Of Dreams, Undreamt…

If every dream remains just that,

then, what is life?

If every dream is fulfilled,

why dream at all?

If there are no dreams to dream,

then, what is life?

If dreams keep us just awake,

why dream at all?

If all hopes are realized

all urges met,

all aspirations fulfilled,

all desires satiated,

all fears conquered,

what is the challenge in life?

If all peaks are climbed,

all destinations visited,

all seas sailed,

what is there, left for tomorrow?

If there is no tomorrow,

what is left of today???

Adieu to you

Maqbool Fida Hussain breathed his last

In distant London, far far away from his homeland.

I bow my head in his memory…

And at the same time

I hang my head in shame.

Hussain, all of 95 years, was an Indian.

His paintings portrayed the life and times of India,

Its history too, in its myriad colours.

He lived an Indian, every bit of it.

But,

He couldn’t die an Indian…

We didn’t let him die an Indian…

We didn’t want him in his own country

And die here, this nonagenarian.

Obituaries will flow out in hundreds

From VIPs and VVIPs,

Discussions will abound in TV studios,

Editorials and lead articles will be aplenty

All extolling his brilliance, his creativity, his originality.

All will condole the demise of a celebrated artist

All crocodiles will crowd the media rooms today

As though Hussain was never let down.

But then

Why did no one want him in India?

Why did the media keep quiet?

Why did the Civil Society put the ostrich to shame?

Where did the political voices disappear?

Where did the secularists vanish?

Whatever happened to the Preamble and the Fundamental Rights in the Constitution

Which proclaimed a Secular Republic

Which stressed the right to freedom of speech and expression?

Why did the Courts of Law not take suo motu notice of the threat to the life of this 95-year-old man?

What did the government do to secure for Hussain his right to freedom of expression and right to life?

We will never get any answers from anyone, bar the meaningless eulogies.

Pray, tell me,

With what face will the Members of Parliament

Pay homage to Hussain, a member of their tribe,

Who couldn’t set his bare feet on his mother earth?

The same bare feet which walked the corridors of Parliament

After having been nominated by the President of India

For his countless contributions to national life…

Conferred Padma Shri, Padma Bhushan and Padma Vibhushan

And

What did the very same State

Do

To let him walk his beloved earth?

No, no one did anything,

For,

Hussain was politically inconvenient for everyone

And

Collectively,

They let him die in a foreign land.

Today,

They will issue the mandatory messages

 And heave a sigh of relief.

 I bow my head to Maqbool Fida Hussain.

 And

 I hang my head in shame

 For

 I too didn’t raise my voice for his cause…

The State of the Nation

Today, we are witnessing a great deal of disillusionment with politicians of all hues - left, right or centre - which found full expression at Jantar Mantar earlier this month, in full media glare.  You listen to the agitated public on the TV or the radio, you read `Letters to the Editor’ in newspapers and magazines, you glance through the blog-sites, and you can discern the disdain with which the ordinary citizen treats our politicians.  They are held responsible for every malaise in our society and they stand accused of murder and mayhem, misdemeanor and malfeasance.

So, what is it that has happened to the political system and the political leadership that there is such a trust deficit vis a vis the citizen and the political class in our country?  Is it not a fact that we are the ones who choose them to run the affairs of the nation and we get a chance periodically to renew and revise our mandate?  On a different plane, are we being true to ourselves if we assert that all politicians are corrupt and all others are paragons of virtue? We have many leaders in public life who are honest, sincere and committed.  If you look around, you will see for yourself that every section of society is grappling with corruption and other similar maladies – be it the judiciary, the civil service, the media or even the civil society, of course, in varying degrees. We are also increasingly hearing about corruption in the private sector. But, yes, as leaders elected by us to govern us, we expect better from our political leadership:  for, they have to lead by example.

So, how are We, the People, being accountable to the system? 

Very often, we get swayed by what the media dishes out. They too are doing a job, no doubt: yes, it is necessary to raise our voice against iniquities, injustice and indifference, as much as against corruption and criminality. But we must, at the same time, accept that with all its imperfections, democracy has served India well in the last six decades. Maybe, the safety valves that democracy has put in place have helped us in holding the nation together in spite of all the aberrations and incongruities that the system is enmeshed in. Perhaps, that is something which many of us tend to overlook, or maybe even ignore. If a system is not working well, we shouldn’t be demanding that it should be dismantled in its entirety; rather, we should work towards addressing those imperfections and aberrations to make the system work better. Or else, it could turn out to be a classic case of burning down the house to kill the mouse!

All systems of governance suffer from some or the other imperfections and aberrations, and democracy is no exception. We Indians would know it better than anyone else. But, democracy has survived through hundreds of years in the gram sabhas and samitis in India. That is because the citizens have a stake in its functioning, a very important role to play in running the system, more so because there is no tenure for anyone, and there is an accountability mechanism inherent in it. It took hundreds of years and prolonged battles and many killings before democracy established itself in its motherland, Britain. Our democratic polity, in the modern sense, is just 60 years old: spare a thought for the many diversities and the million mutinies that Indian democracy has faced, both external and internal, in the last six decades. Also, just for a second, ask what happened to all those other countries that gained Independence along with us - or after us: where are they today?

