Okay. It’s over. You can come out from under the table and stop hysterically humming “Laaj rakho Girdhari”. Your Girdhari has delivered. You have not been stripped and shamed as ruthlessly as Dushasan had attempted. Remarkable young women and men have stepped in to protect your honour, to unfailingly cover you with pride. What could have been your hour of shame has magically turned into your hour of glory.
The Commonwealth Games (CWG) is a grand success. We have won 38 gold medals and more than a hundred medals in all, second only to Australia. And it has truly been a win for India — held up by extraordinary talent from all across the country and dramatically different economic backgrounds. If Abhinav Bindra’s gold in rifle shooting underlined his ability to afford first-rate training facilities (as the super shooter had highlighted after winning India’s first ever Olympic gold), Deepika Kumari’s gold in archery proved how an autorickshaw driver’s daughter can overcome social and financial odds to get to the top on sheer grit and excellence. We have showcased our rich tapestry of energy and talent stretching from our villages through slums and tenement houses, from urban middle-class homes right up to the posh villas and polished lives. We have shown how we can pick our way through incredible odds to pick the pearl from the cobra’s hood.
Not that Dushasan — or Mr Bad Governance, in English — was all bad. He did fall in line for a while — and made sure that other stuff didn’t go wrong. About 100,000 military and police personnel kept terrorist attacks at bay. Last moment crisis management prevented other embarrassments — participants were not felled by dengue or malaria or diseases caused by bad hygiene. The stadiums and galleries did not collapse. And toddling through the fantastic chaos of bad planning and bungled schemes, finally Delhi did manage to be an adequate host.
Of course CWG 2010 had begun disastrously. We were convinced that after seven years and Rs 30,000 crore, instead of showing off the emerging Asian giant, we would showcase our national shame. Why, even A.R. Rahman’s CWG anthem was initially a flop. Apparently when chief CWG messmaker Suresh Kalmadi called up Rahman requesting a better anthem Rahman had played him a song which he suggested as more appropriate: “Rote Rote kaayko hum… hona hai jo ho, sad hote kaayko hum… Cry cry, itna cry karte hain kaayko… (Why do we cry so much… just let whatever happen, why are we so sad… Cry, cry, why do we cry so much…)”.
The crying shame was that no one appreciated the stimulating new dimension we had added to the CWG, transforming it into an adventure sports event. Dodge falling pillars and collapsing bridges, wade through the floodwaters of the Yamuna, duck dengue mosquitoes, live with snakes, take up the challenge of staying in squalor, in filthy flats with shit and paan-stains and paw-marks on mattresses, beds that collapse the moment you sit on them and staircases with railings falling off. And of course there may be terrorists — the thrill pill for true adventure seekers. It was straight out of one of those reality television shows on celebrities facing incredible challenges and struggling for survival in the wild.
Meanwhile, the Delhi government made soothing noises. You have fresh new buses and the world’s largest bus depot, brand new infrastructure, a fine new Metro network, a beautiful city. See, we have driven the beggars off the streets and demolished slums. Our dogcatchers have caught hundreds of dogs. Our snakecharmers are catching snakes at the Games Village. Don’t worry, be happy.
Curiously, CWG 2010 has showcased both our strengths and our weaknesses. It is now palpably clear once again that we have no scarcity of talent. We are simply being choked to death by people who are supposed to serve the country — government officials, both leaders and administrators. We take the best talent and make everything touched by government schemes substandard, like the collapsing bridges and false ceilings and beds. How else would our babus, netas and cops maintain their lifestyles? We must pamper them to get our routine work done, to get our entitlements, to get our due. It is not just Suresh Kalmadi, but the entire network of corrupt officials, ministers, bureaucrats and private firms that we need to target.
When money makes our world go round, quality is never a priority. Substandard and shabby infrastructure did shame us in the eyes of the world, but even more shameful is the brazen exploitation of even the poorest Indians by government servants. Like when one million households are denied public hospital services because they cannot pay bribes, it shames us far more than filthy quarters and leaking roofs at games venues ever could.
For now, Dushasan has been splendidly defeated by our girls and boys out in the arena. But he will attempt to dishonour you again. To permanently get rid of Mr Bad Governance we must address the larger issues of shameless corruption, lack of accountability, governance failure, human rights abuse and the long-term costs of all these.
Take just Delhi, for example. We have new infrastructure but it is not what you paid for. Then about 400,000 urban poor have been displaced by the Games, in order to beautify the city for visitors. Only a third of these unfortunate Delhiites have been rehabilitated. And according to a study by the NGO Hazard Centre, the people of Delhi will pay the price of the Games for decades through hiked taxes and prices.
One way of making up for Mr Bad Governance’s alarming corruption and mismanagement would be to use the Games venues for proper training of our sports people. Now that we know what we are capable of and have adequate facilities — and have started waxing eloquent about the Olympics — we had better get down to training our boys and girls good and proper.
Besides, the country’s prestige is not measured by mega events alone. Prestige comes from talent, excellence, human values, good governance. We have no dearth of talent and excellence. But we need to work hard on our values and on good governance. We must not let Dushasan threaten our honour so flamboyantly ever again.

Antara Dev Sen is editor of The Little Magazine.
She can be contacted at sen@littlemag.com