Revisiting an old post ...the sentiments being the same again :-)
We visited another world last week.
It was dense with tall, green trees, the earth was red and pebbled, the horses hawed and neighed and galloped all the time, and an army of monkeys walked along chirping continuously. The majesty of the mist-capped hills held us spellbound, the gentle nip in the air teased and titillated, the snowy sky dropped dew even as the moon slithered away with practised ease.
We came back to earth every few hours for replenishment. And the lavish Gujarati thali seemed to soften the blow.
Afternoons were spent on nowhere land as the peace and quiet within and without grew to lull us into a satiated slumber. A sharp zing of ginger in the tea, sipped on a swing, would equip us for another road of discovery. Each time we walked to an end, the visual tapestry unfolding before us would hit us anew. Mostly, it was the ridged terrain that compelled awe in our highly unyielding selves. Sometimes, it was a quaint, old dam that defined one side of the green waters framed by lush trees, or an ancient temple which was all yours for all the time you need.
I have been a virtual resident of this many-splendoured land in my childhood, when a week-long vacation was a must for the family every few months. We travelled first class, stayed in the best hotel in peak season, rode horses like maniacs till the horse tired of us, and, then, ran with their hooves till dusk broke to dawn.
When we did walk, we locked arms and blocked the road, chanting in sync, ``I left, I left, I left my wife and 48 children in the ....'' (for the penultimate step, you took a step backward, and psyched everyone around out of their wits.)
All the while, we would be bathed in the red dust that continually rose and settled on the stony paths all leading to some panoramic points. Echo Point, Monkey Point, Sunset Point, Sunrise Point, Charlotte Lake, Louisa Point, Rambaug Point, and some ten others-- each sharply rivalling the other in the regalty of the view it proffered.
As kids, we had to reckon with the monkeys hanging close to our rooms, waiting for a half-chance to swoop on the mangoes in the crate that inevitably accompanied us in the summers. Outside the hotel, they hopped around you, and, making a mockery of your self-belief, scratched and snatched that peanut packet you had held in a tight fist. I firmly believe that we have a huge hand in the continuation of this ancestral tribe.
Riding was a high that has never since been breached. Our loyal horseman would pick some thoroughbreds, who were either preparing for the Mahalaxmi race track or were done with it, and we'd set off for a wild run, winding up on at least one occasion each time with a heart-pounding gallop on the deserted race course of the place.
At times, the horses got moody and wanted to nick at you. Mine tried that once mid-trot, stopping right in middle of the bazaar and turning its long neck to have a go at my legs. Even as I tried reining him in, someone cut across the road and took charge of my wayward ward.
I am loathe to be back in this concrete hell even though I no longer sit on horses, or do I covet monkeys as much (I see enough of them in the city). What I do miss are the red soil, the imprints of hooves on it, and the smell of horse and horse shit in the air. I miss the easy ambience where nobody cares what you wear because it all looks red anyway. I miss the lazy walks and the tread along the edge of endless cliffs. Most of all, I miss watching the sunset without feeling guilty for doing so.
In case you still dont know which place I'm talking about, it's called Matheran.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Are we ever going to live down Vinita Kamte's book or Hasan Gafoor's alleged inefficiency or the mystery behind the three officers --Hemant Karkare, Ashok Kamte and Vijay Salaskar --taking off in one police car?
Vinita is an amazing lady. She made it a point to show everyone why exactly her husband went in the same car after having some seriously gross and unthinking people question her about it. I assume the book is based on facts as I know she worked hard on it. But one must remember she lost her husband. It is possible, and she is legitimately entitled to, that she sees things differently. She may be right about Rakesh Maria and, then, she may be wrong.
I would tend to give Maria the benefit of doubt. It was an unbelievably chaotic night and he was being hemmed in by calls from all directions. He directed Kamte allegedly to his death, according to Vinita, at a time nobody had a clear idea of the scale of the attacks. Rumours were floating in thick and fast, panic frenzy had set in even among the cops, and everybody wanted to find a way to checkmate those demons.
I would think we are complaining with the benefit of hindsight. Mistakes take place in an abnormal situation, particularly when the administration has completely dispensed with the crisis management plan. The state and the city of Mumbai have separate disaster management plans. But both lie in cold storage. No minister has ever bothered to keep it active by training officers and men and carrying out periodic mock drills. Had that been done, the police rank and file would have been better tuned in, would have responded better, with the command and control lines being clearly drawn.
This, according to me, is where Vilasrao Deshmukh failed. This is where the political machinery took our lives for granted and this is where the officers were betrayed. One needs to look at the larger picture.
Vinita's book is a worthwhile effort and must be read. What I am tired of this media projection of a battle. Each day, the papers go on and on about her charges, Maria's justifications, quotes from has-beens.
Sure, the channels and the print media have perfected the art of smelling a controversy out of nowhere, conjuring up clashes, and living off it for a week till it is well and truly spent. In the process, nobody goes beyond the given and the issue gets trivialised. The reader/viewer gets what he read/saw yesterday and the day before with a few tweaks here and there.
