Fickle, focus.

It's so bloody easy to get distracted.
And, to be led.

Just last week Mumbai was attacked.
Then we watched the NSG attack.
(Via Ms Dutt of the smudged mascara.)
Then we watched resignations compete across the country.
Then we watched 'an angry nation' protest the politics of our politicians.
And then we watched to see what India would demand of Pakistan.
And then what the US would demand of Pakistan.
And then what Pakistan would demand of the US.
(And while we watched, Ban Ki-moon had three miscarriages and a hernia.)

As the media led us, we followed, panting, frothing.
And just when we were about to switch off our hot television sets, came a new clarion cry.
Why do politicians need all this security?
And off we go; 'angry nation' all over again.

In a week, we have gone from ineptitude to idiocy.
We let 10 (still debated) young, misguided men hold a nation to ransom.
And instead of pulling up our socks, are out lighting candles.

Why can't we hold our focus where we need attention?
Our constables need more than lathis.
So that never again will a constable have to hang onto a Kalashnikov's muzzle as round after round pumps into his abdomen.
So that never again will a greying policeman, in frustration have to fling a plastic chair at his attackers.
So that never again will a police officer take on a terrorist in a helmet that fears a cricket ball.
The nation needs to ensure that its men on the beat are protected. And motivated.
The nation needs to ensure that we have plans on the ground, not just on paper.
Hold. Hold. Don't shift focus.
Let's focus on what we need the government to do.
Not inconsequential inanities.

What do I care how many security guards it takes to change a politician's sense of self?
Or who called who a dog, first?

We get led. We do.
Otherwise, we would not be screaming hoarse alongside those on TV who declared that "Mumbai doesn't want to be resilient any more!"
We would be watching in despair the sight of Mumbai's helpless resilience.
For as we followed further smudging mascara at the Oberoi and Taj and Nariman House, the nation was thankfully deprived a painful sight.
CST, was back in action.

The blood on the platforms washed clean.
The trains chugging in as usual.
With commuters who have no option but to earn a living hanging onto them.
And Zulu Yadav, who will live forever in memory for flinging that plastic chair, was back on duty.
With nothing but his lathi and his faded cotton uniform.

We need focus.