If there are drawbacks and demerits in the polity, we should find solutions for them rather than holding the entire political class responsible; after all, are not, we, the people, who provide legitimacy to them through every election? Are we not then equally culpable? So, if there is something rotten in India today, we are equally at fault. But a solution to that wouldn’t be to burn down the house to kill the mouse. Rather, we should strive to set the house in order by collective and consensual action – and not by confrontation - by involving all stakeholders.

The grassroots could be the first place to begin that journey, with concerted involvement of every segment of society – and especially the political leadership.

Capital Musings

It’s a beautiful day…

After weeks of an extended monsoon, the sun has come out from behind the clouds. At 28 degree Celsius, it is a warm day which, by evening, should turn cool and breezy.

I look out the window, and see the lush green carpet, thanks to the plentiful rains. The plants, shrubs and trees look fresh, clean and invigorated. The flower beds are a riot of colours; the birds are joyfully chirping and making merry. I feel nice – and peaceful.

The Games begin on Sunday. But before that, later today, we will know of the Ayodhya decision: and I feel wary.

After sixty years of protracted litigation and many, many adjournments, the court is going to decide on the title suit. I am left wondering whether matters of faith can be decided by courts of law. Are we not asking too much of judges, who are as much human as every one of us? It is comforting that all political parties and various religious organizations have appealed to the people to respect the court’s decision and to maintain peace and amity. I am also encouraged by the Union Home Minister’s assertion that India has moved forward since that fateful day in 1992 when the Babri Masjid was brought down.

Come Sunday, and the Commonwealth games will be declared open. For now, Delhi is the most happening city. The Kalmadis and the Bhanots notwithstanding, the Games will go through successfully, I want to believe…

Of course, we have to contend with caustic comments and snide remarks by assorted leaders from around the Commonwealth, not to forget athletes from the so-called developed and even some developing countries. Think of it, till last week, many Indians didn’t even know where these countries were located! But our friends Kalmadi and Bhanot ensured that we brushed up on our geography! But they couldn’t brush aside the shame that was brought on the nation.

So, the Australian Prime Minister and several others have gone ballistic. M/s Hooper and Fennel are having a field day, what with the Indian newshounds willing to get any byte from them! The BBC too is not lagging behind, bringing to your drawing room close-ups of filthy toilets, leaking ceilings, dirty drains and hissing cobras! A few days ago, at Canberra, the Prime Minister warned of imminent terrorist strikes in Delhi. Yesterday, she injected a new element: the Ayodhya verdict and its likely aftermath. But she conveniently forgot to issue an advisory against travelling to the UK, France and several European countries where they have just declared heightened security in the wake of reliable information on possible terrorist strikes. Thankfully, Madame Prime Minister has assured a billion Indians that her statements are not intended to hurt their sentiments. Ricky Ponting and Michael Clerk must be wondering what the heck is going on behind their backs while they cool their heels in Mohali!

It’s a beautiful day, and suddenly I am at unease. When people are willing to embrace death in the name of faith, and when they are more than willing to kill fellow beings, again taking umbrage under religion, how much can the state do to ensure the safety and security of the citizens? It goes without saying that the miscreants and anti-national elements would crave to strike terror at this juncture, when the whole world is watching India trying to put up a decent show of the biggest sporting event it has held, yet…

I wish and hope sanity (not to forget sanitation) prevails in the days ahead…

Octopus Paul: Of Animals and Astrologers

Who should come first, animals or astrologers, was my dilemma as I started writing this. Predictions apart, I settled for animals first, not merely for Darwinian reasons but also for the fact that between animals and astrologers, the former are less predatory than the latter, and more predictable as well!

I am more convinced of this today than ever before, especially after reading about Paul, the Octopus, who has been making waves across the world by his stunning predictions!

Now, what else would Paul, the Invertebrate, predict than the outcomes of football matches in this season of soccer fever?

Once every four years, the world goes crazy: only football can do this to millions across the continents and the oceans. They lose sleep, weight, jobs, spouses, and what not, during the month-long frenzy. They also bet, beat and fight for their heroes and their flags. It is not limited to the denizens of the 32 playing nations: if you have any doubt, check out the villages of Bengal and Kerala, where everyone, for a month, is either an Argentine or a Brazilian; sorry, no German or Spanish, British or French!

Well, Paul, the Octopus, will not be very happy with the Bengalis and Mallus. The reason is simple: he is a German, hard boiled one at that. There is a catch, though: he was originally British, but surrendered his passport when he shifted base to Oberhausen; no dual citizenship for him.

But what has Paul, an Octopus to boot, to do with Jabulani and Vuvuzela?

The fact of the matter is, he is more of a `predictor’ than a predator these days. Confined to an aquarium, he revels in revealing what even thoroughbred astrologers cannot do, and with what panache! And his revelations lead to revelry all around, more often than not.

The story goes like this: Paul is a football fan, and undoubtedly a German fan. When Der Kaiser Beckenbauer’s boys play – at night or day - Paul too gets into the mood. He knows how crazy Germans are when it comes to soccer. And he loves to tell the fans what is going to be the outcome of the next match!

In no time, Paul has emerged an undisputed and unrivalled expert in the guessing game: he is spot on about the end result!