Ditto for Gafoor. Poor man. He was a simpleton who did not build his camp in the police force and paid for it by losing his job. I know he was not inefficient and he was made a scapegoat. Yes, he could have done better but then, so could have everybody else including us.
Why are we not talking about real culprits? Gafoor, Maria etc. are being blamed for what happened at the spot. Why are we not attacking those goons in white who kept security matters on the backburner for years? These guys laughed at coastal security, ignored the crying need to reform the police, neglected disaster management preparedness, and were busy filling their own coffers by inking large business deals and selling off coast to corporates for hefty haftas.
These politicians are the real crooks, guys. They need to be hanged.
Until we do that, we are merely nitpicking, completely mistaking the wood for the trees. And worse, there is no telling if we are safe from a second attack if they do nothing even NOW. Who's to make them?
Vinita is an amazing lady. She made it a point to show everyone why exactly her husband went in the same car after having some seriously gross and unthinking people question her about it. I assume the book is based on facts as I know she worked hard on it. But one must remember she lost her husband. It is possible, and she is legitimately entitled to, that she sees things differently. She may be right about Rakesh Maria and, then, she may be wrong.
I would tend to give Maria the benefit of doubt. It was an unbelievably chaotic night and he was being hemmed in by calls from all directions. He directed Kamte allegedly to his death, according to Vinita, at a time nobody had a clear idea of the scale of the attacks. Rumours were floating in thick and fast, panic frenzy had set in even among the cops, and everybody wanted to find a way to checkmate those demons.
I would think we are complaining with the benefit of hindsight. Mistakes take place in an abnormal situation, particularly when the administration has completely dispensed with the crisis management plan. The state and the city of Mumbai have separate disaster management plans. But both lie in cold storage. No minister has ever bothered to keep it active by training officers and men and carrying out periodic mock drills. Had that been done, the police rank and file would have been better tuned in, would have responded better, with the command and control lines being clearly drawn.
This, according to me, is where Vilasrao Deshmukh failed. This is where the political machinery took our lives for granted and this is where the officers were betrayed. One needs to look at the larger picture.
Vinita's book is a worthwhile effort and must be read. What I am tired of this media projection of a battle. Each day, the papers go on and on about her charges, Maria's justifications, quotes from has-beens.
Sure, the channels and the print media have perfected the art of smelling a controversy out of nowhere, conjuring up clashes, and living off it for a week till it is well and truly spent. In the process, nobody goes beyond the given and the issue gets trivialised. The reader/viewer gets what he read/saw yesterday and the day before with a few tweaks here and there.
Ditto for Gafoor. Poor man. He was a simpleton who did not build his camp in the police force and paid for it by losing his job. I know he was not inefficient and he was made a scapegoat. Yes, he could have done better but then, so could have everybody else including us.
Why are we not talking about real culprits? Gafoor, Maria etc. are being blamed for what happened at the spot. Why are we not attacking those goons in white who kept security matters on the backburner for years? These guys laughed at coastal security, ignored the crying need to reform the police, neglected disaster management preparedness, and were busy filling their own coffers by inking large business deals and selling off coast to corporates for hefty haftas.
These politicians are the real crooks, guys. They need to be hanged.
Until we do that, we are merely nitpicking, completely mistaking the wood for the trees. And worse, there is no telling if we are safe from a second attack if they do nothing even NOW. Who's to make them?
I know nothing about cricket and am immune to the fuss over Sachin Tendulkar. (God! have I committed blasphemy!)
Still, to get it out of the way, here goes:
Still, to get it out of the way, here goes:
"Nothing bad can happen to us if we're on a plane in India with Sachin
Tendulkar on it."
- Hashim Amla, the South African batsman, reassures himself as he boards a
flight.
"Sometimes you get so engrossed in watching batsmen like Rahul Dravid and
Sachin Tendulkar that you lose focus on your job."
- Yaseer Hameed in pakistani newspaper.
"To Sachin, the man we all want to be"
- Andrew Symonds wrote on an aussie t-shirt he autographed specially for
Sachin.
“Beneath the helmet, under that unruly curly hair, inside the cranium, there
is something we don't know, something beyond scientific measure. Something
that allows him to soar, to roam a territory of sport that, forget us, even
those who are gifted enough to play alongside him cannot even fathom. When
he goes out to bat, people switch on their TV sets and switch off their
lives."
- BBC on Sachin
"Tuzhe pata hai tune kiska catch chhoda hai?"
- Wasim Akram to Abdul Razzaq when the latter dropped Sachin's catch in 2003
WC.
Sachin is a genius. I'm a mere mortal.
- Brian Charles Lara
"We did not lose to a team called India ...
we lost to a man called Sachin."
- Mark Taylor, during the test match in Chennai (1997)
"The more I see of him the more confused I'm getting to which is his best
knock."
