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Where's the gift of the gab?

Two weeks into an "election-like situation" during which we have been reminded of rashtriya sthirtha and desh ki ekta aur akhandata ad nauseum by our netas, it's time to pause and ponder: Why does this nation of great talkers singularly lack great speakers

Meanwhile: • The model code of conduct has been in operation in 14 of the last 42 months. Which means the country has been denied policy-making for a whole year in the last three-and-a-half years. Is that a good thing? • Does the no-first-use clause in India's nuclear doctrine make sense considering that there will be nobody left in New Delhi to decide if we should retaliate if Pakistan drops a bomb on the capital? • Has the BJP-led caretaker government not raised diesel prices although international prices have shot up 40 to 50 per cent since April to present a healthier picture of the economy in the poll run-up? • Is this the last general election of the millennium ending 31-12-99? Or the penultimate poll of the millennium ending 31-12-00? • Will Mohammed Azharuddin return as skipper if Sachin Tendulkar opts out of the Singapore tournament or will Ajay Jadeja take over?

Why, for mike's sake, are our leaders -- including 'Sanghis' allegedly blessed with a gift of the gab -- incapable of delivering a single speech that may be read and re-read, quoted and remembered, recorded and played over and over again by us, and those to follow us?

Speeches of voice and vision, eloquence and erudition; not revenge and retribution. Speeches which instil hope, not hatred; pride, not fear. Speeches of good intentions and good language; of tone, timbre, tenor, treble, wit, humour and gravitas. When did you last hear one?

If anybody shouts, "Atal Bihari Vajpayee", I ask, "Circa when?"

Before he became "The Leader You Can Trust. In War. In Peace," Atalji's USP was his alleged ability to hold a house in thrall. Who can forget the millions that were splurged just so that the external affairs minister in the Janata Party government could dazzle the United Nations in Hindi?

But for a whole new generation born after that yarn was spun, Prime Minister Vajpayee's speech-making ability rests firmly in the realm of mythology. Blasphemy? Sure, but can you remember one -- ONE! -- speech in his 17 months as PM that gave you the goose pimples?

Pokhran-II, the US sanctions, August 15, the attacks on Christians, January 26, the bus ride to Lahore, the no-confidence motions--all offered superb opportunities for the pradhan mantri to pen his way into the pages of oratorical history. But he huffed and puffed it all away.

Why, Mr Vajpayee even dunked his best chance -- when the body bags were coming home from Kargil -- between his dentures, by failing to address the nation. Imagine Bill Clinton or Tony Blair doing that.

As the author and academic Mukul Kesavan says, Vajpayee on television comes across like a modem. The eyes flutter off and on like those red, little bulbs; there is an undecipherable splutter when the connection is made; and, as with a modem, it's not his data he is conveying!

Where, for instance, was/is Mr Vajpayee's clarion call to the nation's youth in an election where 67 to 70 per cent of voters are between 18 and 35 years of age? Where is his state of the nation address on foreign policy and defence, areas in which his government has taken significant steps while keeping its coalition partners in the dark?

If somebody shouts, "What about Sonia Gandhi?" I ask, "Whoever claimed she was born with a golden microphone in her mouth?"

Forget the steady turnover of prime ministers caused by unstable coalitions. The more lamentable aspect of the last decade has been the steady parade of pathetic speakers: Vajpayee, I K Gujral, H D Deve Gowda, Chandrashekar, V P Singh.

When they peered over their bifocals into the TelePrompTers, and began mumbling, you had to search for sub-titles, not substance.

Sure, no one expects one of those "When the world sleeps" speeches in this day and age. The chances of that had receded long before Panditji's grandson began reminding his rivals of their grandmothers. But at least Rajiv "banana hai" Gandhi had his moments of glory, thanks to Mani Shankar Aiyar. And no one could accuse P V Narasimha Rao of poor linguistic skills.

But whatever's the problem with the knicker lobby, whose members were all supposed to be trained to have audiences wah-wahing their every word? Are they all feeling stifled by the constrictions of coalition politics, where is little place for the rabble-rousing demagoguery that made them such crowd pullers?

There's a fuzzy Vajpayee, a stentorian L K Advani, a smooth Murli Manohar Joshi, a supersmooth Pramod Mahajan, a facetious Govindacharya, an ultra-facetious Sushma Swaraj, a bully in Venkaiah Naidu. And their gallery of knowall spokespersons? Arun Jaitley, Arun Shourie, K L Sharma, J P Mathur, Sumitra Mahajan!

Surely something is rotten in the state of Nagpur, because between them they haven't strung together a single speech/quote worth remembering. Worse, in the manner in which they conduct themselves, as seen on television, they've revealed Congress as the smarter, more civilised oratorial outfit, person-to-person.

The obvious reason why we are running out of good speakers is because we've stopped making good statesmen; people who can think beyond party and poll, and place nation before self. It's also quite possible that the standard of speech-writers is slipping, both processes speeded up by the depths of poverty Indian polity has begun to plumb.

But a more plausible reason for the dearth of good speakers is the Indian politician's slavish reliance on television to carry his message across in a country of this size and diversity.

Television's incredible reach places an added onus on the netajis--to appeal to the lowest common denominator. Which is why you've Rajiv Gandhi saying 'Naani yaad dila denge' and Pramod Mahajan seeking to introduce Monica Lewinsky into the national discourse.

By its very nature and by the general taste of the audience it caters for, television has no time for substantive speeches. Everything has to be reduced to a smart, easily-digestible oneliner (George Fernandes is a classic case of premature articulation -- Natwar Singh) before they break for the next commercial.

In such a set-up, random namecalling, thuggish interventions, sly innuendos and insinuations fetch more mileage than a carefully thought-out and well-written speech. And it's lot less hard work.

In a way, though, the passing away of good speaking is ironic, because it comes at a time when spin doctors and image sculptors are ruling the roost. In a way, it's tragic, because we are reducing this democracy to a slugfest of soundbites, all style and no substance.

Krishna Prasad