WE Indians, specially the middle class, easily get awe-struck by any and every thing. The subjects of our admiration could be, as expected, film stars or even someone driving a brand new, expensive car or somebody building a mansion. There is yet another trait that is common to most Indians. I call it the bhed-chaal mentality (to blindly follow others).

We rarely pause to think why we are reacting in a particular manner. We view with envy and admiration anybody driving an expensive car, but we rarely raise the question whether the man has bought the car with black money?

Post-Independence, India has produced a large number of self-centered nationals. We do not get upset by garbage piling around our homes, polythene bags strewn around, trees being cut with impunity, and liquor shops mushrooming all over. And, if you happen to be one who gets disturbed and pained by this erosion of values and refuses to indulge in bhed-chaal, be prepared to be dubbed as a "cynic" or an "eccentric."

Allow me to tell you the story of one such "cynic" called Brij Bedi. He was a rich businessman of Amritsar, who used to produce machines. The slump in the market forced him to shut down his business, but his mind refused to stop working overtime, as always. He grew as a sensitive painter, an energetic tennis player and a creative photographer.

Brij Bedi’s sensitivity was outraged when he saw vulgar posters of C-grade films pasted all over the town. This one-man army began campaigning against this offensive display. He clicked these posters and knocked the doors of police and the administration but to no avail. Undeterred, he continued to prick the conscience of any and everybody who came his way. He confronted the owners of cinema halls and bureaucrats. The "cynical" and "eccentric" Brij Bedi had the guts to call a spade a spade. He stopped the car of Dr Baldev Raj Chawla, Cabinet Minister for Health, and forced him to look at these indecent posters. When Dr Chawla cried out, "Oh! My God!" Bedi promptly retorted, "Sir, such Gods are everywhere in Amritsar." Not that the Minister took any effective steps but it was Bedi’s own perseverance that finally fetched results and the posters were removed.

Bedi not only refrains from blindly following others, but is also a man who pauses and thinks. He decided to fight against the menace of drug addiction that has afflicted a large number of residents of Amritsar. He went from colony to colony, interacting with thousands of people and trying to ascertain the basic causes of this menace. He realised that illiteracy and lack of awareness were the major reasons for getting hooked on drugs. To educate people on this subject, Bedi produced and directed a film called Navjyoti.

Did Bedi’s concern ended with the making of the film? No, he remains concerned and worried about drug-addiction even today. Only recently, when he discovered that one particular locality of Amritsar, Maqboolpura, is the worst hit by this menace, he decided to meet Master Ajit Singh, a volunteer working in the area. After a couple of meetings, he finally adopted 20 children whose fathers had died because of this lethal craving.

Don’t be surprised, if you find Brij Bedi standing in the middle of a chowk and directing the traffic. Surely, the majority of you will call him "cynical" and "eccentric" but what can Bedi do, for he is neither self-centered nor selfish enough to just mind his business. He gets aghast at the way people violate traffic rules, endangering lives on the road.

Similarly, when the centuries-old paintings and murals at Baba Atal Sahib were being replaced with ordinary tiles, Bedi refused to look the other way, a practice followed by most Indians. He took photos of those paintings and murals and raised the issue not only at the national but also at the international level. Curators from all over the world rushed to Amritsar and finally the caretakers of the gurdwara and the SGPC realised the worth of the treasure they were going to replace with tiles.

Brij Bedi’s responsive attitude comes as quite a contrast to the widespread callousness shown by most people around us. When he couldn’t digest the pathetic surroundings of Sadar police station, Amritsar, he came up with certain ideas. He succeeded in persuading schoolchildren as well as police personnel to beautify the whole area. The thick congress grass on the police station premises was removed and Ashoka trees were planted. He also donated chairs and flowerpots to add to the aesthetics of the place.

Amritsar, the summer capital of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, still has remnants of the golden era in the form of the Ram Bagh in the middle of the city. Brij Bedi cannot stop lamenting the poor upkeep of this garden. In front of the no-parking zone, the ugly sight of taxis parked in a haphazard manner has given him sleepless nights. He knocked the doors of police and bureaucracy but once again to no avail. Finally, one day, provoked and frustrated, he went to the taxi stand and confronted the taxi drivers. he asked them whether they had permission to park their vehicles there. Within no time all drivers sped away. Bedi ensured that they did not return to deface the area by cleaning and beautifying it.

To this lone crusader, promoting creativity comes rather naturally. Recently, he invited art students from Baroda and Banaras. The 15-days workshop at his factory was full of imaginative surprises. At the end, I wish that every sheep (read Indian) could turn "cynical" and "eccentric".