The Holy Cow... And Democracy

Every now and then, I see the “holy cow” con game being enacted in this village in southern Goa where I live. It goes something like this:

A ragged-looking couple will turn up at the gate, beating a drum and playing some local musical instrument, accompanied by a gaily caparisoned cow.

Folding their hands, they will beg for alms in the name of the holy cow.

I always shoo them off, but not so the other devout people in the area who, almost without exception, not only offer alms to the couple, but also feed the cow, and - this is the best part - wash the cow’s feet!

What am I driving at?

That democracy is like the holy cow.

Yesterday, I asked one of my village neighbours about her choice in the upcoming elections.

She told me she voted because that’s what everyone did. She would vote for someone or the other, it didn’t matter whom, they were all the same. Come elections, and they would visit the village, go from house to house asking for votes, making promises they never keep. She said it was pointless – that her vote didn’t change anything – but she would vote anyway.

And of course she is right.

Come elections, and small bands of people go from house to house, accompanied by their “candidate,” asking for the vote.

This is not very different from the “holy cow” con game.

Some fall for the holy cow of democracy – feed it, wash its feet, bow down before it – and vote.

We are following rituals that have lost their meaning.

I have seen this in New Delhi too. Come elections, and groups of people march through localities accompanied by their heavily-garlanded “candidate,” looking not much different from our gaily caparisoned holy cow, shouting patriotic slogans, beating drums.

They never come otherwise. And we never see the candidate again, even if we voted for him, and even more so if he wins.

So, from this little village right up to the mighty capital city, the story is the same.

Democracy is just a holy cow.