The Rainbows of Facebook

There are more rainbows than rain this season, at least in Delhi. If not umbrellas, we have multi-hued filters to put up on our faces in our parallel digital lives. There’s enough reason. Congratulations America.

There are at least few who deem equal dignity as a given. While our land laws and leaders look astray, our courts interestingly walk backwards. However, netizens look bright and have taken to the cause. So what trended this week was an avalanche support for the LGBTQ. What also got tweeted (by the Prime Minister) and hence trended was #SelfieWithDaughter. Simple smiles that started in Harayana caught attention and how!

But that’s the thing with it. Trends fade away. And the social network ones even faster. My Facebook friend-list is retreating from a rainbow trip. The two picture frenzies of the week have little in common. These are campaigns in support of equality, campaigns to correct gross imbalance in our society. However, we might miss how these are rather imbalances in our social thinking. I wonder how much a profile picture change would help. Cynics have taken their lines too. Not discounting it being at least an iota of positive energy if nothing else, campaigns remain after all, just campaigns.

Since most of us communicating and interacting here have moderate to heavy internet lives, we see a sea change in the world around us. We see fathers from an acutely gender-skewed state Harayana putting up pretty pictures with their daughters. With terrific circulation over social networks the mainstream media picked them up. But we forget in a celebration that only a mere 19% of our population has access to the internet. The larger set of our society knows no selfie with their daughter nor paints their faces with rainbows. The root problem is deeper. The prejudice penetration is way more than the internet penetration.

Even with the lovely folks in all support for the much discriminated LGBT community, I wonder how many understand the cause they colour. I’ve come across few with their coloured pictures who say they’ve heard about it; though don’t know what BTQ stands in LGBTQ; but it was cool to update the picture. It won’t be difficult to find people who believe homosexuality is unnatural (forgetting whatever’s in nature is natural), to the extent of calling it a disorder, or a gross choice made by deviants in the society. In fact there are voices that say homosexuality is a trend, some sort of fashion that has come up recently in India (many adding, from the West). Wonder where our all accepting, all respecting, all celebrating Hindu myths have gone missing. From disowning to ostracising to brutal tortures or discrimination are few reactions, very frequently meted out to people identified as not straight, or normal as they’d say. The very idea of being repelled by a homosexual makes it an imbalance difficult to assume being corrected at large with Facebook being painted bright. The severe ripple effects are a far idea to be dealt with at this stage, even for the daughters of India.

Many educated well-read friends and family do not wholly understand what homosexuality is. And maybe they are not to be blamed for there is no education or an attempt to understand the complexities of genders and sexualities. Even if a proud rainbow filtered display picture person does understand, our social DNA usually prompts a reaction of shock, heartbreak, denial or discomfort if a close loved one steps out of the closet. It holds true for being in any of those several closets.

The PM endorsed #SelfieWithDaughter. A person well versed with the social media, I imagine must have access to volumes of information – scientific, historic and mythical to make an attempt to understand what alternate sexualities are. But perhaps that precisely is the restraint – the misplaced stigma to even make the attempt. Whatever happened to @narendramodi tweeting away #LoveWins.

Having said that, Facebook looked gorgeous with smiling fathers and pretty daughters and rainbows splashed all over it. They are a good talking point to start with and that’s precisely what we haven’t done yet – talking.     

PC for MC Mary Kom

In a single sentence – not so terrific yet so very important; and important in so many ways. That’s the latest Mary Kom starring Priyanka Chopra. Nothing goes past acute scrutiny and outright verdicts passed by a million judges on smart phones. And perhaps this is one.

Its problematic, the production and the casting. It’s well debated why not Lin Laishram (played the role of the boxer’s friend and auditioned along with many other Manipuri actors) but PC for the MC biopic. Why, PC, irrespective of her skills, or not, looks nowhere close to a legend who’s story is being told? It’s troublesome because the movie is peppered with the quintessential bollywood melodrama. While many from the region and beyond would really not want a masala film dished out on someone who’s made us proud. May be it is cultural imperialism, may be sheer formula to mint money on a pressing story.

Nonetheless, it is an essential film. To start with the business of films, it made news that Mary Kom could not be screened in her home state. Something that should have been taken notice of a decade ago, it has pushed the envelope, rather late though. Those oblivious would read up on why it won’t be released in Manipur, shall be exposed to what grips the state and its situations.

It is an important movie because nowhere in the past has the north eastern culture, language and presence (however namesake and stereotyped at worst) made for a full throttle bollywood flick consumed by millions of the ‘mainland’ Indians. We conveniently club it as North Eastern seven sisters.