Now, like all good astrologers, Paul too needs some incentives: no, no, he is not amenable to bribes (unlike country cousins in India who can be bribed to predict what you want to hear) and he can throw all his eight legs or arms all around you if you try to question his astrological integrity. So, beware!

Paul’s technique is quite unique, I must tell you. If you want to know the result of the next match Germany is going to play, you have to feed him first. And how? Lower two boxes of delicacies into his den: one should be draped in a German flag, and the other in the flag of the country playing against Germany. Paul will ponder, and pronto, he will pounce on the box with the flag of the upcoming winner! Ain’t he cute, though an Octopus!

In spite of being only two years old, Paul’s fame has spread far and wide; rather, he is a celebrity cephalopod! His predictions, according to highly informed sources, have been found to be correct in over 70% cases! Even good ole Nostradamus would have to doff his hat to this little prophet, I say! Reportedly, Paul was very active during the 2008 European Championship when he was still wetting his nappies; but he brought advance joy to the Germans by correctly predicting most of their wins.

No wonder then that the world cup has witnessed great demand for this wonder of an Octopus. And he has been bang on, so far, when we go to the press. He broke many German hearts by picking up lowly Serbia in the qualifying round: every Doubting Thomas had to beat a hasty retreat when the mighty Germans lost to the underdogs that day, proving beyond any doubt whatsoever Paul’s credibility!

Last week, everyone kept his or her fingers and even arms and legs crossed as the eight-armed/legged Paul looked up to see the snack boxes with the German and English flags being lowered into his jar. BBC quotes Aquarium spokesman Tanja Munzig as saying Paul picked up the German box without bending even one leg/arm to wild cheer all around; he was so sure of the English loss that he even put the lid on the jar after sitting inside, savoring his delicacies. BBC, of course, was peeved at this sacrilege by one born British; not the Germans, who were predictably proud.
And Der Kaiser’s boys the Germans didn’t let Paul down; they lived up to his predictions, drubbing England 4-1!

Now Paul is having a tough time, with eager German fans wanting to know more: but other teams are wary of the wily mollusk, not knowing which flag he is going to pick up. Paul’s predictions are becoming predilections for rival teams now! But trust Paul on all his three hearts; he is very objective, and not a jingoist by any stretch of any of his eight legs or arms, whatever you want to call them. `Predictor’ Paul plays fair, to say the least.

Lagtaa hai, tote ki naukri khatarein mein hai…

Pity parrots! Whatever is going to happen to them if Paul plays guessing games like this!

Nonetheless, it seems there is going to be a resurgence in animals as astrologers in India: after all, astrologers have been part and parcel of our lives much before Paul hit the target – or for that matter before Prannoy Roy and Vinod Dua started telling us of elections outcomes which were, as a matter of routine, wrong! But with Paul hitting the bull’s eye 70%, and our penchant to know the future, there is reportedly a heavy demand for different animal species.

Last heard, Dr. Manmohan Singh has procured Omkar, the owl, to foresee the success or failure of his economic reforms. The problem is, every time the question is asked, the wise one simply closes its eyes!

Tintu, the turtle, has taken residence at 10 Janpath as the in-house astrologer. Whenever it is asked when the crown prince will get married, Tintu quickly withdraws into his shell!

The BJP office in Delhi has Mintoo, the monkey, as the resident astrologer – rather, there are quite a few of them, I mean the monkeys, disturbing the leaders. Rumor has it that each monkey has been bribed to support a specific leader, depending on whomever claims to be the prime ministerial aspirant.

In Patna, Laloo Yadav refuses to change: he has an abiding loyalty to, and faith in, the cow to which he gave so much fodder that he even lost his gaddi (and also that of his wife’s). The grape wines have it that Chameli, the cow, doesn’t reciprocate that trust and optimism of Lalooji: whenever the question of Chief Ministership is raised, Chameli shakes her head, much to the delight of Nitish Kumar.

Then there are tigers in Mumbai, snakes in Chennai and vultures in Kolkata. The Marxist Party has made it clear that it doesn’t believe in astrology, but to placate the football fans in Bengal and Kerala, they will go for one: a red hornbill!

Chameleons are having a field day: they are sighted in party offices in several cities which are native to some of them.

But the cake goes to Kumari Mayawati who already has an elephant as her astrologer. Every time the pachyderm is given two different bunches of bananas with names for the next Prime Minister attached to them, it inevitably picks up the bunch with the name of the BSP supremo. Alec smart, though, says, that both bunches have Mayawati’s name stuck to them!

I never knew the football season could also be such a silly season!

Son says he is dropping Mathematics which, he claims, is like Jabulani: every time he thinks it is in his grasp, it bounces out of his hands and goes for a self goal. So enough of this Jabulani! But his mom has a serious complaint: he is threatening a Vuvuzela attack whenever he is asked to study!

Show him the red card, I say!

Random Thoughts on a Saturday Afternoon

Thankamma’s Tears

I have known Thankamma for years, right from the day I was born. She lived in our family compound with her husband and five kids. She would help in our house doing different jobs at different hours of the day. Come evening, her husband who didn’t have any job would go out for the mandatory local brew. Late at night, we would hear shouting, and then the wailing of the children. Next morning, Thankamma would be back attending to her work as if nothing ever happened the previous night.

