The differently intelligent

Oh what a relief ! I have found an antidote to the new breed of intelligentsia that is hounding the Bangla talk shows nowadays. Our very own chaiwalla knows a thing or two about the arts, believe me. He can keep a count on the innumerable cuppas that does the round. He can simultaneously keep a tab on all the cigarattes, without which the thinking Bengali fails to stimulate his overworked brains. He does break into a Bhojpuri song whenever he is in his best re-re-brewing mood and can also very aptly transition to a dramatis persona when  need arises to collect money from the upteenth credit seeker (only for the sake of treatment for his long dead father). He has qualities of all the intellectuals put together, either red or green or pseudo neutral, and more. He can actually keep the gossip going by chipping in with his wily bits when the orders for fresh rounds of chai diminishes according to the theory of marginal propensity to consume.

The new breed of intellectuals are mostly indoctrinated, either way. They come in all shapes and sizes, bald and bearded, articulate or abusive, provocative or believing, powerful or power seeking, famous or infamous, in every way one can't envisage them to be. Nowadays they seldom wear that trademarked crumpled khaddar punjabi with a frayed pajama and can suddenly drop upon you like the infamous London drizzle. You don't even have the chance to dodge as you cant differentiate them now sans their traditional course cotton jhola, that unkempt beard and those pearcing eyes staring at your heart from behind thick rimmed glasses. The original ones were available aplenty on the hard benches of Presidency canteen, on the steel chairs of the Coffee House, or on many stimulating staircases and porticos around the city. The alma mater of all intellectuals happened to be the little magazine shelter in the Maidan Book Fair and one was free to experience the Great Thinkers if one did not mind sitting on green grass and enjoy the smell of dried grass all around. They had a air, an aura, a buzz of intellectualism around them, and revered as they were, you had a chance of giving yourself a miss, if you so wished. But they were dogmatic and spoke about their belief without any trace of vengeance. Not any more. The new breed now hound you down to your drawing room, in your bed room, or any other room you may have placed your television in, and try to shout each other down inelegantly, depending on which colour they happen to wear that day. But they do make you think, like they used to even before, a little differently though. Now they are intellectually 'us' and 'them'. If you are with us, you are not them. If you are with them, you are not us. 

Let me get our famed chaiwalla back here as I cant handle so much of intelligence alone. He is partisan too, towards his own art. He is not bothered if his patrons are black or white, high or low. He draws power from his skills and does whatever is required to keep that growing. He is neither vague, nor divisive, only committed. He is a microcosm of the society at large, but equally participative in her macro element by virtue of being the pivot of a binding togetherness. Many new faces surface in the adda every now and then. Some stick on, some don't. Some revel, some get addicted. A whole new social order and space emerges surrounding the steaming cuppas and he seems to hold the mirror to one's face for one to unashamedly see one's reflection over time, and course correct like a shining knight. He is the custodian of our right to argue, right to disagree, right to dissent and still be ever helpful thick friends. He is the one constant in our ever transforming mind game, who does not transgress, yet does not let us regress beyond recognition. He is the true intellectual. And thankfully, he does not need to bang on our head every time to prove he is not.