An inspiring story for millions, even how not very impressively scripted, reflects on few important themes - the sordid state of sports and its politics in India, the dreams and the passion to realize them among the youngsters, the woman who breaks the moulds thrust upon her – for her to be an individual and not being bogged down to roles we otherwise justify prescribing to her – a daughter, a wife, homemaker and a mother. It’s a beautiful story of an ever so doting and supportive spouse – husband or wife. It makes it an important story to be told.     

It is sad to read that we need a big star for the movie to be sellable. But if a Priyanka Chopra (or others of her ilk in the industry) draw more people to experience a story then why not. It’s a debate of a movie being fine art versus being a medium for mass communication. Discounting that very few would actually be a piece of fine art communicating to the masses, for this story of a heroine, our pride, I’d rather opt for the latter – a story to be told to many.   

The boxing star’s struggles against hurdles of all forms, the distance at which the state and the region are need a voice. PC’s Mary Kom might not be the most convincing voice but it’s good for starters.

Four in every minute!

I remember a time, somewhere in 2002 or 2003, an ardent debater in middle school, I was picked up for the upcoming inter-school debate competition. My mother, who usually prepared me, helping me write the speech, rehearse it and think about it, asked my younger brother to leave the room. She wanted to discuss the motion with me and thought his age wasn’t appropriate to be party to it; the rise of rape! I must confess here that I knew much about the birds and bees before as she thought she was informing me.

However, I understood the sensitivity of the subject and the debate began. I’d often remember some powerful openings of my speeches for years. And this one I never forget.

Over 8000 women were burnt alive for dowry in a single year
Over 30% of women have their first sexual experience in a forced encounter
Every hour a woman is raped
Every minute a woman is harassed
Every minute four women are molested

I remember uttering these words at the dais, and I hear these words in disbelief every day; every day, for the figures make no sense today. Every day at least four rape cases are on national television. As for statistics, National Crime Record Bureau says two women are raped in India every hour. Double in a decade. What is appalling that now it’s out in the open, which otherwise I would appreciate, but an open that’s far scarier than truth.

14^th May 2013, Ghaziabad, a woman is slapped by male police officers for allegedly drinking and being in an obscene picture inside a car with a male companion, thrashed on camera, taken to the police station in the middle of the night.

As many would want to go by the book, it is a legal crime to drink in public, so she be fined. The book also prohibits the police to arrest a woman after sunset in the absence of a woman police officer. Follow the book? So follow it to the T. But the question goes far beyond. Even ignoring the fact of being taken in police custody in the absence of female police staff, beating a woman, or for that matter anyone, is justified? Lawful? Or moral at the least? She’s called obscene for her clothes. Oh yes! Back to basics and back to where I join the dots.

If there were statistics to prove that visible skin provokes/incites libido, I would sit hush. Women clad in modest salwaar kameez see the same fear as the one in a spaghetti top and skirt would see. A Pink trouser and a white top, was what she sported. The neighbourhood complained of nuisance and a lady in a salwaar kameez comes in abusing and slaps the girl in the police custody. Where is the book? Oh and in the entire episode the male companion is all left out with the legal charges slapped on him.

I guess mamma should have asked my brother to be in the room. Out in the open as I say, it’s essential that we realize it’s gone somewhere wrong how we’re bred. I use the word we as a collective. Sensitivity needs to be instilled, for we including me, my brother and my friends would at some point somewhere be guilty of ideas or words that would poke our female friends who (too as bred) take it without protest. It’s a long way and surely a difficult one, for the hefty aunty in the green salwaar kameez on that tape would still call a woman in pants a slut. For the head of the women’s force of the police department would still say, “children need to be taught. And the rod is okay if need be.”  For the police who need to protect would continue to harass.

I guess mamma should have let him stay, and I insist the teachers at my school take it up when we’re young. It has to be now out in the open for the book clearly does not work, lest in another ten years’ time a debate would start with more horrific figures.

Condemnation, no more the lyrics

It was a stormy monsoon that wasted all. And the winter heat now, is as marring, all adjourned. Day 4 of the Parliament’s winter session saw some peace. Oh yes, there’s always some deafening silence after a slap. And that is precisely what let the Lok Sabha debate. The first ever civilized discussion of the season – How can a politician be slapped?