- M. L. Jaisimha
"The joy he brings to the millions of his countrymen, the grace with which
he handles all the adulation and the expectations and his innate humility -
all make for a one-in-a-billion individual,"
- Glen McGrath
"I can be hundred per cent sure that Sachin will not play for a minute
longer when he is not enjoying himself. He is still so eager to go out there
and play. He will play as long as he feels he can play,"
- Anjali Tendulkar
"India me aap PrimeMinister ko ek Baar Katghare me khada kar sakte
hain..Par Sachin Tendulkar par Ungli nahi utha Sakte.. “
- Navjot Singh Sidhu on TV
He can play that leg glance with a walking stick also.
- Waqar Younis
Sachin Tendulkar has often reminded me of a veteran army colonel who has
many medals on his chest to show how he has conquered bowlers all over the
world. I was bowling to Sachin and he hit me for two fours in a row. One
from point and the other in between point and gully. That was the last two
balls of the over and the over after that we (SA) took a wicket and during
the group meeting i told Jonty (Rhodes) to be alert and i know a way to pin
Sachin. And i delivered the first ball of my next over and it was a fuller
length delevery outside offstump. And i shouted catch. To my astonishment
the ball was hit to the cover boundary. Such was the brilliance of Sachin.
His reflex time is the best i have ever seen. Its like 1/20th of a sec. To
get his wicket better not prepare. Atleast u wont regret if he hits you for
boundaries.
- Allan Donald
On a train from Shimla to Delhi , there was a halt in one of the stations.
The train stopped by for few minutes as usual. Sachin was nearing century,
batting on 98. The passengers, railway officials, everyone on the train
waited for Sachin to complete the century. This Genius can stop time in
India !!
- Peter Rebouck - Aussie journalist
"Sachin cannot cheat. He is to cricket what (Mahatma) Gandhiji was to
politics. It's clear discrimination. "
- NKP Salve, former Union Minister when Sachin was accused of ball tempering
There are 2 kind of batsmen in the world. One Sachin Tendulkar. Two all the
others.
- Andy Flower
"I have seen god, he bats at no.4 for India "
- Mathew Hayden
"Commit all your sins when Sachin is batting. They will go unnoticed coz
even the GOD is watching"
- A hoarding in England
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Today, I want to talk about my mom. Again. Because she is just so amazing. Its based on some random recollections. Have taken care to ensure it reads straight but if any gushing sounds emanate from the narration, kindly pardon.
My mother sometimes visits this garden which is frequented by an assorted variety of women -- mothers bringing kids to play, old ladies accompanied by nurses, middle-aged women out for a breath of fresh air and so on.
For most of them, my mother's entry changes things, subtly. Some of them stop talking mid-way and grin at her, others look up with delight, another bunch want to get down to talking matters of the nation rightaway.
On the few occasions I went with her, the garden throng complained that they had to stop gossiping when my mother arrived. "She hears us out but without interest and then gently tells us that if we can't say anything good about anybody, we should not discuss that person at all. She dislikes any bitching," that is derisively passed off as an old woman's passion.
One amazing 88-year-old lady, who was a school principal and lives alone, loves to discuss politics with mom and tells her, "You are so clued in about everything, it's good to talk with you."
Another lady loves to talk spirituality. "Your mother is a fount of knowledge. She knows so much. I love listening to her," she says.
Even as we enter the garden, people ask after her health. My mom's reply is standard: fine. She won't talk about her recent fall, her aching back and knees, the stab of pain she feels on shifting positions, the fact that she cannot climb at all, the fact that she feels weak and a host of problems that make living so confining for her.
Throughout my life, everybody including friends have told me how my mom is different. Her writings have continually been a source of pride for her fans and friends. Her abridged version of an extremely evolved Jain text, which most dont dream of attempting to understand, has had scholars raving.
Recently, one lady whom I barely know, told me, "I have been watching your mom for years and had told my mother that she is something else."
Another admirer known for her spiritualness tells me every time I meet, "Tumhare to ghar mein ganga hain."
How does all this move my mother? She frowns, wonders whom these people are talking about and walks on non-chalantly. "What is the fuss all about?" she says. Anybody can do it, she insists.
Recently, I was psyched out of my wits when I got an SMS from her cell phone: "Hi, what are you doing?"
I thought my sister may have typed it out for her. Next, she says, "Why r u not replying?" Curious about the ghost-writer, I called her. She said my sister had just shown her once how to sms and she was trying it out. Once? "Ya," she says simply. Since then, she has been checking on my welfare through sms.
When I told her nobody her age could sms, she was indifferent. "Of course not. Everybody can." So I asked her to check with her friends. To date, she has not. But we know the answer.
Mom's lifestyle is so spartan it's not funny. She is not interested in the simple indulgences of life that we live for. She has little love for food, clothes, or movies; doesnt watch television but ensures she catches up on every bit of news locally, nationally and internationally.
