Writing admin on 09 Jun 2012 08:28 pm
On a recent Sunday, I took the Metro North to Grand Central Station; stepped out into the warm afternoon air, and after walking for less than 10 minutes, entered a dark night in Bihar.
A van was driving through a narrow alley in a small town. Men carrying automatic weapons got out and shouted to shop-owners to bring down their shutters. Arriving at a door, they began to fire. The attackers, several clad in kurtas, threw bombs inside. Then they fired more shots.
What impressed me most was not the indiscriminate shooting — irresponsible in its profligacy — but the general lack of personal safety displayed by the shooters. This was not so much a shooting raid as much as a macho staging of rangdaari. I was familiar with this attitude of casual disregard, what managerial pundits would call a lack of professionalism, and it pleased me. On the closing night of the New York Indian Film Festival, in the Greenwich Village theatre where Anurag Kashyap’s Gangs of Wasseypur was being screened, I suddenly felt that I had come home.