The media in its breathless run ran the footage of Agriculture Minister and NCP chief Sharad Pawar being assaulted by a common man. His rage evident, his anger well let out, his reason – price rise. Well that could be just one of the many. The attacker was arrested immediately, and the attack was condemned. Politicians of all clans came out criticizing the act. Anna Hazare fumbled with his doublespeak and take 2 well suited as a reaction byte. Well the first reactions are usually spontaneous, “just one?” although his team followed the socially accepted stand – condemn the act of slapping, its violence. The new age opinion thrusting, cop-judge-jury, news anchors, who slip away from reportage went on accentuating, “such acts of violence…”
”The larger question, are we as a society too intolerant?”

The netizens though speak their mind without inhibitions and the audacious Sikh is being lauded as a Hero. Why not? He stood up for himself and the rest. The rest form a society rather too tolerant; to now have been immune to all the politicians’ whims and follies. It doesn’t stop at; neither begins with the endless scam skeletons tumbling out of the closet. It is not only about inflation going through the roof, and the plummeting GDP. It’s neither because of the bungled up land reforms nor an unhealthy business environment alone. Neither the tribal issues and the Naxalism, nor the incessant terror strikes is the reason. The rotting food grains alone don’t form grounds for the slap. The waste of the public distribution system, the loot of the taxes and the failing policies too isn’t the sole explanation. It’s because of trust deficit. It’s simply about a series of deceits, broken promises and mismanagement.

Why doesn’t the House debate and unanimously condemn the lathicharge on the farmers, on the peacefully sleeping crowds of Ramlila? No! We are to be tolerant.

A slap often shakes one off his slumber. It’s sorry that Pawar became the cheek of his entire ilk, for Pawar is an honourable man. But all honourable men rather shed their drowsy illusions lest whipping is begun. Booing Steel Minister Beni Prasad in his constituency, the aam admi, wide awake and much roused, has been pushed through his tolerances. Instead of humming Kolaveri di, the House needs to set its tune. Condemnation is not the lyrics this time round.

Hazardous Hazare

As it is said, in India everything gathers some melodrama the running anti corruption tamasha for some would call it indeed is an intriguing drama.

Hazardous Hazare, as the UPA must have been racking nerves, is surely a man of substance, not for his metabolic might to fast unto death but for egging on a country of people who generally after having spilt their curry remain complacent with a ‘koi baat nai.’ Oh! And after having a basket of eggs on its face the GoI could have been a little watchful with the case.

The sonorous sordid stories of corruption should be given no time for an explanation or description. Nor should any time be wasted in settling scores of the colourful politicians debating, ‘your corruption being larger than mine’, on as many news channels. Then leave aside the petulant remarks of the spokesperson digging out corruption cases against the Anti corruption team. As it is long decades have gone by without making any apparent movement on the Lokpal Bill. The debate over the draft might be a different issue all together. Whether the government’s version is an umbrella with a hole or Anna’s draft a heavy institution for our already humungous establishment needs a debate not a drama.

With the amicable yoga baba’s stint on fast, matters worsened. Trivialization of satyagrah and ann-shan and a sad comparison of equating the revolution with that of the freedom struggle. We probably forget the intense years of the mid 20^th century, or were seeing this just after the million march of Egypt. Further the events took an ugly turn - UPA bungling up with the situation with a lathi charge, and our baba - a man of honour in a garb of a woman?

However heavy or overwhelming the Jan Lokpal draft bill might be, for our system with such despair, it might be a shot for the better. If nothing else a nation in slumber has been woken up. It has started talking of being anti corrupt, change hopefully would take its time and it would practice restraint and start being anti corrupt soon. After a chapter of embarrassments for the Congress government this was the magic wand, our reticent Prime Minister spoke of whenever he spoke, sparingly though. Sadly again, it came down on Anna and his team that now comprised a visible chunk of the nation counting in many thousands and turning them up in its much-loved Tihar.
 

God bless this courageous frail old man. He indeed is a matter of substance. And for the melodrama of this tamasha, we have always had it. And this time it’s ‘I am Anna’!!  

Jan support but not Jasmine!

An interesting balance sets on the stats when one juxtaposes the figures 1.67 lakh crores and 1.21 billion! One, an estimate of an instance of loss and the other, well our strength. That’s what our worrisome population is known as when a Gandhi sits on a Satyagrah. Within hours of Anna starting his fast unto death, for bringing accountability in the governance, an unprecedented response mushroomed across the country. Saffron scarves and in skull caps, cotton sari clad and in candid denims, silver haired and the seventeen year old, all turned out from the multi strata complex society. Oh! Well that makes us 1.2 billion.

A historic revolution and naming it the second freedom struggle, the internet beings have added quite admirable fuel to the fire, fanned by the media. A rotten country, ranking 87^th on the corruption list could merely dream of flying. Only a fire in the house could have broken our slumber. The overwhelming response on the call of Hazare, roaring Anna nahi yeh aandhi hai,Desh ka doosra Gandhi hai, would bring down the lumbering government to finally pass the much coveted, 42 year grand old bill, a precaution then, but surely a cure now.