Her diet remains the same, day after day, and has been for at least three decades. And so do her sarees. I mean, they have been around for that long as well. Not for her listening to the radio for movie songs, or trying to impress someone with her beauty or brains or wealth.
Give her a stimulating book anyday. Increasingly, it is to do with spirituality, rather than religion.
I am grateful I was born to you, Mum. Hope I can do it again.
My mother sometimes visits this garden which is frequented by an assorted variety of women -- mothers bringing kids to play, old ladies accompanied by nurses, middle-aged women out for a breath of fresh air and so on.
For most of them, my mother's entry changes things, subtly. Some of them stop talking mid-way and grin at her, others look up with delight, another bunch want to get down to talking matters of the nation rightaway.
On the few occasions I went with her, the garden throng complained that they had to stop gossiping when my mother arrived. "She hears us out but without interest and then gently tells us that if we can't say anything good about anybody, we should not discuss that person at all. She dislikes any bitching," that is derisively passed off as an old woman's passion.
One amazing 88-year-old lady, who was a school principal and lives alone, loves to discuss politics with mom and tells her, "You are so clued in about everything, it's good to talk with you."
Another lady loves to talk spirituality. "Your mother is a fount of knowledge. She knows so much. I love listening to her," she says.
Even as we enter the garden, people ask after her health. My mom's reply is standard: fine. She won't talk about her recent fall, her aching back and knees, the stab of pain she feels on shifting positions, the fact that she cannot climb at all, the fact that she feels weak and a host of problems that make living so confining for her.
Throughout my life, everybody including friends have told me how my mom is different. Her writings have continually been a source of pride for her fans and friends. Her abridged version of an extremely evolved Jain text, which most dont dream of attempting to understand, has had scholars raving.
Recently, one lady whom I barely know, told me, "I have been watching your mom for years and had told my mother that she is something else."
Another admirer known for her spiritualness tells me every time I meet, "Tumhare to ghar mein ganga hain."
How does all this move my mother? She frowns, wonders whom these people are talking about and walks on non-chalantly. "What is the fuss all about?" she says. Anybody can do it, she insists.
Recently, I was psyched out of my wits when I got an SMS from her cell phone: "Hi, what are you doing?"
I thought my sister may have typed it out for her. Next, she says, "Why r u not replying?" Curious about the ghost-writer, I called her. She said my sister had just shown her once how to sms and she was trying it out. Once? "Ya," she says simply. Since then, she has been checking on my welfare through sms.
When I told her nobody her age could sms, she was indifferent. "Of course not. Everybody can." So I asked her to check with her friends. To date, she has not. But we know the answer.
Mom's lifestyle is so spartan it's not funny. She is not interested in the simple indulgences of life that we live for. She has little love for food, clothes, or movies; doesnt watch television but ensures she catches up on every bit of news locally, nationally and internationally.
Her diet remains the same, day after day, and has been for at least three decades. And so do her sarees. I mean, they have been around for that long as well. Not for her listening to the radio for movie songs, or trying to impress someone with her beauty or brains or wealth.
Give her a stimulating book anyday. Increasingly, it is to do with spirituality, rather than religion.
I am grateful I was born to you, Mum. Hope I can do it again.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
The media sickens.
The Congress flag is flying at half-mast at the party headquarters because of the accidental death of the Andhra CM. So, the Star News anchor wants to know from his all-knowing reporter colleague, "Tell us, when does the flag fly half-mast?" I flipped, and flicked the remote before getting a sermon on the circumstances under which a flag should fly low.
Ajit Doval, formerly of IB, has said that media aggravated the Kandahar crisis. Had it not been for us, it could have been managed better.
Air India's voice, Jitendra Bhargava, has only one grouse with the world: the media. "If only they would listen," he complains to anyone who cares to listen.
The biggest villains of the 26/11 terror attack was not Pakistani terrorists but the media channels showing the entire combat operation live second by second and causing the needless deaths of several of our securitymen at the hand of the mercenaries clued in because of TV. No lessons learnt. CNN-IBN's Rajdeep Sardesai and some others began some exercise of self-control which has petered out in five seconds.
Today, the cameras were zooming in on the grieving faces of the Andhra CM's family and partymen shamelessly. They even showed one lady, struggling with her tears, asking them to vamoose. Of course, they didn't. The image was live, straight from the spot, and was replayed hundred times over through the day. How much more real can you get? What would you and I have done without these penetrative insights into a family's sense of loss?
As you see, the singular culprit is TV. The print media is far more sane and responsible even today. Notwithstanding its craving to compete with TV, it's a huge consolation that we have not reached there yet, not even with our dumbing down of news, bombardment of celeb circus and semi-porn.
Thank God.
The Congress flag is flying at half-mast at the party headquarters because of the accidental death of the Andhra CM. So, the Star News anchor wants to know from his all-knowing reporter colleague, "Tell us, when does the flag fly half-mast?" I flipped, and flicked the remote before getting a sermon on the circumstances under which a flag should fly low.
