my own idea of justice

8/10/2019 My own Idea of Justice

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The Idea of Justice

I guess this is the redundant part of my writing and is entirely left to the readers discretion to

read or not to. Well, to begin with, I must bluntly express that I have had no idea, that on

the 5 Th of August,2009 (Wednesday) our city would yet again witness the auspiciouspresence of one of the most reputed scholars of fame, Prof. Amartya Sen (Indeed, an

astonishing fact , esp. for a student pursuing post graduation in Economics.). But, despite all

shamefulness I must thank an acquaintance of mine; for informing me about the noble

laureate who was in Kolkata to deliver The Penguin Annual Lecture on Wednesday evening

at Nandan. Almost, immediately after hearing the news, two different contradictory plans

overcame me i.e. to go and attend the lecture or to skip the event. But as you always know,

students of Economics are generally good manipulators in their cost-benefit analysis and I

had to take recourse to this same tool in resolving the contradiction, of course in favor of my

predisposition. Let me illustrate, this in greater detail;

To go and attend the lecture (A Cost-Benefit Analysis)

Cost

(1) Traveling expense

(2) Dissatisfaction associated with going and not being able to attend the lecture, which

seemed highly probable

(3) Some of the mathematical assignments were still undone, which were reserved for the

evening

(4) I may return home late much to my parents anxiety

Benefit

(1) To hear and imbibe the ideas of the man that the world talks so often

(2) To boastfully proclaim my friends about watching the second Nobel laureate in

Economics, after Prof. Joseph Stiglitz

(3) It may add a bit to my vitae, perhaps (attending the seminar of a noble laureate is no

small thing)

(4) A break from monotonic diurnal routine

So in all possibilities, to go and attend the lecture seemed to me a more cognitive choice. I

reached Nandan almost one and a half hour before the event was supposed to start and

much to my apprehension found a long queue with everyone carrying an orange envelope,

which I presumed to be an invitation card. When I asked one of the regular staffs of Nandan

whether entry without the invitation card was possible, he vigorously nodded his head in

affirmation with my apprehension. But still I must admit the kindness of the man for he did his


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best to introduce me to one of the organizers of the Penguin publishers and I began to speak

with utmost softness and humility, Sir Im a student of Economics pursuing my post

graduation from University of Calcutta, so . To which, the man made a steady reply,

So what., if you dont have an invitation card, Im sorry. I was clean bowled; this man with

his brief, professional and reposeful reply hardly offered me any scope for pleading and

nagging. Meanwhile, I noticed the queue (in front of Nandan-1) steadily increasing in length

much to my displeasure, but despite all oddity, I must mention that I had an uncanny sense

of feeling that waiting till the end may turn out to be judicious.

All of a sudden I noticed a girl smiling at me from that serpentine queue (the girl was

accompanied by one of her friend, presumably her boyfriend), when suddenly I remembered

her to be a student of my alma mater, I felt that she may serve to be the right person to hear

my tale of misery. In fact, she did listen to me carefully with the requisite compassion, which

no one for so long had even tried of. The girl assured me that she will certainly try something

to the best of her ability; I underestimated her abilities and thought what else she could say

and do and left them. I watched the queue getting ready to enter the auditorium and I beganto move out of that place with reluctance in mind and hardly any option left at hand.

I noticed some of the persons standing like scarecrows close to that fountain and I could

distinctly make out from their faces that they are on my side, they are the non-invitees, they

are the miserable creatures of the earth who do not even find an orange envelope to carry

with them, and they are nothing but trash. All sorts of things were coming to my mind

and I realized that, the more quickly I leave this place the lesser humiliation I would undergo

and I left the premise gathering a brisk space to the best of my physical ability. When all of a

sudden, I could faintly hear someone calling by my name and I turned around to find the girl I

had introduced to you earlier, running after me frantically and with half-eaten words spoke tome in Bengali tor babastha hoye geche, icchhe thaklei upay hoy. She further added, Bolbi

tor deri hoye geche, keu Jodi jigges kore. She escorted me yet again to that same old place,

where I had been undergoing abasement for the last one hour. As we were yet again

approaching the entrance of Nandan-1, I found a group of men and women deliberately

jamming the gate, extremely vigil in their duty not to allow any one enter without the invitation

card. Dada apnar card I felt panicked, my friend brilliantly intervened saying, Sourin

Mama onakey niye ashte bollen, still there were frowning eyes with skeptical look all around,

at which she exhibited out her invitation card. One of the members from that group uttered,

Chele taake chere de, I breathed a sigh of relief; but truly speaking I could hardly make out

why they allowed me to enter; was it out of sheer compassion or the girls explanation leftthem satisfied or perhaps the divine intervention.

Then we moved on to the 1st floor of the auditorium, where I was taken by surprise to find,

the cards being checked for the second time. I felt like running back to my home; I was

certainly not prepared for such an eventful day, when I marked a man gesturing something to

my friend, followed by an exchange of wry smile between them and then the man came right

up to my face and spoke in a low husky tone, Chup kore bhetore chole jao, aar kaau ke bolo


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na; amar chakri chole jabe. At last we entered the auditorium and there was a noticeable

difference in the ambience, the air-condition offered the perfect temperature, a soft classical

music was distinctly audible, a sweet fragrance spread all over the air, two oppositely placed

screen projected rolling snaps of the scholar, right from his youth to his present day, the

podium was well decorated with flowers, then there was a table in the middle of the podium

with placards at two opposite ends reading Dr. Amartya Sen and Barkha Dutt, a large

hoarding placed right in the middle of the projection wall, which read:

The Penguin Annual Lecture

On

Justice- and India

By the noble laureate professor

Dr. Amartya Sen.

I sat beside the presumed boyfriend of the girl (although at the end of the event my

presumption transformed into conviction), the boy smiled at me and I smiled back in turn. We

got the perfect seat right in the middle of the auditorium from where we could get a

panoramic view of the center stage. Soon, I realized that the whos who of our city had come

to pay homage to this great personality, there was our Governor talking to his escorting

officer, there was Mrs. Nabonita Deb Sen, Mr. Avik Sarkar, editor-in-chief of the ABP group,

there were familiar faces of educationists, journalists, news reporter all eagerly awaiting the

arrival of Dr. Sen. Meanwhile, faces of those men and women who were outlawed from

attending the lecture came to my mind, may be some of them were still waiting near the

fountain with haggard look all around, to see the Nobel laureate enter the auditorium orperhaps relentless debate and pleading were still continuing between those debarred souls

and the Penguin organizers, I felt a sense of terrible guilt for I belonged to them, I felt as if I

had done the most unjust thing to hear the idea of justice, I could not help but laugh at such

a paradoxical situation, that I was inby then, I had a profound Idea of Justice even before

hearing the man, whose portrait hangs in the main gallery of the Trinity College Cambridge.

N.B. - The Idea of Justice is the book written by Prof. Amartya Sen, after Identity and

Violence.

my own idea of justice

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