Street plays, speeches and slogans, all have been screaming of corruption and decay. Perhaps taking cue of the global trends, we’ve started smelling Jasmine in India. But, here lies a sad note. India, however mucky it may be, is a thriving and well so, democracy. Rechristening Jantar Mantar, Tahrir Square, would be disrespecting ourselves, our faith and that of Anna Hazare’s campaign. Let’s leave it to Egypt and the ilk to liberate from their non democratic regimes at Tahrir.

Although a section of the society suspects Anna’s version of the bill, and quite reasons it. Establishing an institution as super cop – super judge, might in some stray possibilities give birth to a monstrous head with no counter. Yet, it’s quite desirable to have such a Lokpal even if it questions every move of the government. Its time we get it done.

As crores gather in the width and span of the country in support of Anna, many are oblivious to the motive of their congregating, even if they do shout for the Jan Lokpal Bill, plenty don’t understand its intricacies. But what they do know is that they have assembled to question the political class of the callous corrupt governance they have been inflicted upon. And that is reason enough to join the ‘historic’ movement.

True liberation though, would only be achieved if this mass support translates into a mass will of acting against basic corruption, the aam aadmi corruption. It doesn’t lie with the government alone; it breeds in every child here. We can’t sing songs that are crooned in Arabia. Along with the check on politicos, we need to keep a tab on selves. A no to the next cop on the road for the ghoos, stands must for a Lokpal Law to be implemented well.

Evolution of a Story!

A polished face, immaculate fabric, adequately lit up studio and a clear pristine voice projects to us the Television news . More than often the viewer dismisses it over petty glitches. This video, initially made for the NDTVmi, documents how a news story is conceptualized, implemented and takes birth. 

The movie is an amateur attempt shot on the SONY PD170 and edited on Avid Media Composer. 

The concept, storyboarding, camera, editing, voice-overs all are credited to the complete team.

Yamini Joshi

Sapna Dhanwani

Nit Ranjan Srivasta

&

Rajan Luthra.

Well, the 9 minute video would explain it all, that what is it that the viewer doesn't know about the 24hrs news he watches, cribs, talks, discusses, argues, swears, and again flicks back to. NEWS isn't just a pretty face, even if it's about terror, a pretty lady or the rich tomatoes!   

catch up on Facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/?sk=messages&tid=1316962178576#!/video/video.php?v=427318303749&ref=mf

Attacking Authority!

Yellow journalism in its frenzied gait does stumble upon gold at times. Yes the media is inevitably a big support system when the system itself turns monstrous. Ruchika Girhotra, the most recent prey to the voyeuristic system got some ears to her wails 19 years after, hapless, she took away her life; for of course who’d tackle the big men in khaki and pristine white.

Once a Hindi flick very aptly showed this milkman cycling back to his quarter when two young men sporting Police badges, bullied him, tapping his milk can open and threatened if he turned off the tap, as they zoomed on their white Pulsars. Authority dude! Tears rolled down as a veritable milk-fall swished onto the pavement. And there, yelling on top of their voices, these vegetable vendors are aware that the hawaldars have an unsaid stake in their aamdani that’s per paao of the sabzi ! It’s realizable that they hawk up at improper places adding to the infra woes of congestion, but isn’t imposing a law or a rule, removing them from there, mentioned anywhere in the High books?

Here zips a case that’s much closer. We leisurely enjoyed the bike ride in the post rain gale, when my bike coughed and got choked and passed off right in the middle of the crossing. It sapped out its fuel and my seconds for green light to turn red paced. Botching, I dragged the heavy black soul-less body back behind the zebra lines. As the netherworld’s book says, the cops hauled me aside and the rest of it is the well known story. Was I their day’s fish, or they really shouldn’t be genuine and considerate while at work? They spoke of the NOC and PUC papers but my wise friend knew some laws and we won the debate. Innocents, I pity my citizens, who unaware of the regulations imposed on them succumb to these imps’ whims.

Brutus prudently soliloquized in Julius Caesar that power corrupts when exercised without compassion. Authority for that matter isn’t bound to the khaki clad or the men in Gandhi topi. The system corrupts at birth. Just turn reflective and start tallying the crooked seconds from the maternity home, to your school, to the playground, to college… even testimony of your existence – the birth certificate is forged for the admissions to school. Parents crib about the birth month-year Oedipus complex, so hasn’t anyone thought of redeeming and altering the system a bit? And now you are here at college, where apart from you there are numerous others who blame the system and yet form it to be blamed.