Ajit Doval, formerly of IB, has said that media aggravated the Kandahar crisis. Had it not been for us, it could have been managed better.
Air India's voice, Jitendra Bhargava, has only one grouse with the world: the media. "If only they would listen," he complains to anyone who cares to listen.
The biggest villains of the 26/11 terror attack was not Pakistani terrorists but the media channels showing the entire combat operation live second by second and causing the needless deaths of several of our securitymen at the hand of the mercenaries clued in because of TV. No lessons learnt. CNN-IBN's Rajdeep Sardesai and some others began some exercise of self-control which has petered out in five seconds.
Today, the cameras were zooming in on the grieving faces of the Andhra CM's family and partymen shamelessly. They even showed one lady, struggling with her tears, asking them to vamoose. Of course, they didn't. The image was live, straight from the spot, and was replayed hundred times over through the day. How much more real can you get? What would you and I have done without these penetrative insights into a family's sense of loss?
As you see, the singular culprit is TV. The print media is far more sane and responsible even today. Notwithstanding its craving to compete with TV, it's a huge consolation that we have not reached there yet, not even with our dumbing down of news, bombardment of celeb circus and semi-porn.
Thank God.
I have been ODing on Hollywood movies these days. And practically, each one has so many swear words it is not funny. Many of these movies are downright idiotic, some are limp, some others are tacky and some more are spaced out.
There are good ones too but I squirmed through so many of them I marvelled how their societies survive. Our much-condemned Hindi movies of the old, if you dilute their exaggerated emotions, exaggerated drama and supernoisy background score, qualify better as entertainers. The reason we wont say so is that we wont go against dude west. Or, should we say dud west here?
They score big time on individuality. There is far greater emphasis on personal freedoms, personal goals, personal successes, and individual beliefs than there is here. And they beat us hollow on self-assurance, one virtue we have lost sight of for the past few centuries. A country of one billion that won't stand up and be counted. A country that would be happy to chant 'Dhammam Sharanam Gachami' because it comes from of-all-places Burma (even if it originated here) but wont say 'Om Namah Shivaya' without feeling retrograde.
I love many things Indian probably because I am too used to it. I love the food, the festivals, the family bonding, qualities of humility and caring for others, hospitality, cleanliness (I dont agree that we are unclean; I dont know how that one came about), consideration, spirit of sacrifice for family, friends and society at large, and our sense of ease with our surroundings whatever they be (that has kept us together).
But there are some things I seriously don't understand: our hypocrisy, our lack of self-pride and attitude of servility, or shall we call it feudal mentality. Even today, submissive is mistaken to be sweet. More than the big, bad west, there is far greater emphasis on staying sweet, never questioning the boss, never putting across your point of view if it's contrary or contentious. In case you do, you are branded a rebel.
Trust me, I have seen this at several places. Each time I wish to voice my thoughts on something disagreeble, I am stopped by a well-meaning colleague or greeted with alarm. Fortunately for me, my professional culture has made it easier for me to speak straight, even with the editors. And my editors, barring a couple of seriously inept ones, have been amazingly open-minded.
But that's my good luck. Most others falter easily and are misunderstood badly. And that's when I worry why we are such suckers. It shouldn't be disrespectful to air your grievances or opinions. The only thing to watch for is how you do it. Do it without shouting or snapping but logically. If your boss is fair-minded, he will come around and explain why your thinking is wrong, or agree that it's right, or appreciate that you think differently.
It's worked for me, and for a few others like me.
There are good ones too but I squirmed through so many of them I marvelled how their societies survive. Our much-condemned Hindi movies of the old, if you dilute their exaggerated emotions, exaggerated drama and supernoisy background score, qualify better as entertainers. The reason we wont say so is that we wont go against dude west. Or, should we say dud west here?
They score big time on individuality. There is far greater emphasis on personal freedoms, personal goals, personal successes, and individual beliefs than there is here. And they beat us hollow on self-assurance, one virtue we have lost sight of for the past few centuries. A country of one billion that won't stand up and be counted. A country that would be happy to chant 'Dhammam Sharanam Gachami' because it comes from of-all-places Burma (even if it originated here) but wont say 'Om Namah Shivaya' without feeling retrograde.
I love many things Indian probably because I am too used to it. I love the food, the festivals, the family bonding, qualities of humility and caring for others, hospitality, cleanliness (I dont agree that we are unclean; I dont know how that one came about), consideration, spirit of sacrifice for family, friends and society at large, and our sense of ease with our surroundings whatever they be (that has kept us together).
But there are some things I seriously don't understand: our hypocrisy, our lack of self-pride and attitude of servility, or shall we call it feudal mentality. Even today, submissive is mistaken to be sweet. More than the big, bad west, there is far greater emphasis on staying sweet, never questioning the boss, never putting across your point of view if it's contrary or contentious. In case you do, you are branded a rebel.
