We should stop nitpicking about the Commonwealth Games

Why is it exactly that the mess over the preparations for the Commonwealth Games has upset us so much?

There are some obvious reasons: the money spent, the budget increases, the delays, the apparent corruption or at least nepotism in the awarding of contracts and the shoddy infrastructure.

But let’s be honest. These are all things we are well used to. The scale in this case may be magnificent — I do not know how to get my head around Rs70,000 crore spent because I cannot conceptualise so much money — but each element by itself is familiar.

Then there are the questions around the Games — did we need to do this at all? Should we have spent the money on feeding the starving poor? Or at least creating grassroots sports facilities? Is hosting such a sports event really going to boost Indian sport? And so on, the usual existential, breast-beating, bleeding hearts routine.

Then we can give ourselves a break and consider that a lot of the complaints are just plain nitpicking and whinging.

Okay, so there were a few paan stains on the corridors and a snake here and there. It was clear from the beginning that the international, particularly the western media, was going to be tough to handle because they usually have it in for India and especially India’s so-called growth story. And Australia is a permanent whiner when it comes to stuff like this, as we know from the way they play cricket. It’s not like any international sporting event is ever perfect.

Okay, so on two counts, there’s business as usual mixed with normal Indian philosophising and then on the other there’s the benefit of the doubt. But still you know, justifying it just doesn’t help. The whole thing is irksome.

So after much thought I have decided that it’s those horrible smug, sanctimonious, shameless people in charge. (Okay, maybe I am being sanctimonious here but just run with it.)

First, there’s the charming Lalit Bhanot and his refreshingly honest revelations about his standards of hygiene. Who would admit to the world that for him, dog excrement in the bedroom is par for the course? Surely, only a man truly in touch with his inner Zen space. Or, at a pinch, an extreme dog lover or perhaps some kind of fetishist. Normally, though, these tendencies are kept under wraps. But Bhanotji is open and fearless.

Next, our delightful chief minister of New Delhi, Madam Sheila Dixit who is always calm and never panics. Bridge has fallen down? Don’t be silly and make such a fuss, it wasn’t even for the athletes. Just for spectators.

Terrorist attack? What me worry? Naah. Dengue? Hee hee hee. Yamuna in spate? Ho ho ho. Such sanguinity in the face of crisis can only be admired.

Then, our honourable sports minister, MS Gill who takes such pains to describe to us how during an Indian wedding, the night before you run out laddoos and marigold flowers and then magically the next morning there are enough for the baraatis.

Well, we also know how parents have strokes and heart attacks during such badly organised weddings and baraatis can kick up a mighty fuss. Don’t the Scots, Welsh, Brits in general, Aussies and Kiwis sound like baraatis.

The final place is for the elusive Suresh Kalmadi who bit off so much that he now has permanent indigestion. It takes a lot of effort, I assume, to swallow Rs70,000 crore.