Who killed KK?

The answer, most clearly, is the culture of callousness that dictates Indian living. It is inspired by a love for Jugaad, nudged by an affection for destiny, and encouraged by liberal enforcement.

The venue was operating at three times the capacity, perhaps the organizers did not dare to disappoint rowdy college unionists. The airconditioning was notably insufficient, but then who cares for such bourgeois trappings. The air quality was further violated by playful students, who sprayed carbon dioxide for entertainment.

The performer was visibly unwell, but his entourage avoided a possibly lifesaving hospital detour.

Anybody familiar with the area will know that even with preferential traffic movement, the Grand Hotel would be a clear half-hour driving distance, effectively two valuable hours were lost.

If the singer complained of uneasiness as reported, then even a halfwit Western impresario would have pressed the paramedic button.

But then, this is India, where the citizenry is licensed to be callous, as we do not respect even our own lives.

Just a few days back, two teenagers died in a rowing accident at the Dhakuria Lakes, right next gate to KK's venue. They could have been saved had the motorised life-saving boats not been rendered non-grata by pesky environmentalists, or so is the word.

A stark example is our perverse road traffic system, where rules are punitively enforced for motorised vehicles, but merrily in denial for cyclists and pedestrians.

Educated gentry in modern aircrafts stuffs the overhead bin with primitive zeal, while the seat belts are cutely regarded as fashion accessories. Elevators are packed beyond sardine can levels and queues are routinely violated, from banks to crematoriums.

A defensible subliminal backstory may be the tradition of shortages in every imaginable public scenario and how our forefathers were trained to overcome that.

Trains and buses were largely unreserved and boarding was as per Darwinism protocols, a pattern emulated in the Public Distribution System outlets, which stocked very few for a lot many.

The limited-edition forms, from education seats to gas connections, required athletic prowess and Haryanvi rudeness to acquire. As collateral damage, the value of life was undercut, validated by routine stampedes,  quarterly train crashes, and the painful Uphaar Cinema carnage.

In a truthful sense, everybody is to blame for the death of KK, courtesy this endemic callousness.

The organisers who greedily permitted the overcrowding, the authorities who ignored the obvious perils, the venue operators accountable for air circulation, the rascals who sprayed poisonous gases in vile jest, the policymakers who do not insist on venue ambulances, and the managers who ignored the health warnings and indeed, KK himself. For succumbing to the instinctive middle-class leanings of performing dutifully, even under unfair duress, and not responding responsibly to frantic pleas of the body.

The final frontier of every civilization is the spontaneous regard for order, but Indians merrily revel in chaos, unless painfully penalised. So perhaps Parliament should consider passing the KK Act, which makes conscious callousness a KalaPani offence, with mercy petitions null and void.