Why are they having lunch at 2:30 p.m., an hour after the scheduled? “Was working at the window then”, I got back. And who’s responsible for the line and chaos at 2 and a half? Who isn’t aware of the red tape style at colleges? Does one need to mention the delays and hassles for every trivial errand? Each man to his own job is the decree. Why can’t on a non working day one man collect/complete petty details/formalities of a few other friends along with his? The authority trounces you down on raising a little voice for time/energy/money/ease/fuel (concerns for a failed Copenhagen too), “you’ll teach me how to do my work?” is often roared in corridors, offices across the country. Concerns, these aren’t ignorable! Can’t we take a genuine step to answer the aforesaid?
Ignorant of our rights, we grovel down, submit ourselves to their tyranny, for they handle our careers, grades, admissions, licences or of course we don’t want the court-kachaeri ke chakkar, police tormenting our families like ill-fated Ruchika’s and the way in of the neta into the scene!

This comes here in this technical paper as an urge to all budding engineers to fabricate a system wherein all its components are well greased and needn’t be dealt with oily hands, wherein no independent axle disrupts the functioning, wherein the maximum efficiency is attained. System I sigh; it’s time we realize we are an integral ingredient of the much abused system. We need to mend our souls for its soles to run.

Wake up Raj!

While returning to the hostel yesterday, my friend exasperatedly narrated an incident from his class. “You know, how happy they were when they read that Karan Johar said sorry to Raj Thackeray… just because the movie said Bombay and not Mumbai.” Well his rage is justified, do the stars in the movie calling Mumbai, Bombay, anyhow lessen the city? Has somebody legally/constitutionally challenged the name, for which such brouhaha? It’s just a movie. Even the grammar of the languages has scope for formal writing and colloquial styles. Then Bombay remains the former name or shall we say a pet name now? Raj sahib we still refer to Mumbai everywhere official.

This didn’t come as a publicity stunt, for just a couple of days back did he propose a permit for non-Maharashtrians to visit the city. Just a sorry (if that comes), would it suffice for such unconstitutionally erratic behaviour? Well now some strong heads of the country (oh! I still include aamchi Mumbai), would parade to get him jailed for stirring up lingual differences in the jannlok. Does he run a parallel government or does Raj fancies him crowned for an autocracy? Dictator on the rise, rather! Where have the policing been? I don’t count the regular stoic State Police, but the high spirited moral police. A licence to move about in my country! Isn’t he being morally bad? Hey Raj (if this pleases your ears), these very people have made Bombay, Mumbai. Alas! Such ironies are just platitude to him. Expel the apologetic Johar and his ilk, and India loses the jewel, Mumbai.

What fears you Thackeray, the loss of original Mumbaikars? Have a panoramic view on the land beyond Mumbai. Sardars have been the fuel of laughter for all at the cost of the community, taking all sportingly. Any voracious eater is pointed out as the Bengal ka bhooka. My Bihari friends have given a wonderful Bhojpuri accent to make moments lighter. And here you keep a hisaab of a rupee, there comes the remark arre re Sindhi! How do I forget the Swami of the South? When I call all a Madrasi, these hilarious movie caricatures take all in the stride. Had all these regionally divided men taken umbrage to their references, or isolated themselves on the illusion of superiority, Raj bhau, India would have disintegrated into 28 odd pieces. So is Ranbir and Konkona’s reference to Mumbai as Bombay an insult; as hurting as those to Sardars or Bengalis? Is Johar visiting you, repentant for being colloquial, justified? It degrades the spirit of Mumbai, Raj bhaiya!

Anyways the movie was superb for all us aimless beings. Oh! Thackeray saab, did you relate yourself to it? I mean, all of us, my friends thought it was ‘just so me’. I suppose it could give you an aim. Look into your Mumbai. Arre forget who’s calling the city what! Look in what mess is that city. For the love of your Mumbai, do something of it’s now Oscar winning slums. Dilapidated infrastructure! That adjective too falls short to describe the status quo infrastructure. So how were the water logging this year? Thank God it didn’t rain hell this monsoon. And the honking traffic? The wonderful Taj graded security? The power? The filth and squalor? Raj bhai, our Mumbai lists in the top 52 dirtiest cities of the world. Shanghai, New York the financial capitals of the world stand as the quintessential cosmopolitan cities, cant India’s money capital be at least a true metropolis, showcasing the entire country?

Wake up Raj! Wake up!

Cast away!