Trust me, I have seen this at several places. Each time I wish to voice my thoughts on something disagreeble, I am stopped by a well-meaning colleague or greeted with alarm. Fortunately for me, my professional culture has made it easier for me to speak straight, even with the editors. And my editors, barring a couple of seriously inept ones, have been amazingly open-minded.
But that's my good luck. Most others falter easily and are misunderstood badly. And that's when I worry why we are such suckers. It shouldn't be disrespectful to air your grievances or opinions. The only thing to watch for is how you do it. Do it without shouting or snapping but logically. If your boss is fair-minded, he will come around and explain why your thinking is wrong, or agree that it's right, or appreciate that you think differently.
It's worked for me, and for a few others like me.
I know, I know. Its totally not on. I cant simply hope to resurrect myself in your esteem by materialising on this blog every few years.
Unforgiveable.
I couldnt agree more. But all I ask is your forgiveness and I'm sure you will forgive me. Let's look at it this way. Between each post, I'm evolving and growing. And that helps me give you additional value with each post. Ok, I'm going to stop here before I sound like those dreadful marketing guys. (No, not you, Bob, Harry, or whoever reading this is in marketing, I mean everyone else who is not. Come to think of it, I don't know anyone reading my blog who is into marketing. That could be a value addition in itself. Alright.. I stop!)
I don't see the point of an education that teaches you obscure stuff like a(sq) + b(sq) = c(sq), but not basic lessons on community living. Like? Like when you throw junk out of a moving train, it lands in the hands of a poor sweeper whose original job is not to clean the place of YOUR trash but ends up doing so because he is uneducated or semi-educated and therefore expected to pick up your trash, by some quirky logic.
I don't see the point of an education that grooms you to wear the tightest tees and skinniest pants but not give you the understanding that when you sit with your shoes on the seat opposite you on the train, it soils the seat and renders it unfit for anyone else to sit on. There is something called dirt and germs that deposit themselves in parts on that seat and unless your co-commuter is an extremely cynical person, she is most likely not to see it and plonk herself right on it. In the process, she would have gotten her clothing soiled. If anybody thinks this is nitpicking, please put yourself in that co-commuter's shoes and please tell me how you relished the experience of sitting on that soiled seat. I wouldnt know because I fall in the category of 'extremely cynical person' who sniffs and peers around before I park myself on a seat.
While we are on train manners, I find it extremely annoying to be poked (not tapped) by someone on the shoulder and then to be subjected to an offensive finger pointing in your direction. This is not actually an accusatory gesture but an over-simplified way of asking you where you will get down. The seeker of this knowledge will not take the trouble to mouth the words herself but will expect you to take the trouble to speak out your destination. If you are getting off much later, you are in danger of being publicly snubbed as she grimaces, turns a cold shoulder and proceeds to poke your neighbour.
I have now mastered the art of being equally brusque and mannerless (not ill-mannered; that would be too grammatically correct and in this day and age, it is politically incorrect to be correct in any way). So, I look up, coldly point a finger with equally minimal effort to the first person standing nearby and look away. In case you havent understood, I simply suggest by another oversimplified method of communication copyrighted by me that my seat has been claimed by someone else.
For the benefit of non-Mumbaikars, let me explain this claim. In a Mumbai train, if you get in at a station other than the starting point, there is no hope of bagging a seat. So, people getting in from other stations conduct this poking and grimacing exercise to determine if any seated commuter would be getting up soon enough for her to claim that seat.
The booking of the said seat is achieved by the means of another gesture, that is slightly more effortful (I know, I know, but refer to last explanation on grammar, please). On finding that the seat is available after a few stations, the seeker seals the deal by pointing the same finger in the direction of the subject of her last poke and then another hasty swipe in her own direction. Message conveyed, the seekers then proceeds to the footboard with her sweaty and exposed underarms to continue listening to her FM radio blaring on her headset.
I am tempted to ask one of these seekers a simple question but never had the guts to. Is there a law against opening your mouth? Can't one of them tap gently, ask pleasantly, 'Where are you getting off?' (ok, dont add 'please', if that gets long) and then resolve not to make a face if the destination doesn't help her cause? What the heck were you doing in school all these years, ma'am?
As I always say, education has done no good to anybody. It has merely bred bloated egos and contributed to environmental, scientific, social, ethical and economic pollution all over. I'll explain that some day if you are seriously interested.
Unforgiveable.
I couldnt agree more. But all I ask is your forgiveness and I'm sure you will forgive me. Let's look at it this way. Between each post, I'm evolving and growing. And that helps me give you additional value with each post. Ok, I'm going to stop here before I sound like those dreadful marketing guys. (No, not you, Bob, Harry, or whoever reading this is in marketing, I mean everyone else who is not. Come to think of it, I don't know anyone reading my blog who is into marketing. That could be a value addition in itself. Alright.. I stop!)
