In times like these, what does one expect to hear from the prince of intellectuals of a subject like the "State of the Nation"? Not a mere cataloging of the national woes, certainly. But, regrettably, that is just about all one heard from Dr Karan Singh at the Prem Bhatia Memorial Lecture at the India International Centre recently. The event was listed in the morning papers' engagement columns as a memorial lecture-a lecture, mind you, and not just a talk, though even at a talk one expects to be given some new insights into the subject, some new light to be thrown at the little and less understood aspects of the issues involved. And, if it is termed a lecture on a grave theme like the "State of the Nation", especially by a "prince of the intellectuals" as Dr Karan Singh was designed by the day's chairman, Dr Manmohan Singh, one expects to return home from the lecture with one's mind ploughed.

But, Dr Karan Singh let his listeners down. From the very first sentence, he looked and sounded in a terrible haste, which turned out to be true later when he announced in a huff that he must leave immediately to catch a flight. He did not even have time for those in the audience who might have had a question or two to ask him on the issues he had dealt with, even if superficially.

Such disdainful attitude towards one's audience is, however, not peculiar to him. This is common to his class of producing intellectuals. Most of them come ill-prepared to the lecture-hall, engage in inane rituals and waste a lot of time in extolling each other. So much so, that often by the time they arrive at their subject, all their passion is already spent.

They deal with their subjects perfunctorily, often just summing up the contents of the last months' newspaper editorials and articles without adding anything original or novel of their own. Borrowed ideas and borrowed cliches are laced with a Sanskrit shloka and a random, matching Urdu couplet in a true secular spirit. That is often about all that is delivered in the name of a lecture. The audience claps at the end and the lecture is considered over before the bar closes and the dinner is announced in the nearby restaurant where everyone then takes recourse to whisky and soda (or, gin and tonic) to irrigate his or her parched cerebellum.