The Indian economy, says Subramanian Swamy, who deems himself the only thoroughbred economist in India, is in a tail spin. (He chased Raghuram Rajan, the former Governor of the RBI, out of the country to ensure that his claim to this distinction remains undoubted). According to him, we are not into economic recession. We are into economic depression. These are shocking and sinister statements. To the extent that no refutation has come from government sources in this regard – Swami himself being a mouth of the establishment – we should deem the alarm sounded as well-founded.

Against this background, the arrest and ad hoc housing of the former Finance Minister – P Chidambaram – in Tihar jail takes on an interesting hue. Chidambaram has been an outspoken critic of Modi government’s track-record in (mis)managing the economy. He used the twenty seconds he got with the media recently to send out a distress signal regarding India’s economy. He spread out all of his five fingers to the scribes and to say, “I told you it is five.” By that he meant that the GDP growth number is 5%, and not the 7% something, as officially claimed.

My memories go back to November of 2016. I was in Cochin on the 8th of that month when demonetization was slapped on the country. Suddenly I found myself helpless and penniless in another city. Though I had a ticket to travel back to Trivandrum, I did not have money to hire a taxi to reach the railway station and, after reaching Trivandrum, to reach home. For weeks thereafter, all of us were shut out of our own hard-earned money. Modi wanted to teach the corrupt a lesson. The blows fell on our heads. We still haven’t recovered from them. Especially, the economy.

In the meanwhile, a legal banking gymnastic has been achieved. ‘Bail out’ has been replaced with ‘bail in.’ The funda is this. If the banks went bankrupt, formerly the State used to bail them out by re-capitalizing them. As of now, if banks go bust, they can bail themselves in, using the depositors’ money. There is no guarantee on the money you have deposited with the banks. It could happen one day that you go to withdraw a part of your deposits and you are told, “Sorry, sir. You have to wait, till we are in a position to oblige you. But we can’t tell you when.” You will have to return home, as you did in November of 2016 from long, serpentine queues in front of banks and ATMs, without being able to reach anywhere near your own money.

In the meanwhile, we are outsmarting the rest of the world in the race to the Moon. We missed by a whisker the distinction of being only the fourth to land an unmanned vehicle on the Moon! If only we had succeeded, we could have forgotten all about the peril in which we perhaps are. Well, never mind. Now there is a substitute gratification on offer. Our Prime Minister will share a stage with Trump in Texas. It will be a show that will dazzle the eyes of the world. Which other world leader has achieved such pinnacles of international glory? If we cannot forget our woes and rejoice in the reflected glory of these mega events and global highs, we have only ourselves to blame.

There are cynics and paranoid conspiracy-theorists in this country who insinuate that perhaps there is a deliberate intent in plunging the country into serious economic disarray. That it helps in overwhelming the people, from the middle class down, with bewilderment and insecurity. That this is a necessary condition for activating a public craving for a Messianic leader. Also, it is a lot easier to control people when they are helpless, but are, at the same time, willing to hold on to their beleaguered hopes. Utter hopelessness will make human beings go berserk, but desperation tempered with sparks of hope help.

We, however, do not wish to heed such psychic anxiety-seekers and doom-sayers. In comparison, I would rather be with Nero, who was fiddling when Rome was burning. But historians tell us that very likely the great fire that gutted a vast area of Rome, where mostly the poor plebeians lived, and where Nero was desirous of erecting a palace for himself could have been started on purpose. Some of these worst-case-scenarios-seekers even point out that Nero had the fires restarted, and had them to burn and rage for days in areas where they died down prematurely before the intended devastation was fully achieved.

Well, after all, this event happened a long, long time ago. What point of relevance, or similarity, does it have to anything happening in our brave, bold democratic days?

I have finally, after much calculation, decided to derive all my comfort and reassurance from the media. I sit and listen to various governmental achievements and breath-taking adventures celebrated 24×7. I have also developed a new taste by which I enjoy the critics of the government are flayed alive by TV anchors. (It reminds me of the Elizabethan sport of bear-baiting). Thank God, we can choose between gloom and glee. By opening my ears to our prophets of doom, I incur the risk of plunging myself headforemost into the dark world of insanity. It is a stupid and terrible thing to do. I am wiser. I go with the media. I am especially fond of a couple of TV channels which I refrain from mentioning out of politeness. They do such a thorough job of it!

Well, there is this other thing that I do these days. I pray. I pray for my country. I pray that we may be justly and wisely governed. I also pray that citizens may not have to live, anywhere in India, in fear and trauma. I pray for those who are tormented by the brooding ferocity of hunger. I sometimes forego a meal or two, just to be able to feel a bit of the misery that they endure days on end. I also read, and read, and read… Read especially the classics, till I lose touch with the current on-goings. Unlike most of my fellow Indians, I am infirm, weak-willed and over-sensitive. I need a haven to escape to. What else do I have, except my books? (Please don’t ask me if I read War and Peace).

Thank God, there are books.

So, for me too the show goes on. Except that, in my case, ‘the show’ that I enjoy vicariously ended a long, long time ago. It exists as a procession of luminous words on pallid pages.

Thank God, the show goes on…