I don't see the point of an education that teaches you obscure stuff like a(sq) + b(sq) = c(sq), but not basic lessons on community living. Like? Like when you throw junk out of a moving train, it lands in the hands of a poor sweeper whose original job is not to clean the place of YOUR trash but ends up doing so because he is uneducated or semi-educated and therefore expected to pick up your trash, by some quirky logic.
I don't see the point of an education that grooms you to wear the tightest tees and skinniest pants but not give you the understanding that when you sit with your shoes on the seat opposite you on the train, it soils the seat and renders it unfit for anyone else to sit on. There is something called dirt and germs that deposit themselves in parts on that seat and unless your co-commuter is an extremely cynical person, she is most likely not to see it and plonk herself right on it. In the process, she would have gotten her clothing soiled. If anybody thinks this is nitpicking, please put yourself in that co-commuter's shoes and please tell me how you relished the experience of sitting on that soiled seat. I wouldnt know because I fall in the category of 'extremely cynical person' who sniffs and peers around before I park myself on a seat.
While we are on train manners, I find it extremely annoying to be poked (not tapped) by someone on the shoulder and then to be subjected to an offensive finger pointing in your direction. This is not actually an accusatory gesture but an over-simplified way of asking you where you will get down. The seeker of this knowledge will not take the trouble to mouth the words herself but will expect you to take the trouble to speak out your destination. If you are getting off much later, you are in danger of being publicly snubbed as she grimaces, turns a cold shoulder and proceeds to poke your neighbour.
I have now mastered the art of being equally brusque and mannerless (not ill-mannered; that would be too grammatically correct and in this day and age, it is politically incorrect to be correct in any way). So, I look up, coldly point a finger with equally minimal effort to the first person standing nearby and look away. In case you havent understood, I simply suggest by another oversimplified method of communication copyrighted by me that my seat has been claimed by someone else.
For the benefit of non-Mumbaikars, let me explain this claim. In a Mumbai train, if you get in at a station other than the starting point, there is no hope of bagging a seat. So, people getting in from other stations conduct this poking and grimacing exercise to determine if any seated commuter would be getting up soon enough for her to claim that seat.
The booking of the said seat is achieved by the means of another gesture, that is slightly more effortful (I know, I know, but refer to last explanation on grammar, please). On finding that the seat is available after a few stations, the seeker seals the deal by pointing the same finger in the direction of the subject of her last poke and then another hasty swipe in her own direction. Message conveyed, the seekers then proceeds to the footboard with her sweaty and exposed underarms to continue listening to her FM radio blaring on her headset.
I am tempted to ask one of these seekers a simple question but never had the guts to. Is there a law against opening your mouth? Can't one of them tap gently, ask pleasantly, 'Where are you getting off?' (ok, dont add 'please', if that gets long) and then resolve not to make a face if the destination doesn't help her cause? What the heck were you doing in school all these years, ma'am?
As I always say, education has done no good to anybody. It has merely bred bloated egos and contributed to environmental, scientific, social, ethical and economic pollution all over. I'll explain that some day if you are seriously interested.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
The army had decided to observe Vijay Diwas, July 26, when the Indian army won the Kargil war for us. There was no sign of the government even pretending to remember the martyrs. It got into the picture by fluke - in one more incident that demonstrates the power of the media.
How it unfolded: A couple of television channels relayed the causal comment by a former navy chief in the course of another conversation he was having with the anchor. This comment was taken forward to former army chief, V P Malik, who too lamented the lack of even a token appreciation by the government.
Soon, television channels took it upon themselves to criticise the very 'decent prime minister Manomohan Singh who, if you recall, recently sold the country in what has become a very lucrative trade-off for a Pakistan last week. (He issued a joint statement which literally tells a sniggering Pakistan,'Look, you need not do anything about the terror attacks or any other problems you have thrust upon us but we are with you all the way and we accept every single ridiculous accusation--Baluchistan, for one-- that you decide to fling our way).
So, where were we? The channels talked of how the government is shamelessly ignoring the one conflict that brought India together and which marked a turning point for most of us in the way we view the defence forces.
Soon enough, the government PR juggernaut swung into action and while it still did not bother to attend the Drass commemmoration arranged by the army, the decent PM paid homage at Amar Jawan Jyot.
And the media, which is amazingly adept at playing hero and villain in the same breath, dutifully flashed streamers all day telling us that the PM paid his homage to the Kargil martyrs. Anyone who is unaware of the background, as most of us would be, would be thrilled that he voted this sweet and decent PM in. Every single channel mindlessly kept playing up the homage through the day. His wreath got more importance than the real, elaborate ceremony at Drass.
Really, when the hell are we going to apply our minds to what we report and how we cover an event? Is the half minute gesture so important just because he is the PM. And if it is, why not give the precious readers it the context and thereby, some value to their own coverage? It does not require any intelligence to do so, a simple application of mind, as I said. Don't you agree?