Thankamma was small built, emaciated, and with scanty hair which she tied up in a funny way. She had varicose veins which stood out prominently. More importantly, for us, kids, we felt that she always bore a sad expression, even when she appeared to have enough reason to make her happy – at least once in a while.

Years rolled by. Thankamma and her family moved out from our compound, girls got married, boy found a job and, thankfully, with age, husband sort of sobered up. Once in a while, she would turn up at our house and tell Amma about how things were with her. We all felt happy for her now that they were doing fine, but Thankamma, as always, had a sad look.

Every time I went on vacation, Thankamma would come over. The passing of years didn’t make much difference to her, I realized.  For one, she looked just the same as I remembered her when I was a kid. The varicose veins were as protruding as they ever were, and the scanty hair still remained tied up in an untidy knot. And she still had that `about-to-cry look’. She would stand behind the kitchen door as I would enquire how life was treating her…

“So, how’s your husband?”, I would ask. Thankamma would dab her eyes with the corner of her dress and reply: “What can I say, kunje? He is ok, and stays at home most of the time.” So, why was she crying then? May be, she was reminded of all those years when he used to beat her every night after his drinking sessions. Or was it out of the relief that he didn’t beat her any more?

“How are your daughters?” “All four of them settled well, kunje. Their husbands are doing some work or other, and two of them have already constructed their own houses”. She would then wipe her eyes. May be, she was reliving those days when she had nothing to feed them nor had enough money to get them some decent clothes. Or was it out of the little joys that came her way now on seeing them placed fairly comfortably?

“What is the boy doing now?” Thankamma’s eyes would then overflow. “He got a job in the company which is very good, but he wastes a lot of money. I will ask him to come and meet you kunje; please advise him to be prudent.” May be, the tears were for her only son on whom she dotted and couldn’t provide enough in his school days. Or, was it out of the fact that in spite of that, he was now having a proper government job and doing well in life?

“And how are your grandchildren? Which school are they going to?” Tears would drop down again. “Thank God for that, kunje. All of them are good students. One of them is doing engineering. The others too are also very studious.” May be, the tears were for those days when sending her own kids to the school was a daunting task. Or was she crying at the achievements of her grandkids who had brought her some sense of achievement?

Our talk would go on like this for some more time, with her tears punctuating her sense of loss and of accomplishment, however insignificant they were. I would then give her some money which she would dutifully tuck away in some obscure corner of her dress.

The last time I met her was in October of 2008 when the same routine was played out yet again. She died early last year; so when I was at home for the vacation, it was one of the daughters who came to meet me.

When I look back on Thankamma, I smile, thinking of her standing behind the kitchen door talking to me, tears streaming down from her weather beaten face. Her tears, in joy and sorrow both, told many tales to me of how tough it was for someone like her who had a struggle on hand every day of her life…

On Greasing Palms

The other day, a plumber from the Central Public Works Department came to attend to some work in my house. Since the CPWD has outsourced works, the guy came in a uniform – and I was impressed, till he got down to the work at hand which involved cleaning up the drain in the kitchen. I was taken aback to see the uniformed guy using his bare hands to clear out the mess. When the work was over, I asked him why he was not using a glove when he had such a cumbersome and unhygienic job to do; he said ruefully that if he were to ask the contractor for a glove, he would be dismissed straightaway – unless he was willing to grease his palms. The boy added thoughtfully, he would rather have a dirty hand than part with his measly earnings to grease the contractor’s palms.

I guess this goes too for guys working in road side workshops, repair joints and the like. The worst I have seen is workers using their palms to paint railings on road dividers. I am left wondering when the state will intervene to set matters right. Or will that also demand greasing of many palms?

On Writers and their Works

In the Preface to his collection of short stories, Paulo Coelho writes about what he understood of a writer in the early 1960s. A writer always wears glasses, never combs his hair, and is angry about everything or depressed. He has an obligation never to be understood by his own generation. A real writer will never use the average vocabulary of 3000 words because there are another 189,000 in the dictionary. Only other writers can understand what a writer is trying to say. He would tell us `alarming names’ like semiotics, epistemology and neoconcretism or say things like `Einstein is a fool’ or `Tolstoy was the clown of the bourgeoisie’. Another interesting thing is, when trying to seduce a woman, a writer would say `I am a writer’ and scribble a poem on a napkin (It always works, according to Coelho). Apart from this, a writer can always get work as a literary critic and if he was asked what he was reading at the moment, he would mention a book which no one had ever heard of. Finally, if he was asked about Ulysses by James Joyce, the most revered of works, he would find it difficult to say what the book is all about. Trust good ole Paulo to come out with this – that too when he was just 15 years old!

Recently, I happened to read Padmanabh Vijay Pillai’s book, Where Nothing Happens. It came highly recommended by leading writers and was in the reading list of several prominent people. I collected a copy which had a beautiful black and white cover. Pillai had the right pedigree: Doon School, St. Stephen’s, Indian Foreign Service, M.Phil. from the US and a Ph.D. in Library Science. He quit the IFS and worked for a research foundation in Delhi. The author died in his mid-sixties and the book, published posthumously, is in the form of a series of letters to his mother.

