The Idea of Justice

I guess this is the redundant part of my writing and is entirely left to the readers discretion to
read or not to. Well, to begin with, I must bluntly express that I have had no idea, that on
the 5 Th of August,2009 (Wednesday) our city would yet again witness the auspicious
presence of one of the most reputed scholars of fame, Prof. Amartya Sen (Indeed, an
astonishing fact , esp. for a student pursuing post graduation in Economics.). But, despite all
shamefulness I must thank an acquaintance of mine; for informing me about the noble
laureate who was in Kolkata to deliver The Penguin Annual Lecture on Wednesday evening
at Nandan. Almost, immediately after hearing the news, two different contradictory plans
overcame me i.e. to go and attend the lecture or to skip the event. But as you always know,
students of Economics are generally good manipulators in their cost-benefit analysis and I
had to take recourse to this same tool in resolving the contradiction, of course in favor of my
predisposition. Let me illustrate, this in greater detail;
To go and attend the lecture (A Cost-Benefit Analysis)
Cost
(1) Traveling expense
(2) Dissatisfaction associated with going and not being able to attend the lecture, which
seemed highly probable
(3) Some of the mathematical assignments were still undone, which were reserved for the
evening
(4) I may return home late much to my parents anxiety
Benefit
(1) To hear and imbibe the ideas of the man that the world talks so often
(2) To boastfully proclaim my friends about watching the second Nobel laureate in
Economics, after Prof. Joseph Stiglitz
(3) It may add a bit to my vitae, perhaps (attending the seminar of a noble laureate is no
small thing)
(4) A break from monotonic diurnal routine

So in all possibilities, to go and attend the lecture seemed to me a more cognitive choice. I
reached Nandan almost one and a half hour before the event was supposed to start and
much to my apprehension found a long queue with everyone carrying an orange envelope,
which I presumed to be an invitation card. When I asked one of the regular staffs of Nandan
whether entry without the invitation card was possible, he vigorously nodded his head in
affirmation with my apprehension. But still I must admit the kindness of the man for he did his

best to introduce me to one of the organizers of the Penguin publishers and I began to speak
with utmost softness and humility, Sir Im a student of Economics pursuing my post
graduation from University of Calcutta, so . To which, the man made a steady reply,
So what., if you dont have an invitation card, Im sorry. I was clean bowled; this man with
his brief, professional and reposeful reply hardly offered me any scope for pleading and
nagging. Meanwhile, I noticed the queue (in front of Nandan-1) steadily increasing in length
much to my displeasure, but despite all oddity, I must mention that I had an uncanny sense
of feeling that waiting till the end may turn out to be judicious.
All of a sudden I noticed a girl smiling at me from that serpentine queue (the girl was
accompanied by one of her friend, presumably her boyfriend), when suddenly I remembered
her to be a student of my alma mater, I felt that she may serve to be the right person to hear
my tale of misery. In fact, she did listen to me carefully with the requisite compassion, which
no one for so long had even tried of. The girl assured me that she will certainly try something
to the best of her ability; I underestimated her abilities and thought what else she could say
and do and left them. I watched the queue getting ready to enter the auditorium and I began
to move out of that place with reluctance in mind and hardly any option left at hand.
I noticed some of the persons standing like scarecrows close to that fountain and I could
distinctly make out from their faces that they are on my side, they are the non-invitees, they
are the miserable creatures of the earth who do not even find an orange envelope to carry
with them, and they are nothing but trash. All sorts of things were coming to my mind
and I realized that, the more quickly I leave this place the lesser humiliation I would undergo
and I left the premise gathering a brisk space to the best of my physical ability. When all of a
sudden, I could faintly hear someone calling by my name and I turned around to find the girl I
had introduced to you earlier, running after me frantically and with half-eaten words spoke to
me in Bengali tor babastha hoye geche, icchhe thaklei upay hoy. She further added, Bolbi
tor deri hoye geche, keu Jodi jigges kore. She escorted me yet again to that same old place,
where I had been undergoing abasement for the last one hour. As we were yet again
approaching the entrance of Nandan-1, I found a group of men and women deliberately
jamming the gate, extremely vigil in their duty not to allow any one enter without the invitation
card. Dada apnar card I felt panicked, my friend brilliantly intervened saying, Sourin
Mama onakey niye ashte bollen, still there were frowning eyes with skeptical look all around,
at which she exhibited out her invitation card. One of the members from that group uttered,
Chele taake chere de, I breathed a sigh of relief; but truly speaking I could hardly make out
why they allowed me to enter; was it out of sheer compassion or the girls explanation left
them satisfied or perhaps the divine intervention.
Then we moved on to the 1st floor of the auditorium, where I was taken by surprise to find,
the cards being checked for the second time. I felt like running back to my home; I was
certainly not prepared for such an eventful day, when I marked a man gesturing something to
my friend, followed by an exchange of wry smile between them and then the man came right
up to my face and spoke in a low husky tone, Chup kore bhetore chole jao, aar kaau ke bolo

na; amar chakri chole jabe. At last we entered the auditorium and there was a noticeable
difference in the ambience, the air-condition offered the perfect temperature, a soft classical
music was distinctly audible, a sweet fragrance spread all over the air, two oppositely placed
screen projected rolling snaps of the scholar, right from his youth to his present day, the
podium was well decorated with flowers, then there was a table in the middle of the podium
with placards at two opposite ends reading Dr. Amartya Sen and Barkha Dutt, a large
hoarding placed right in the middle of the projection wall, which read:
The Penguin Annual Lecture
On
Justice- and India
By the noble laureate professor
Dr. Amartya Sen.
I sat beside the presumed boyfriend of the girl (although at the end of the event my
presumption transformed into conviction), the boy smiled at me and I smiled back in turn. We
got the perfect seat right in the middle of the auditorium from where we could get a
panoramic view of the center stage. Soon, I realized that the whos who of our city had come
to pay homage to this great personality, there was our Governor talking to his escorting
officer, there was Mrs. Nabonita Deb Sen, Mr. Avik Sarkar, editor-in-chief of the ABP group,
there were familiar faces of educationists, journalists, news reporter all eagerly awaiting the
arrival of Dr. Sen. Meanwhile, faces of those men and women who were outlawed from
attending the lecture came to my mind, may be some of them were still waiting near the
fountain with haggard look all around, to see the Nobel laureate enter the auditorium or
perhaps relentless debate and pleading were still continuing between those debarred souls
and the Penguin organizers, I felt a sense of terrible guilt for I belonged to them, I felt as if I
had done the most unjust thing to hear the idea of justice, I could not help but laugh at such
a paradoxical situation, that I was inby then, I had a profound Idea of Justice even before
hearing the man, whose portrait hangs in the main gallery of the Trinity College Cambridge.

N.B. - The Idea of Justice is the book written by Prof. Amartya Sen, after Identity and
Violence.