Spectator Quarks

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I first met with the word Spectator in my Pre-University English text which had a piece from the journal of that name by Addison and Steele. As a name for a periodical, it meant something like an impartial observer viewing the events without participating in them.

All of us are spectators in cinemas, theaters, cricket matches; and Romans in amphitheaters watching with tense anticipation the duel between the Slave and the Lion. From a safe distance.

But sometimes the bull in the ring jumps the fence and attacks the spectators. It is a price we pay for our violent entertainment.

But Spectator Quarks are a little different. These ride along with the two fighting contestants without actively participating in the fight; maybe cheering them up.

Lord Krishna was the epitome of a Spectator Quark...he had promised not to take active part in the battles but only to ride Arjun's chariot as a chauffeur. There was this Salya who was chosen as his chauffeur by Karna because Salya happened to be the best in his profession among the Kauravas. But unfortunately Salya was fond of the righteous Pandavas and so he was not exactly a Spectator Quark...he was constantly criticizing the technique of Karna. And nagging. That was the last straw.

I had this distressing experience in my Ph D Viva. My External Examiner, Prof T Pradhan was very kind to me and appreciating my answers. Our HoD, HNB was always kind to me and asked no questions at all, and smiling encouragingly. But my own Supervisor, the great SDM, would keep scowling and poking needlessly while I was battling my Arjun. A lesser soul than me would have hurled a deftly aimed piece of chalk.

About a couple of months back, Annajee was taking on our PM. There were Spectator Quarks on both sides. And a huge crowd of spectators in the Ramlila Maidan. Well, Annajee won the round handsomely.

But it so happens that one of Annajee's Spectator Quarks was beaten black and blue yesterday in front of TV Cameras by three intemperate youth, who were arrested.

Today I read that while the three were coming out of the courtroom, the Spectator Quarks on the other side smirked. And there was a pellmell and a thorough brawl.

And I guess there will be many more encounters of the quark kind for us to watch from the sidelines...unless the bulls cross the fence.

Maybe such heinous interactions are 'allowed' in Quantum Chromodynamics...I don't know.

Here is a charming account of such a brawl from Pickwick Papers:

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...Mr. Pickwick entered every word of this statement in his note-book, with
the view of communicating it to the club, as a singular instance of the
tenacity of life in horses under trying circumstances. The entry was
scarcely completed when they reached the Golden Cross. Down jumped the
driver, and out got Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr.
Winkle, who had been anxiously waiting the arrival of their illustrious
leader, crowded to welcome him.

'Here's your fare,' said Mr. Pickwick, holding out the shilling to the
driver.

What was the learned man's astonishment, when that unaccountable person
flung the money on the pavement, and requested in figurative terms to be
allowed the pleasure of fighting him (Mr. Pickwick) for the amount!

'You are mad,' said Mr. Snodgrass.

'Or drunk,' said Mr. Winkle.

'Or both,' said Mr. Tupman.

'Come on!' said the cab-driver, sparring away like clockwork. 'Come
on--all four on you.'

'Here's a lark!' shouted half a dozen hackney coachmen. 'Go to vork,
Sam!--and they crowded with great glee round the party.

'What's the row, Sam?' inquired one gentleman in black calico sleeves.

'Row!' replied the cabman, 'what did he want my number for?' 'I didn't
want your number,' said the astonished Mr. Pickwick.

'What did you take it for, then?' inquired the cabman.

'I didn't take it,' said Mr. Pickwick indignantly.

'Would anybody believe,' continued the cab-driver, appealing to the
crowd, 'would anybody believe as an informer'ud go about in a man's
cab, not only takin' down his number, but ev'ry word he says into the
bargain' (a light flashed upon Mr. Pickwick--it was the note-book).

'Did he though?' inquired another cabman.

'Yes, did he,' replied the first; 'and then arter aggerawatin' me to
assault him, gets three witnesses here to prove it. But I'll give it
him, if I've six months for it. Come on!' and the cabman dashed his hat
upon the ground, with a reckless disregard of his own private property,
and knocked Mr. Pickwick's spectacles off, and followed up the attack
with a blow on Mr. Pickwick's nose, and another on Mr. Pickwick's chest,
and a third in Mr. Snodgrass's eye, and a fourth, by way of variety,
in Mr. Tupman's waistcoat, and then danced into the road, and then back
again to the pavement, and finally dashed the whole temporary supply of
breath out of Mr. Winkle's body; and all in half a dozen seconds.

'Where's an officer?' said Mr. Snodgrass.

'Put 'em under the pump,' suggested a hot-pieman.

'You shall smart for this,' gasped Mr. Pickwick.

'Informers!' shouted the crowd.

'Come on,' cried the cabman, who had been sparring without cessation the
whole time.

The mob hitherto had been passive spectators of the scene, but as the
intelligence of the Pickwickians being informers was spread among
them, they began to canvass with considerable vivacity the propriety of
enforcing the heated pastry-vendor's proposition: and there is no saying
what acts of personal aggression they might have committed, had not the
affray been unexpectedly terminated by the interposition of a new-comer...

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