I would say it is a powerful work, all 186 pages of it, which deals with certain dimensions of Pillai’s life, his thinking, his philosophy, and the philosophy of science. The problem was that of comprehending the vocabulary, the nuances of language, references to many intellectual and philosophical traditions and scientific approaches, both oriental and occidental, and contextualizing events and individuals from a global perspective. I claim to be a fast reader but Pillai’s book made me slower than a snail at a steady pace. Every third word called for Chamber’s Dictionary and every second sentence demanded the Wikipedia. It was torturous – yet humbling – to know that my vocabulary was limited, very, very limited, and that my understanding of the world around me was minimal, very, very, minimal.

Thank you, Padmanabh Vijay Pillai. May his soul rest in peace.

I strongly recommend Where Nothing Happens, to all friends, if only to know where we stand in terms of our knowledge base and also to learn how the language can evolve in the hands of a brilliant wordsmith and an original thinker. I am sure Paulo Coelho will not disagree.

With or Without Comments

• I ask son: “Tell me, what do you know of a la carte?” The answer comes fast and furious: “It is a place in Kerala – unless you have something else in mind, in which case please learn how to pronounce it!”
  
• Pakistan’s Interior Minister Rehman Malik asks P. Chidambaram to join him on Twitter (probably he hasn’t heard of whatever happened to Shashi Tharoor)
  
• Hill station Kullu records 38.6 C (Is it a Pachauri figure?)
  
• Eating bacteria can boost brain power (Pray, tell me, which organ stands to benefit by eating fungi?)
  
• Brush teeth twice to avoid heart disease (What else can be avoided if I brush a few more times?)
  
• Ahead of Football World Cup, Argentina’s team doctor says players can have sex with regular partners, but without champagne (Is champagne only to be taken with irregular partners?)
  
• Violent video games are a learning tool! (Let us introduce them from Nursery!)
  
• A Scotland hotel’s CCTV has caught a `ghost’ on camera, gliding across the car park and vanishing through a closed door! 
  
• An American woman has sued the United Airlines for leaving her asleep for about four hours after the landing at Philadelphia.
  
• A US lady has been crowned as the most tattooed woman in the world: she has 95 per cent of her body covered with tattoos (No Comments on the remaining 5 per cent!).

Capital Thoughts

Miguelita Dupin came to us two years ago for a training program. By the end of her one-month-long stay in India, she had developed a close bond with our country and what she described as our ancient heritage. She often wrote to me asking for reading material on Hinduism and India’s cultural traditions. At times, I thought she was impatient with my delayed response.

Two weeks ago, when Haiti was ravaged by the devastating earthquake, I sent Miguelita a mail wishing her and her countrymen well. She hasn’t replied yet, and I am worried for her safety. Last week, I repeated my mail and sent another one to her parent office in Port-au-Prince. I wish and trust that my friend is safe and secure, and that it is only a damaged internet connection which is preventing her from writing back to me.

Pray for Miguelita, please…

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One of my favorite authors – I am sure he is a favorite of many of us – passed away last week. With just one book, Erich Segal moved the world to tears. We cried with Oliver when Jennie took eternal leave of him. Segal brought back Oliver to life with his own story, and we felt happy for him once again. Man, Woman and Child was another best seller from the Segal stable. Our very own Masoom and assorted other versions across the world testified to its popularity. But I still believe that the original Segal ending was what made the book unputdownable.

By the way, there is a rumor doing the rounds that two Juniors, one a President and the other who never made it thanks to the former, George Bush and Al Gore, were Segal’s students. That the author-cum-teacher didn’t have much of an opinion on either is also widely reported! That shouldn’t be news, in any case! There is another story from the grape wines that Love Story was based on the real life romance of Gore Jr. I am not giving much credence to that considering the course of the story and Al’s life and times. If the rumor emanated from Gore’s own mouth, it should be taken with a pinch of salt, of course. He once claimed that the Internet was his invention, and when challenged, the Nobel laureate backed out!

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Speaking of Nobel laureates, our own RK Pachauri who heads the IPCC that shared the Nobel with Gore is in deep waters (pun intended). His many dooms day claims are being questioned in different parts of the world. The long-haired, long-bearded Pachauri is being hounded by the equally long-haired but beard-less Jairam Ramesh in his own backyard! But Pachauri is firm – he will not resign, even if the Himalayan glaciers do not melt or the Amazon rain forests refuses to dry up as he had predicted earlier. A few typographical mistakes cannot remove the chair from under him, even if his projections of catastrophe have been found to be far from the truth! After all, Nobel Prizes don’t come easy, you see!

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Mile sur mera, tumhara! A generation of Indians grew up enjoying this wonderful national integration ad by the Lok Seva Sanchar Parishad on good old Doordarshan. Everyone who saw it and heard it loved it every time it was shown on DD. So, on 25^th January when the Times of India announced that a new avatar of that is to be aired the next day on Zoom TV, I was all excited which met with a funny smile from son dear! So I took time off to explain to him the minutiae. On Republic Day, I was keener to watch the phir mile sur mera, tumhara, than the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces unfurling the tricolor! Now I know never to have great expectations! The `new and improved version’ is a big let down, if you know what I mean! A slick 6 minute ad has been stretched to almost double that time in typical Bollywood style – there is even a bathing scene in the new one!

