The first is the "raincoat" metaphor recently used in parliament by our present Prime Minister to describe his predecessor. The second is the acronym SCAM, differently interpreted by rival parties in the current, magnificently fraught UP election.
How could one escape without a hint of scandal when scams were raining all around one, asked PM Modi? Is this not like a man who wears a raincoat in the bathroom?
This metaphor is as brilliant as it is bruising - for at least three reasons.
First, a bath is assumed to be cleansing, but this imagery startlingly reverses the premise. Here, what's being alluded to is a shower of politically tainted happenings against which a "raincoat" offered protection. Corruption and cleanliness are thus merged to great effect here. The implication is that one may appear squeaky clean, but this is only because of a "raincoat effect." The truth, it suggests, could be murkier.
Second, while the sentence was spoken in Hindi, the keywords in it were actually borrowings from English - "raincoat" and "bathroom". This bilingual usage, whether intentional or not, has the immediate effect of distancing the person being spoken about from the everyday lived context of life on the subcontinent. How many people in India use raincoats after all? The protection of choice from the rain among millions of Indians is, unquestionably, the ubiquitous umbrella or chaata. So, why was the word "raincoat" used rather than "umbrella"? Not only because it is "foreign-izing", but perhaps also because, unlike the umbrella, it sheathes the entire body. A person is at his most vulnerable and unprotected in the "bathroom", and yet, this particular individual, the image suggests, is fully armoured even in this "shame space". This is the second reversal of expectations offered by the metaphor.
Not surprisingly, the image provoked a sharp response from Rahul
Gandhi, the Vice President of the main opposition party (to which the former PM
belonged), who subsequently likened the PM to someone who liked peering into
"other people's bathrooms." This reaction in turn has now extended
the scope of the first metaphor, contributing to a "discourse space"
that reflects the complex adversarial politics of our country.
Third, the PM's metaphor irresistibly references the theme of the Swachh Bharat (Clean India) campaign, a signature program of his government. In this sense, this seemingly off-the-cuff image succeeds in drawing a provocative line between the inheritance of a past PM and the parliamentary presence of a current one. Designed not only to finger-point - although it does this with considerable relish - but also to aggrandize the self-image of a super-clean party with a super-clean leader, this metaphor seems poised to lodge itself in the country's political memory almost indelibly.
Third, the PM's metaphor irresistibly references the theme of the Swachh Bharat (Clean India) campaign, a signature program of his government. In this sense, this seemingly off-the-cuff image succeeds in drawing a provocative line between the inheritance of a past PM and the parliamentary presence of a current one. Designed not only to finger-point - although it does this with considerable relish - but also to aggrandize the self-image of a super-clean party with a super-clean leader, this metaphor seems poised to lodge itself in the country's political memory almost indelibly.
Moving on to another set of linguistic inventions that also connote "dirty politics", let us consider a word that we've come to embrace perhaps a little too intimately in the recent past: "scam".
In the battle for UP - where the electoral stakes are arguably higher
than in any other Indian state - the PM once again set the ball rolling when he
made a blistering speech in Meerut earlier this month, foregrounding
demonetization and "clean-up" measures by his party. According to
reports, his precise words were: "By SCAM, I mean, S - Samajwadi (Party),
C - Congress, A - Akhilesh (Yadav), M - Mayawati."
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