I am not an Egyptian, and I have been to Cairo only once, but I have a feeling that we are going, or will soon be going the Egyptian way. It’s only a hunch, and I may be wrong, but I have lived through quite a few revolutions, and can smell them, as a cat smells cheese, from a distance. We are on the cusp of a revolution ourselves and one of these days, we shall see horses galloping down the Rajpath, and tanks and armoured cars circling Flora Fountain in Mumbai, as they did in 1946, forcing the British to quit India.
Who would have thought that Indian sailors, who had fought under the British Flag for six years, would suddenly decide to give up the ghost and lay down their arms? I watched them myself, utterly stupefied, as they marched past me, and it was only the following morning that I came to know that they had revolted - the first such revolt after 1857 - and would not return to barracks again. The British then realised that their time was up and, if they did not leave India on their own, their goose would be cooked, and they would have another 1857 on their hands.
Revolutions have a habit of creeping upon you when you least expect them. Just as you need only two matches to strike a five, two men, or women, can start a revolution. In Tunisia, the revolt was triggered by a vegetable seller - a bhajiwala - whose cart was seized by a police woman because she wanted to stop all traffic for a bada saab who was expected to pass that way. The man was so enraged he set himself on fire and that is how it all began.
This country is ripe for a revolution. What shape it will take, I do not know, just as Hosni Mubarak did not know, until he saw the writing on the wall, that his time was up. Of course, we are supposed to be a democracy, and revolts do not take place in a democracy. Go and tell that to the next farmer preparing for suicide because he has lost everything, and to the family whose small piece of land has been stolen by a local babu. And you still think there is not going to be a revolution?
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