We, the batch of ’88 avidly look ahead to tread the first step towards the change, to cast the first vote towards the change! Excitement, vigour, determination and a sense of pride flushes through, as we sight this as accomplishing our most fundamental right - responsibility - duty. Alas! I feel resentment. And many would share my plight of not being able to exercise the right, the first step into adulthood. As they chant and we realize, elections form the soul of the democracy, conferring on us the right to exist, sustain and live the ‘our-way’ of it and voting is how we exercise this!

Unfortunately, the Republic of India falls short at providing this to its citizens. A 3^rd year engineering student racking my head in the final exams that I take now, I miss the two IPLs. Yes the Indian Political League forms the second. And many would be stuck up with their jobs at places where they don’t exist in accord to the Democracy’s lists, the voters’ list. The media and rigorous campaigning has stirred up young India dramatically. So much so that it has prodded the often politically aloof youngsters around me to start talking on the issues and hauling them to the ballot. But ballot they don’t reach! My name proudly stands in the lists for the constituency of Agra, and I humbly sit in an examination hall in Nagpur. But there are my many friends to console me as they drudgingly sail in the same waters, sailing far away from the elections at their shores.

62 years on and the country hasn’t reached its citizens the basic right, and they keep talking of bijli and paani (sadly, that too futile). 62 years on and we still exhaust ourselves in the simplest of all castings. 62 years on and we pass miserably at this eligibility test as a democracy. Booming India, and in booming percentages has the youth wandered far from their towns and cities, to study, work and boom India. Swelling number of people has cast away its right to cast.

We deem to be a pillar in the international political and economic axes, a pillar to be reckoned by all, but can’t redeem and revise our system? Pace for progress should be this slow? Its time the Commission pace up its plans and execute them. Modify and progress with the times and needs. I see a solution to my resentment and others’ right to their right-duty. Revising completely the roll list of voters and its formation procedures, making it thorough would be one. Next would be to get the whole system online. It could be formed on the basis of railway ticketing and booking. Each voter could be given its unique ID number that could exercise and have access only once with validity lasting the voting hours for the particular constituency it’s meant to be, from anywhere and any online polling booth across the country. The secret ballot and the indelible ink remain crucial, playing their part. Once the vote is cast, the name and ID number would be ticked and counted in the electoral list generated in the main database. The ID would then be invalid for use everywhere. Of course we need to keep a vigil on its vulnerability. The US follows some online system, as so do many developed nations.

This new system I assume wouldn’t be that tough for the commission to follow provided its ready to dedicate itself to its work, working meticulously and thoroughly. Oh! No. I don’t blame its credibility. Having wrong and erroneous voter ID cards with switched over sexes, ludicrously wrong birth years, even distributing ones with birth years as ’94 (my friend’s elder brother!), is a small bearable fault. Leave alone the failure in delivery of the cards to many.

Providing its citizens with a right to avail all rights would be the basic essence of any democracy. Boasting of the largest democracy, we need to be quick in mastering this feat, for this would be the first stone for proper governance, better policies and the Janta’s choice and adept representation that would work in accordance to the will of the citizens of India.

The Big Hindustani Tamasha!

 

The world’s largest democracy witnesses its testimony of being, evidence of very existence, as we move ahead zealously towards the secret ballot. After all sailing through a sea of instability all around isn’t an easy task. Hats off to the Indian Democracy!

 

Truly democratic, of, for and by the people, the country has many a varied names to flaunt of. It exhibits a panorama of Gandhi topis and white dhotis, a complete kaleidoscope of the policies, politics and politicians. And there democratically, have sprung up numerous parties. Branched out and evolved countless off springs adding spice to the pot. India now showcases an array of ideologies, policies and thereby thy politicians to choose from. The aam aadmi has a tailor made party to vote for, in accord to his line of thought. And that goes to the overflowing strength of the nation.

           

But as we sail into this, it dawns upon me our piteous state. The very meaning of the word democracy appears false. These months, the run up to the elections bear our warts and all. Democratically raised, the countless parties stirring up their regional tamashas, and a few messing up with the religion-al bakhedaas, have lost in their frenzy the connotation of the word issue. Though their issues now turn their guns against their procreators. But this remains ephemeral. As time ripens for a change, amnesia takes on the better of them. Bhai there are no foes or friends in this business. “Aapsi sahyog se hi to desh chalega!” and how well are twisted and turned the denotation of words like sahyog, to suit their needs.

