SUDDENLY, the papers are full of it. We have no less a person than the Union Home Minister, the august P Chidambaram himself, telling us, “The police nearly caught the man behind the blasts.” (Headline in The Indian Express, New Delhi edition, January 3). Indeed, this thought found emphatic utterance in many Prime Time TV News channels across the country. The Home Minister was referring, of course, to the perpetrators of the New Year’s Day blasts in Guwahati, which killed and wounded so many innocent people.

“Nearly caught”. Wow. That’s truly wonderful. The man may not know the larger significance of his utterance, but the fact remains that in one sweep, he has liberated the nation, perhaps even the world, from chains that bind. How? Let’s explain.

Imagine this scenario. It is time for breakfast in a busy household. As the breadwinner comes to the dining table, his mind is already on the scheduled ten AM meeting at his office. The way things are going, it will probably be the most important meeting of the year. The two children of the family, aged ten and eight, have had their baths, and are coming in to the room, too, hungry and eager to start the day. They too have important tests at school that day.

In strolls the lady of the house, the wife and mother, whose job as a homemaker may not be as high profile as that of the Union Home Minister. But make no mistake, her work is not to be sneezed at, either. Single-handedly, she shops, cooks, cleans, and makes sure that everybody in the family is fed with nourishing food before they leave the home. But where is the food today? Why is the table bare?

It’s bare because the lady “nearly” prepared it. She has heard the Home Minister’s speech, and has decided that what is good enough for the brilliant P C is good enough for her. And since he seems to think that “nearly” and “actually done” are one and the same thing, why should she quibble? From now on, she has decided, whenever the mood takes her, she will “nearly” cook. In one stroke, she has been freed from sweaty toils in a hot kitchen.

Or let’s picture this alternate scenario.

A host of mourning relatives surround the deathbed of a person in a city hospital. The man has just died. The attending physician arrives, examines the body, and declares him dead. Turning with satisfaction to the mourners, he tells them, “Don’t worry, I “nearly” cured him.”

H’m. So many fascinating scenarios come to mind.

Here’s a lawyer, talking to his client who has just now been awarded the death sentence. Naturally, the client is perturbed. “You promised a defence so solid that the judge would have no option but to release me, a free man, from jail in minutes,” he wails accusingly to his lawyer, even as the securitymen around him try to haul him off to prison again. “You promised!”

To which the lawyer, taking a cue from our Home Minister, says calmly, “Well, I nearly did, didn’t I?”

And then, take flying. A huge Airbus sits like a wounded duck on the runway. The passengers have been strapped into their seats for hours. Naturally, they are worried. What’s happening? Why are they still in Mumbai, when they should have been in Madrid/Melbourne/Montreal/Minnesota by now? Suddenly, a voice comes floating over the intercom. It’s the pilot. He sounds calm, unfazed. In tranquil tones, he tells the passengers, “Well, folks, that was great. We nearly took off. Thank you for nearly flying with us. Now you may please disembark…”

Or take, even, people from the arts. At a single stroke, the Home Minister has made life so much less stressful for the entire lot. And we know what stress does to people, don’t we? Nasty thing, stress. Leads to hypertension, heart attacks, and worse. So, obviously, the following scenarios can only be all to the good.

There is, for instance, this classical singer who can never reach the upper notes, beyond the middle octave of any Raag she is performing. This has always brought her jeers from the audience. Now, at last, she can stop feeling intimidated by them. As soon as they begin to pass loud comments about her untunefulness, she can set aside her taanpura and tell them in no uncertain terms, “What are you cribbing about? I nearly made it to the high notes, did I not?”

Actually, this “nearly” word has come rather late in the day. Think of how useful it would have been, to, for instance, Michelangelo as he was chipping away at that massive block of Carrara marble, trying to create his “David.” It took him more than two years of intensive work to get the final figure right. How useful it would have been if the “n” word had been around at that time! To the nobles of Florence who had commissioned the work, he would have shown them just a huge misshapen block of marble. Ignoring their consternation, he would have said proudly, “Look carefully! See? That block is nearly the statue of David that you wanted me to create!”

Of course our bureaucrats have always been adept at using the “n” word. Ask any Government engineer why the roads are so potholed, why the drains are perennially blocked, and the answer is sure to be “We are working on it, the project is “nearly” done, just wait and see how smooth the road will be, how efficiently the drains will be functioning in a few days/weeks/months/years.” People have been waiting patiently for years, but that “nearly” word still remains very much a part of their lexicon. Perhaps the Home Minister, after his stint with this Government, holding such important portfolios, has at last managed to learn a thing or two from the bureaucrats in his two Ministries.

All Things Considered, we should all be grateful to our Home Minister. With his simple words, he has managed to clear us of the illusion that “A Miss is as Good as a Mile”. This proverb was dinned into our heads at school and at home since early childhood. We were taught that it is immaterial how close you are to success. Failure is failure. In that earlier world, we were taught that the two – success and failure – were two distinct entities. The Home Minister’s words now teach us that there is a third option – “near success.” And how wonderful that this option is regarded as being as good as success itself!

And indeed, who are we to quibble? After all, the man is the ex-Finance Minister of a resurgent India . Surely he should know what he’s talking about? Or should that be “nearly” know what he is talking about? That is, “almost” know what he is talking about?

MITRA PHUKAN