The saddest thing about the Indian Museum?s stolen Buddha is the comedy of the aftermath. This is the comedy of belatedness, of a bemused, but concerted ineffectuality that is left with nothing much to cling to other than desperate, clueless and self-important bureaucratese. And most of this is helplessly funny. It would have been entirely funny if some fundamental things had not been at stake as well ? such as a nation?s ability to preserve its invaluable resources, tangible and intangible. Consider the latest scenario. The beautiful head from the Gupta period (although with a broken nose) was stolen on December 29, in broad daylight, from a national museum of international repute that houses countless other priceless objects. In these nine days, not only has the head not been traced but a minor drama of inimitable ridiculousness has been unfolding around its disappearance.

Everybody, from the lowest-ranking security guard to the governor of West Bengal, together with directors, vice-chancellors, ministers, police chiefs, members of a wide array of internal and external committees, have been making incredulous noises. Responsibilities are being augustly shifted from the police to the CBI, from state to Centre, from the museum to the Archeological Society, and the Interpol is being appealed to. Simultaneously, momentous discoveries are being made by the detectives and their dogs ? five fingerprints, a loose glass pane ? followed by equally momentous deductions: the thief must have been an insider, the head must have left the country, it must have been sold in the black market. Each of these is being sagely figured out and solemnly announced after countless committee meetings, deliberations and decisions. Follow-up meetings are being planned and postponed. In between, files are not being passed on, notifications are not being made, feelings are being hurt and formal expectations being offended. Yet, the ?findings? made so far demand only the simplest common sense. It should be nothing less than embarrassing that the nation?s highest security agencies have been engaged to arrive at these findings. None of the revelations has remotely surprised anybody, especially after the theft of the Nobel and its equally tragicomic aftermath.

Everybody knows, but does not really care, that the security system in the museum is less than minimal, and has been so since time immemorial. Nobody seems to know how these things are done everywhere else in the world. Everybody knows, but cares just as little, that there are wicked insiders in these museums with access to international smugglers. All the amazement, fuss and officiousness come after the loot. Meanwhile, ?the wonder that was India? recedes that much more into a dimly mythical past.