 

Such is our belief in the system, in us that we prepare campaign and read out manifestos not for the elections but for the coalition post elections. That’s smart work. That’s the only ‘big thing’ for the government. The loss is no more a letdown anymore (I doubt if it has ever been). They are confident on their incapability’s; they have trust in their loosing ideologies, believe that their work and policies are inadequate and acknowledge that the janta disapproves of them. And so does it reflect our, the common man’s fading believes and missing in the woods, our thinking routes. Our basic essence now is bedlam that governs our walk ahead; our approach towards everything causes this coalition as an output.  And we call us a developing nation, with such a mess to get ourselves governed?

 

So there we go with all the mudslinging and draping democracy dirty. UPA, NDA and the precarious Third Front, all catapults such a puppetry and manifest the big fat Indian Politics, a complete entertainment package? So much is the coalition in the mainstream, so much does it form the axis that everything else forms a backdrop to this picturesque drama. So much is this into everyone, so much does it form the core of the netas that one can’t think beyond the mili-juli sarkar. And there creeps in the vices of democracy. The gatbandhan! They are in power, but with sahyog and they persistently smile to their sahyogis. Just to remain in power, just to be the policymaker, they appease their supporters in the House, forgetting the very policies. The tenure passes by just in an attempt to remain in for the whole tenure. National issues take a backseat and stability of the chair takes the top priority. Backing off the support and the fall of the coalition is of prime concern. Forget all the five year plans, the bills that pile up through the years, the laws that still remain from being implemented. Just for instance, the nuclear empowerment took off during the BJP regime, and was opposed by them when was being taken ahead by the UPA. The government faced the no confidence motion and there was yet another instance of corruption coming to light, scandals like the vote for cash scam. Just to please all the tiny supporting parties, the national interests keep on lingering. As aptly carped by adept/inept Sushmaji, (option open for consideration to the janta), “the United Progressive Alliance has been reduced to an Unlimited Prime-Ministers Alliance”. Revolving around it, is NDA far away from Negotiating Democracy Always? And at this terror struck slowdown, our thousand proficient leaders scuttle their way to the premier chair; nothing but coalition a step ahead.   

 

Had there been a single party government, things would have smoothened dramatically, thereby the government, legislation, judiciary, citizens and the country doing what has to be done, democratically still. They take the chair to rule us, rather than assuming office to serve us. And we need to get them to serve us now. We need to make them realize that the sahyogis are meant to actually sahyog the sarkar. Rather than supporting their selfish beings. The change takes in me. The change radiates from me and the change changes the air around me. My sincere vote would be the change!

 

Change in the politics of the country.

Change in the policies of this democracy.

Change in the way they work.

Change in the way we get them to work.

Change in India.

Change in Me.

Change is my wise vote!

 

 

 

FAILED!

After becoming the most frequently uttered word in 2008, bomb, and its close associates have erected new pillars of terror to reckon with. The ‘scroll of horror’ has the new national topper, in the name of 26/11. Interestingly, our national topper missed the ‘International Panic List’ by one place to 9/11. And we have counted yet another date in the never ending list. 60 hours long smoking bloody act wasn’t less than a war. And our cash capital was ripped and raped, as it offered a new urban Warfield. Mumbai of 26/11 stood apart for convincingly startling variations. The messengers of devil stormed not into bazaars and crowds, but blew up the country’s elite hotels; our symbols of pride and their nozzles took their prey not the aam aadmi, but the often cocooned and distanced men and women in glaze. Though I don’t rule out the aam aadmi blooded at CST or Nariman, at Cama, or Leopold (poor they are for granted fodder for their bullets now), but the top brass has been touched including many a businessmen, socialites, and foreign guests. They can just mess with India in and out, and they gave a souvenir. A souvenir, that took its toll close to a second century, and slaying our heroes. 

It was until the night of fate, martyr Hemant Karkare wasn’t really pictured heroic, but surely was being sacked in controversies. The ATS chief, scuffled as politics, just another name of terror, choked his throat, for being a little tough to the previous, not so long ago terror strike at this very city. NSG Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan, couldn’t even get a respectful martyrdom with the Kerala chief minister’s pestiferous remarks. And there were several other real heroes; and Gujrat chief minister Narendra Modi sights to gift money to the family of a slain security officer. The commandoes and police no doubt paid for the folly of the big men in the chairs, even the hotel staff needs acknowledgment for the displayed chauvinism or simply continuing their job of serving the guests, taking bullets on their backs. 