Gone is Pandit Bhimsen Joshi and Balamuralikrishna, Mrinal Sen and Sunil Gangopadhyay; even Lata Mangeshkar is missing! Daughter Deepika is not even a patch on the grace of dad Prakash! Bachchan Sr failed to revive the wonderful memories of the original! Piyush Pandey, Aarti and Kailash Surendranath had worked magic with the old version. Aarti and Kailash, I understand, are still there, but the magic has gone missing; the soul of the original is missing!

That reminds me of another equally soulful ad by the Lok Seva Sanchar Parishad which again was aired around the same time on Doordarshan: The Torch of Freedom, I think was the title. Starting with Kris Srikkanth through PT Usha, Shiney Abraham, Kapil Dev, Sunny Gavaskar, Michael Ferreira and Tiger Pataudi, to Prakash Padukone, Milkha Singh, et al, – not to forget Nirupama Mankad (who will!) – the torch passed through the beautiful Indian landscape stirring up a wide array of emotions. I hope they don’t make an update of that one!

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Talk of new and improved versions, and how can I forget Rediff iLand! My laments and complaints did evoke a response: the system administrator advised me that they won’t give up on me, and I should promptly go to the help line! It appears Rediff believes uncompromisingly on the verity of the adage, `God helps them who help themselves’! Thankfully, good Samaritans like good ole VT are keeping us in the flock! Thanks to my `honest pardner’, I am still here like several others who have benefited from his proactive support! May his tribe increase and the outbacks keep him safe and sound, in spite of the Victorians! So, the self-help groups that Rediff wants are finding their feet, and the credit goes to guys like VT! Three Cheers to them! More power to the SHGs!

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The Capital has been fogged out, without doubt. I could barely see Madam President alighting from the six-door Benz at the Raj Path! The DD cameras strained hard, without much success. The air craft formations came and went without anyone getting to see them: only their sound and fury were audible. RK Pachauri will assert that this is further evidence, if at all any were needed, of the impending climate change and what can happen if the glaciers and rain forests disappear! But thankfully, the skies are clearing up of late…

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The digging is going on at a furious pace in the Capital! After all, the Commonwealth Games are only a few months away. So what if the London stadia for the 2012 Olympic Games have already been declared open? We Indians do it our own way, and we don’t need any lessons from any Chinese or French or Greek! As long as Kalmadi-ji is there, nothing can happen, whatever Fennel-ji might say! The IOA Czar has declared that we shall overcome, and we have to go by his words; so, come October, stadia or no stadia, the Games will be held in Delhi. Watch this space for more!

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Another Czar too is making news. It is as if the IPL Czar is giving competition to the IOA Czar! Yesterday, Lalit-ji decided to hold the IPL in South Africa. Today, he decreed that no Pakistani cricketer can play in the IPL. Tomorrow, he will declare himself to be the life president of the BCCI. Who can question Lalit-ji or Kalmadi-ji! But son tells me this is not cricket! What is the gentleman’s game if Afridi is not there (no pun intended). Home Minister Chidambaram too says he wants to see Afridi and Gilchrist play in Mumbai. But a resident Czar in that town has a different take on that!

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Sports Minister MS Gill has announced that no foreigner will be permitted to go anywhere near the Yamuna banks! I wondered if it had anything to do with Hindu religious sentiments. But Minister Mister Gill has other ideas: he says Krishna’s river is so damn filthy that he doesn’t want any foreigner to see it or smell it! Does it mean that only digging will continue and the filth will remain? Or is this a nice new solution the government has found for our problems: don’t let others see them!

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Son: Accha, tell me, are Mumbai cars fully automated?

Me: I guess Thackeray-ji is very tech savvy.

Son: I meant Mumbai cars and not Mumbaikars, Accha!

Me: But why this technology driven question son?

Son: Why are the Mumbaikars saying the cabbies should know Marathi? Are the cars there fully automated? Is it that the Mumbai cars are given oral instructions in the local lingo or what?

Me: Only CM Chavan-ji or the Thackeray-jis can tell us son!

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Son: Accha, even motor cycles are sexist, I say!

Me: What makes you think so, son?

Son: I saw this bike today which says “definitely male”!

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Son: Accha, I am happy freedom came early!

Me: Why so son?

Son: Or else, I would have had to study a lot more about what all Gandhiji did to send the British away!

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Son: Accha, Happy Wedding Anniversary!

Me (with a sigh): We all make mistakes in life!

Son: Yes, I guess so. Last night, Amma was saying she will rue this one mistake all her life!

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The State of the Nation: Some Irreverent Thoughts

The nation waits with bated breath,
So too Uncle Sam, NSG and the IAEA
As the world’s largest functioning anarchy
Turns its wheels of democracy.

Long Live Democracy!
Long Live The Republic!

Post-Script: This is neither poem nor prose, as you will all readily agree! Also, it does not have any rhyme or reason. These are only random, irreverent thoughts. All characters in this Great Indian Drama ' or is it The Theatre of the Absurd ' are fictional. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is only a figment of imagination of the respective reader, and I cannot be hauled up to any court of law in India or abroad for the same.

Clarification:

The Insider: A novel by the former Prime Minister PV Narasimha Rao.

