Down! Down! protest marches kept happening. Thousands marched together, shouting “Down! Down!” in unison from the pits of their stomachs. They seemed to have resolved to attain a martyr’s death after a noble display of collective blood vomiting. When those sitting on the lawn inside the park heard the protest slogans coming from the street, they ran outside to watch. The protest marches moved toward available vacant plots, and onlookers rushed to find good spots. In those days of high living costs, this was the only free entertainment available, and listening to a good speech was as satisfying as a full concert by a senior musician. Since they had been doing these speeches for a hundred years or so now, they had really mastered the subtleties, much like how, after puberty, a devadasi girl came to master the nuances of her trade.

The age of the loudspeaker had dawned. Politicians, religious leaders, writers, priests, musicians, publicists—all screamed themselves hoarse into loudspeakers. Even funeral services were relayed on loudspeakers from cemeteries and burning grounds! And endless chants to Rama from the Brahmin quarters. Priests spurred on by the presence of the loudspeaker screamed into it, not bothered that their topknots had come undone in their frenzy. The unrest induced by the loudspeaker was now all-pervading.

At public meetings, both local speakers as well as out-of-towners pilloried the government mercilessly. Sometimes, they restrained themselves and stopped with cautionary remarks. Sometimes, they ridiculed the government. At other times, they started crying. When people were already assailed by miseries, here was the government trying to provoke them with yet another disastrous scheme of some kind. Now they really lost it. Choking with anguish, they unleashed their emotions and spat out blood-soaked words at the government. When they cried out, “Mr. Nehru!” raising their arms in front of them like Jesus, the force of that appeal and sentiment convinced everyone that the great Mr. Nehru was present in the room, standing right next to them. And they reasoned: it was true that Gandhiji had been assassinated, but did that mean the injustices he enabled had died with him too? So sometimes the speakers resorted to attacking Gandhiji as well, addressing him as if he were present: “This is the result of your words . . . This is the result of your actions . . .” Their staunch humanism refused to let them hold anything sacred or above criticism. Sometimes, the passion born of their righteous anger made them resort to vulgarisms, for which they apologized to the esteemed gathering, but then they went right ahead with even more obscene language.