The mayhem stretched for 60 hours, out of which the first 10 hours was free knocking off time given to the perpetrators. Of course action was taken, our CM Deshmukh touring Kerala then, was informed who passed on the news to the Capital, and our Home Minister ordered the NSG commandos, then in their siesta. IL 76 (again trudged in drowsiness, when juxtaposed to Boeings or Airbuses) finally carried them to Mumbai when round one of slaughter was done. It’s shameful, for a country spanning such vast a territory to be the 7^th largest, even with a spanning terror record, the National Security Guard’s HQ. is based only in New Delhi, a city some thousand kilometres north of just the centre, zero mile Nagpur. Never did the government think of establishing branches in other cities? Why never in Mumbai, even after bearing the wrath umpteen number of times in the past? 

The blood has been spilled, and now was the turn to spill out flaws in other’s errands. February 11^th, the Intelligence reported of Taj being targeted. More recently, the IB reported of threats to Mumbai, even about the sea approach. The RAW seconded this.Not paying heed to such reports, was the government now immune to it, taking place so often, every other day? Or did the government deliberately pay a deaf ear and ignored the Bureau’s sayings for reasons concealed under the chair? Dismissing grave threat reports like this doesn’t leave any scope for the people, but to believe that the government has cheated on the country. And then starts the secretaries’ job of penning down a power packed grief and pain, fitted with zealous promises to reach the depth and preventing it ahead, to be delivered at the lectern by the Prime Minister and the Home Minister. Bomb after bomb, city after city, the PM and Home Minister uttered similar words, same wows in equal sorrow and determination as the previous one. What happens to those speeches then, Mr. Prime Minister? Do you keep a copy in your file for future references; because we never saw that in execution? 

Mr. Patil, the union Home Minister had to step down, something that should have happened quite earlier. Rather it doesn’t make a difference now, the damage has been done. Absolute display of inefficiency in the capacity of the Home Minister, it was a complete disaster with no authority or control on the flow of task. No organized security. Then come in the camera flashes, with B-town’s flickering starlet and withering film-maker making guest appearances at the tragic Taj. His ‘Taj ki Aag’ has been nipped in the bud, even though I foresee it burning into ashes at the BO. Just a moment, did I miss the Marathi phantom, oops patron Raj bhau? “tu kuthe aahe?” Planning the lathi charge of the commandoes from north and south of Maratha? Hard hearted R.R. Patil, the state Home Minister, wasn’t moved by the carnage, but is rightly moved off his chair now. And the CM says he’s not to be blamed for the failures. Yes, it’s me and my friends who have caused it, couldn’t keep the security atop.Whose responsible? I ask a simple question? Who will take the charge? Or am I vulnerable in my own home?

The marine guards were on their own voyage, where was their scrutiny? How come such things take place? The whole system is corrupt. The government itself doped, how will it keep its forces brisk? The much denounced smuggling actually bakes bread in the homes of the men at sea. Why not, if their counterparts on land have a right to levy an extra note to cross state borders? It’s futile to ask these questions. The white apparelled men are efficient at their task; the blame game. And the marine police isn’t to be blamed for missing out on the trawler that carried death, after all their pelf is at stake. And now we cry, “If forces were vigilant…” 

But our leaders (leading us into the pits), are quick to react. Wise are the men who flow with the tide. The opposition gets a chance to bank on votes. They still see votes in the blood shed. My heart bleeds when I such callousness all around me. They categorize terror in columns of religion; Hindu and Islamic terrors. Martyr Karkare went to the wall for he kept a hindu under the lens, for involvement in a terror attack. Never mind if the army doesn’t co-operate with the ATS. The bullets have no religion. Neither do guns read the Koran or Gita or the Bible. Yes the innocent indeed follows a religion; that of peace. There were nearly 40 Muslims massacred in the Bombay mishap. One Ansari family of six shot one after another at CST. The shooters acted on Allah’s words? But our babus dance the democracy. 

It’s high time the netas come out of their tarnished image. It’s time they prove their mettle. At least now? Or else our heads hang in shame. If an economist sits as a Finance Minister, wouldn’t a retired defence personnel or police inspector sit best as the Defence Minister or the Home Minister? The U.S. of A has made sure it’s not touched again after 9/11. And we? A public practice session for bombers? A ‘mandir ka ghanta’ if I talk raw.

Mumbai’s spirit, Indian Spirit of getting up from blood has got world wide acclamation, It’s time we stand up and declare enough is enough, though that enough passed long ago.

If the government can’t save us, let the army rule this country. The subtle speeches of Dr. Manmohan and Madame Pratibha fail to extinguish my rage. India needs leaders. It’s time to wake up. We have the power in our hands. Vote! Vote sensibly, think out of kaums, casts, jaats and dharams. Truly, Jaago India.

And things move back to normalization. I read about a bomb blast at Assam railway station two days after the turmoil. My room mate asks, “Again?” and I reply, “Arre, normal-wale.”