From the Trivandrum Club

Spirits often provoke lively debates on spiritual, philosophical, or political matters, but these can spiral into arguments. It’s best to tread lightly, lest the soothing qualities of even the finest single malt be lost to discord.

Yesterday evening, three of us—my brother-in-law A, my friend T, and I—gathered at the club. We sat in the air-conditioned bar, away from the IPL match blaring on the big screen outside. T and I, as usual, dove into a familiar, lighthearted topic—one we revisit for its absurdity and humor, far more relaxing than weighty subjects. It’s refreshing to banter like teenagers, even when we’re well past fifty.

But the conversation soon turned to the upcoming elections and the candidates in our Trivandrum constituency. A and I favored the LDF-supported independent candidate, not just for his character but because his rival represents a legacy of graft, sleaze, corruption, nepotism, and money power. This opponent, notorious for political defections, is the son of a former Kerala chief minister whose tenure was marred by scandal. T, however, was visibly upset, staunchly defending his candidate. He argued that the man could deliver results and that, despite his father’s corruption, he had driven developmental changes in the state. T pointed to states like Bihar, Odisha, and Gujarat as examples of progress, singling out Narendra Modi’s Gujarat for its transformation. I countered that it’s reckless to praise Modi’s so-called development, which masks a parochial agenda and the ethnic and religious cleansing tied to his leadership. We challenged T: how is Modi different from Adolf Hitler when it comes to the systematic targeting of minorities? With the UPA weakened by its own scandals, the ominous prospect of Modi as a potential prime minister looms if the BJP wins the next general election. T insisted the reports of Modi’s role in the riots a decade ago were exaggerated. To clarify, T is no Hindu fanatic or VHP activist; he’s a Roman Catholic, a regular churchgoer, witty, likable, and someone who avoids gossip or malice.

Returning to our constituency’s candidate, T grew peeved but wouldn’t concede. He struggled to counter our points, eventually admitting, somewhat sheepishly, that his parish church had organized a felicitation for this candidate. A pastoral letter had instructed the congregation to vote for him. I left wondering why an educated man like T couldn’t break free from external pressures and think independently. Why let prelates with their own agendas dictate choices? This same church hierarchy once condemned Latin America’s “liberation theology” for challenging U.S.-backed regimes in the last century. It also failed to unequivocally denounce the atrocities following the voyages of Christopher Columbus and Vasco da Gama, the Inquisition, or the Crusades. More recently, it offered no solace to Professor T.J. Joseph of Newman College, whose limbs were brutally severed by Islamic extremists a year ago.

This blind acceptance perplexes me—it dismisses reason and independent thought. Yet, perhaps the diversity of opinions adds zest to life. I can’t shut out someone like T just for holding a different view. Maybe, someday, our perspectives will align.