Honest Abe: The good old Abraham Lincoln who made us all believe that democracy is of the people, by the people and for the people.

The Great Helmsman: Mao Zedong of our unfriendly neighbourhood fame.

Inspiration: Frozen Sun and his Poem!

Budget Stories

Finance Minister Palaniappan Chidambaram will present his much touted `dream budget' tomorrow, inviting boquets and brickbats from friends, foes and family members alike. Having followed the reactions to the budget for some years past, I can claim some insight into our leaders' minds when it comes to the nation's purse, which, after all, is the most coveted thing in their life. Interestingly, these `budgetary reactions', if I can call them that, follow a set pattern: if you have access to the press clippings on the first budget of independent India, you can rest assured you have read them all, through the succeeding fifty years and more.

Let me now attempt the reactions that are likely to follow tomorrow's budget:

Prime Minister Manmohan Singh: This budget is something which Soniaji has always dreamed of for the aam aadmi. My wife Gursharan Kaur has also got dreams of the dream budget all the time, especially after the prices of onion started sky-rocketing because of the opposition's negative approach towards us. But the World Bank asked us not to worry, but be happy, and just dream even during daytime. Soniaji's inner voice is always right ' I am very sure of that or else I would not have become the Prime Minister in the first place. Let her inner voice continue to guide her! By the way, please find out from my Gursharan and let me know what she thinks of her dreams after the budget (that is all that I could make out through the Prime Minister's humble mumblings).

Sonia Gandhi: My inner voice tells me that Rajiv Gandhi's dream will be fulfilled by Rahul Gandhi. Onion prices can be brought down only when that Amar Singh stops hoarding them in UP. But for the aam aadmi to benefit from this budget, first we should impose President's Rule there. This budget will help check tax evasion. I have asked Shivraj Patil and Chidambaram to put all tax evaders behind bars, especially that Amitabh Bachchan.

Nalini Chidambaram: My husband is only dreaming of onion these days ' I always find tears streaming down his eyes: but I am sure they are not for the aam aadmi in any case. By the way, why are you asking me my reactions to the budget this year? You didn't get that Gursharan to do the talking as she does every year, as if she knows more about the budget than the Finance Minister's only wife? I am busy right now, you know, a client of mine has his anticipatory bail for tax evasion coming up ' I have to go.

Gursharan Kaur (with tears rolling down her eyes in torrents): My dream of onion prices coming down can come true only if my inner voice tells me that Manmohanji will remain Prime Minister for some more years. Or else, the aam aadmi will suffer, which I can't bear. Kindly tell that Nalini to ask Palaniappan to do something. By the way, please find out from PMji and let me know what he thinks of the budget ' these onions, I say!

Atal Bihari Vajpayee: ..hmmmmmmm ..I think .the NDA budget .hmmmmmmmmm .was better for the .aam aadmi .and the onions

Congress Party spokesman: From Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru, through Indiraji and Rajivji, and now Soniaji, Priyankaji and Rahulji, we have been trying to remove poverty, to provide water, to give food, shelter and clothing, not to forget onions. We will continue to fight under the guidance of Soniaji and Rahulji poverty and all the evils which got aggravated in these years of our rule! But aam aadmi will not get any benefits as long as Mulayam Singh Yadav remains the Chief Minister of UP. Our slogan for the coming elections will be Mulayam hatao, Garibi hatao!

Sushma Swaraj: In ancient India, aam aadmi did not have any problems with onions and other non-essentials of Hindu life. The Bharatiya Naari was also treated with samman unlike now. After these videshi log came, and some of them are still hanging around here, we are having many problems. In our ancient civilization, everything was possible because Goddess Lakshmi was in charge of Finance. So, if we have to improve our nation's finances, we need more Bharatiya Naaris like me holding high offices. If that videshi aurat is controlling our finances, I will have to shave my head which I didn't do last time around.

Left parties' spokesman: Even though we are supporting the UPA government from outside, we cannot support this kind of budget because the aam aadmi is going to face lot of problems. All these are being done on the dictates of the IMF and the World Bank. The increase in excise duty will benefit the rich and big businessmen which will, in turn, benefit only that Mamata Banerjee. If we are increasing taxes and duties in our West Bengal, that will help the poor and the downtrodden. But we will not do that in Kerala, Tripura and JNU where also we are in power. And we will not let the UPA government do anything of the sort in this country. Every tax and excise duty escalation should be rolled back, or else we will call a Bharat bachao bandh except in our Kolkata.   

Mayawati: This budget-wudget are all a big tamasha of the Manuwadi parties which are only interested in exploiting the bahujan samaj. We will oppose tooth and nail, even hair, such policies of the upper castes who have suppressed us for centuries. We will also oppose that Mulayam Singh who is the modern day Manu.

Amar Singh: My eldest brother Mulayam Singhji is the only true saviour of the backward classes and the Muslims and not that bal katti aurat who sheds crocodile tears for them. This budget is anti-Mulayam, anti-Bachchan and anti-UP. My other brother Amitabh Bachchan is an honest tax payer but the Enforcement Directorate keeps sending those detectives to his house when Jaya didi is alone at home. But that will not prevent my young nephew Abhishek from getting married to Aishwarya Rai. But don't ask that stupid Mani Shankar Aiyer for his reactions: he abused me at Sonia's dinner three years back.

