Once upon a time there lived a wicked stepmother. No. Let’s begin again. Once upon a time, there lived a wicked mother... oh hell... this is getting a bit too tough. I don’t know about you, but I stopped trying to get my head around the Mukerjea murder saga on the first day itself. And this was way before several new characters were introduced into the narrative. There’s a reason for this. I happened to be in Sydney at the time. Distance can be a good thing. It provides a perspective.
And lends a bit of objectivity. Initially, the story sounded so bizarre, I dismissed it as yet another tabloid scandal. As more details tumbled out, the script became surrealistic! I had a choice: I could either get totally sucked into the gory details that were emerging by the minute, as it were, or I could enjoy my much-needed break. I picked the latter. Besides, I was just too darned gobsmacked! Now that I am back, I am definitely not going down the “how could people like us do something like this” route. Because “people like us” are far worse than “people like them”. But when I read/watched what “friends” of the Mukerjeas had to say on the subject, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry!
Welcome to the Friend-ship Club.
My children often ask me why I don’t have dozens of friends. I tell them I use that term — “friend” — with a great deal of caution. Who is a friend? In our business, I’d say, lucky are you if you can count five people ready to stand by you when the chips are down. Just five. I am not being cynical. Five is a huge number, as the Mukerjeas must have dis-covered after the scandal broke. The “friends” who were publicly and very gleefully trashing them across channels at prime time, were the same people who had sucked up to the duo in the past, and made money off them. Suddenly, these friends were ready to reveal all sorts of dirty secrets, which may have been shared at boozy get-togethers during better times. This was a cosy club with a common agenda.
Everybody was having a ball back in those days, when the Mukerjeas were being courted, wined and dined night after night by the same set of people. Nobody asked where the money was coming from... nor where it was going. So long as it was being lavishly thrown around. When that party finally ended, and the Mukerjeas left India, the vultures started circling other targets. That’s how it works. That’s how it has always worked.
So shall we just stop the ridiculous and hideously fake moral huffing and puffing? There are far many more socially ambi-tious demons than angels in this ghastly playground. More parasites and pariahs than thoroughbreds and pedigreed creatures. Even those who are talking pedigree, sound more like dog breeders than opinion makers. In this twisted and ma-cabre tale, nobody can emerge smelling of roses — least of all the “friends” who are busily twisting those knives.
The one person in this sordid scenario who comes away with a modicum of credibility is the driver. So far he is the only non-liar who has stuck to his story and come clean with the cops. Allegedly, all it took was Rs 5 lakh from his employer to buy his participation in the murder and the subsequent long silence. The man still lives in a shanty, and his wife appears totally bewildered by the gruesome revelations. While the modus operandi has been disclosed by the police, the motive is still unclear at the time of writing. What this “society crime” has actually unveiled is worthy of a detailed thesis in future. It is a reflection of the fragility of today’s relationships — even the most intimate ones. It forces us to confront the emptiness that is envelop-ing the modern Indian family.
Where is the much-talked-about love and loyalty? What of the myths surrounding the idealised “maa”, who willingly sacrifices her own life to save her child? And the adoring grandparents who put everything aside for the welfare of their grandchildren? What we are witnessing is a complete breakdown of an old construct. Those two concepts — parivar and samaj — no longer have the immeasurable emotional power they once wielded over our society. Alienation and isolation within nuclear and extended families are palpably on the increase, with countless victims seeking solutions... solace.
A quick read of Sheena’s diary reveals the real tragedy behind the grisly murder. The poor girl’s life was doomed from the start... it went downhill practically from the moment she was conceived. Sadly, even as far as 10 years ago, she seemed to have reconciled herself to her fate. Sheena has been dead for years. The murder was a technicality. What now? Will any of this matter once we move away from the three-ring circus? What about the bloodthirsty Mukerjea friends and their five seconds of prime time fame? Not to worry. They’ll still be in business. There will be more where this horror story came from.
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