a land where nothing
ever happens; a city where hope has been killed.
-Ashok
Malik
|
|