Whatever happened to the wit and repartee of an earlier era

Reporter’s Diary

The proceedings of the legislature begin with Question Hour when members pose questions to the government on various issues. While some questions are clever and put the government on the mat, most are pedestrian, and some bizarre. Sometimes, a question provides comic relief in an otherwise mundane session.

Sample this: “How many trees are there in the state?” This question by an MLA left even a seasoned politician like the then forest minister Gurupadappa Nagamarapalli flummoxed. The minister, however, quickly gathered his wits and shot back: “As many trees as the strands of hair on the forest minister’s head.”

To this came a repartee from BJP legislator S Suresh Kumar, who is now the primary and secondary education minister, “Thank God, M C Nanaiah is not the forest minister.” While Nagamarapalli had a thick mop of hair, Nanaiah, the law minister was almost bald!

Normally, members are not satisfied with the response provided by the government to their questions and engage in a verbal duel with the ministers. In contrast, while covering the proceedings of the legislative council, I had noticed that one particular senior member from Tumakuru always seemed to be convinced with the government’s reply and never raised a supplementary question.

One day, to the utter surprise of all, he expressed dissatisfaction at the minister’s response to his question and rose to ask a supplementary. But just then, there was a minor commotion in the House and the member had to resume his seat.

Barely a minute later, things had settled down and the chairman called upon him to address his question to the minister. The member stood up hesitantly. “Chairman sir, I have forgotten what I wanted to ask,” he said sheepishly. The House was in splits. Thus ended the poor man’s first attempt at jousting with the government.

I wrote a humorous piece about the incident, half-mocking the member, and I had expected him to be upset with me. Instead, the next day, he walked towards the press gallery with a wide grin and expressed his gratitude: “Thank you very much for the beautiful report. I am very happy you mentioned my name.” I couldn’t help letting out a chuckle. To him, that his name appeared in print was more important than the context in which it did.

While the sessions of the legislature provide an opportunity to the lawmakers to put the government on the mat over unfulfilled promises, over the years, ministers have mastered the art of wriggling out of tricky situations. One standard reply is: “The matter is under consideration.”

This would usually satisfy the members -- until JH Patel, who was the chief minister from 1996 to 1999, let the cat out of the bag. “In the House of Commons”, he explained in an Yes, minister-esque revelation, “When the minister says the file is ‘under active consideration’ what he actually means is, he has not yet seen the file. When he says the file is ‘under consideration’, it means the file does not even exist.”

Patel was a forthright man, and witty, too. But sometimes, he fell victim to one or both of those characteristics. Once, Patel made a sarcastic remark on the way elections were held in Uttar Pradesh. “In UP, there is a class called Rigvedis—those who rig polls.” Suresh Kumar, punning on Patel’s self-confessed love for wine, retorted: “In Karnataka, we have a class called Pegvedis.” The chief minister had a hearty laugh.

Such repartees were common as both sides took them in their stride, enlivening the proceedings. Today, even members with a sense of humour think twice before cracking a joke because people are so easily offended.

No surprise then that legislature sessions these days can easily put one to sleep.