A dock docked. Photo by Eric Gonzalez/Unsplash

Nano has made a joke out of Bengal – a cruel, real, practical joke. The entire world was waiting keenly to see if nano comes out of the greenfield venture in Singur. And we know, well almost, that it won’t. Where it goes from here is secondary. But one thing is for sure. As the factory moves out in small parcels out of Singur, it takes away with it hope; that hope which French dramatist Jean Anouilh called ‘that foul, deceitful thing’. Hope for a better, more industrial and urbane way of life was indeed what the people of Bengal wanted. And it has turned out to be as foul, as deceitful as it has always been.

Bengal was doomed. Bengal is doomed.

We know Mamata Banerjee is indulging in mindless political roguery. We also know how she has imported an anti-Bhadrolok, sordid kind of language into Bengal politics. But what was unknown is the kind of blood she has drawn into her ways of politicking. And much of this is because CPM, in the post-Nandigram scenario, is scarred for life. Mamata is having fun without knowing that she has become a caricature of her own, otherwise marketable self. Mamata has taken her liking for CPM’s erstwhile demagoguery beyond her control. It’s a desperate cycle of egoistic self-satisfaction, but at the cost of destroying a generation’s aspiration.

But beyond Mamata and Singur lies a deeper question. Singur had unprecedented support in Bengal — from the not only the industry and the government, the media, the middle class but also the man on the street and even a part of the huge rural constituency. They all wanted Singur to take shape; everyone, expect Mamata and few of her acolytes. The fact that Mamata has triumphed shows how little the will of the people ultimately matters to our political class. If this is the true nature of politics, let it then be the first refuge of the scoundrel. And how foolish are we to think otherwise.