Mani Shankar Aiyer: If you have asked that dumb Amar Singh for his reactions before asking me, then I refuse to react ' he tried to punch me at a wedding reception three years back.

Businessmen: While we are happy with the concessions given to us by the Finance Minister, we would have been happier if more concessions were extended to us. Not only that, we would like to demand that the concessions given to the middle class and the lower middle class should be rolled back; no concessions whatsoever should be given to those below the poverty line: after all, we have to draw a line somewhere!

IMF/World Bank spokesman: We are in total agreement with the business community in India. The line should be very firmly drawn so that we will know who is with us and who is not because, like in the Cold War days, we still believe that those who are not with us are against us.

Government servants: We are not happy because no additional DA has been given to us this time. Not only that, we have also not been given any additional tax relief. It is OK, we may work less, but then we need money to buy onions, moomphli and Manohar Kahaniyan. The government should also consider making every Friday a holiday so that we can spend more time with our spouses and children. The working hours should also be reduced from eight hours to six hours.

Finance Ministry officials: This budget is growth oriented and will benefit all sections of society, especially the poor and the vulnerable. Our growth trajectory is appreciated by the World Bank and the IMF and we are certain that we will achieve 9.3 % growth rate this fiscal. The inflationary tendencies will be checked by the inflow of foreign capital coupled with greater flow of FDI from FII. The deceleration of the economy will be checked as a result of which GDP will go up substantially. As a result of such micro and macro-economic measures taken by a proactive government, there will be a paradigm shift in our fiscal policies, generating growth with equity which will benefit the BPL families. Augmentation of our banking base, approved by the RBI, supported by SEBI, and rated by CRISIL, will also rejuvenate the economy, stemming price rise and resultant increase in WPI. This budget will also promote export promotion and better fiscal and monetary practices leading to good governance in all its manifestations as prescribed by the World Bank (even the hard core presswallas fainted at the end of the briefing, unable to withstand the steady flow of clich�s, jargons and hyperboles).

Late Nani Palkiwala: (if he were alive, he would have addressed the people of Mumbai at the packed Brabourne Stadium, as he did for many years): Only the infinite wisdom of the Almighty can save We, the People, and this country, from our economists, statisticians and politicians!

Aam Aadmi: Yeh sab kya ho raha hai! What is all this fuss about? Onions or no onions, we are always in tears! No budget, even if it is a dream one, is going to help us realize our small, small dreams and hopes of a square meal a day. Forget it all, these budgetary reactions, and the like, and let us be .

The Linguistics of Thinking!

I write this recalling a conversation that I have had with a long-standing friend of mine. We used to have serious, if not verbally violent, discussions about many matters during our University days. We went different ways, he now teaches at a University Department in the South, and I stayed back in The Capital. We meet occasionally, reminisce about our hostel days and indulge in our favourite pastime, arguing about issues that agitate our minds. During one such sitting, we got talking about language and our thought process. As we were talking about some topical issue that had wider international ramifications, suddenly he asked me: "Do you think in Malayalam or English?" I think the provocation came from the fact that I was talking mostly in English. I was sort of caught unawares by this sudden query, and, for a while, I had difficulty in answering this question.

Having been born and brought up in Kerala, my knowledge of my mother tongue is quite fine, more so because I studied till my Graduation there, and also because I was an avid reader of Malayalam literature. Once in Delhi, some years ago, the use of Malayalam became quite infrequent, largely because of inaccessibility to the native literature here and also partly due to the few Malayali friends I had. The occasional watching of a Malayalam film, some irregular viewing of language programmes on the TV, or the rare reading of a vernacular newspaper didn't help much to keep in touch. More than anything else, once in a profession, which required extensive use of only the English language, slowly one started drifting away from one's mother tongue in its daily use. In between, the Malayalam script also went through some transformation, which, though, thankfully, didn't affect my understanding of the language! Writing in Malayalam was reduced to the one letter that I religiously wrote to my mother every month ' which I still doJ Nonetheless, I can take reasonable pride that my understanding of my mother tongue is pretty good!

Coming back to my friend's probing question, I was left wondering about the linguistics of our thought process. It is not the ordinary conversations that I am referring to, but the way we think of issues, events, etc. Do we think of issues in our mother tongue which first helped you to organize your thinking or do we think in the language that we use professionally on a day-to-day basis? I am not sure whether I have the right answer to this question: in a routine conversation like we have with family members or with friends or colleagues or neighbours, we often tend to think in our mother tongue. But when we are faced with larger issues where we are expected to assist in formulating policies, where we have to speak formally, where we have to debate on issues that have a wider context, where our understanding of issues is organized on the basis of literature we read in a different language, as for example, in English, then probably we think in that language. It is not that in such cases we can first think in our mother tongue and then translate it into English or any such language because our understanding of the issue at stake has been conditioned by material we have accessed in that language and not in our mother tongue. We may know well the dimensions of the theme in our native language as well, but we would perhaps find it difficult to articulate effectively in that language; we would be more comfortable using the language that has helped condition our knowledge of the subject.

I am not sure whether my friend comprehended the dialectics of this linguistic dimension of my understanding of the thinking process. What is your take on the matter?