Just a btw point: George Fernandes would have certainly driven to Drass to be with his people unlike the defence minister today- what's his name?
--------------------
The Kargil event brought back horrible memories of the war. I remember keeping my fingers crossed every single day, worrying whether an Indian soldier was dying that particular instant. I remember rushing home to switch on the TV at night to get the toll, and crying at the sight of the tricolour on the martyrs' coffins which were taken to their hometowns, a spectacular decision by the Vajpayee government that stirred up an entire nation into giving a rousing welcome to the slain heroes.
I remember meeting some of the injured soldiers in Pune, who were incredibly matter of fact and uncomplaining about their pain or loss of limb. And, believe me, each one of them was willing to go right back to the dreadful heights to root out the roachers the moment their commanding officers agreed.
I dig one point made by Marouf Raza on a TV channel that the killed Pakistani soldiers who were shamelessly dumped and disowned by Pakistan were given a decent burial by the Indian army. A maulvi was called and the soldiers were given a dignified burial-- notwithstanding the fact that they were slimy intruders, who had sneaked up the peaks behind our backs, that they were disowned by their own home country (sounds familiar, haan? remember Kasab? It's a habit with these slimeballs).
These soldiers laid down their lives for each one of us, every single one of us. So, the least we can do is appreciate their sacrifices. One way of doing it would be to ensure we do NOT tolerate any more of these needless attacks--no 26/11, no 7/11 and no Kargil - by cracking the whip on our 'elected' government.
It wont help to pretend that so long as others are laying down their lives for us, we don't have to care. If we continue to be so singularly short on decency, nobody wil be available to do this job for us. As it is, there is already a 30 per cent shortage of officers in the defence forces. The wise guys prefer to save their skin. And money.
How it unfolded: A couple of television channels relayed the causal comment by a former navy chief in the course of another conversation he was having with the anchor. This comment was taken forward to former army chief, V P Malik, who too lamented the lack of even a token appreciation by the government.
Soon, television channels took it upon themselves to criticise the very 'decent prime minister Manomohan Singh who, if you recall, recently sold the country in what has become a very lucrative trade-off for a Pakistan last week. (He issued a joint statement which literally tells a sniggering Pakistan,'Look, you need not do anything about the terror attacks or any other problems you have thrust upon us but we are with you all the way and we accept every single ridiculous accusation--Baluchistan, for one-- that you decide to fling our way).
So, where were we? The channels talked of how the government is shamelessly ignoring the one conflict that brought India together and which marked a turning point for most of us in the way we view the defence forces.
Soon enough, the government PR juggernaut swung into action and while it still did not bother to attend the Drass commemmoration arranged by the army, the decent PM paid homage at Amar Jawan Jyot.
And the media, which is amazingly adept at playing hero and villain in the same breath, dutifully flashed streamers all day telling us that the PM paid his homage to the Kargil martyrs. Anyone who is unaware of the background, as most of us would be, would be thrilled that he voted this sweet and decent PM in. Every single channel mindlessly kept playing up the homage through the day. His wreath got more importance than the real, elaborate ceremony at Drass.
Really, when the hell are we going to apply our minds to what we report and how we cover an event? Is the half minute gesture so important just because he is the PM. And if it is, why not give the precious readers it the context and thereby, some value to their own coverage? It does not require any intelligence to do so, a simple application of mind, as I said. Don't you agree?
Just a btw point: George Fernandes would have certainly driven to Drass to be with his people unlike the defence minister today- what's his name?
--------------------
The Kargil event brought back horrible memories of the war. I remember keeping my fingers crossed every single day, worrying whether an Indian soldier was dying that particular instant. I remember rushing home to switch on the TV at night to get the toll, and crying at the sight of the tricolour on the martyrs' coffins which were taken to their hometowns, a spectacular decision by the Vajpayee government that stirred up an entire nation into giving a rousing welcome to the slain heroes.
I remember meeting some of the injured soldiers in Pune, who were incredibly matter of fact and uncomplaining about their pain or loss of limb. And, believe me, each one of them was willing to go right back to the dreadful heights to root out the roachers the moment their commanding officers agreed.
I dig one point made by Marouf Raza on a TV channel that the killed Pakistani soldiers who were shamelessly dumped and disowned by Pakistan were given a decent burial by the Indian army. A maulvi was called and the soldiers were given a dignified burial-- notwithstanding the fact that they were slimy intruders, who had sneaked up the peaks behind our backs, that they were disowned by their own home country (sounds familiar, haan? remember Kasab? It's a habit with these slimeballs).
These soldiers laid down their lives for each one of us, every single one of us. So, the least we can do is appreciate their sacrifices. One way of doing it would be to ensure we do NOT tolerate any more of these needless attacks--no 26/11, no 7/11 and no Kargil - by cracking the whip on our 'elected' government.
It wont help to pretend that so long as others are laying down their lives for us, we don't have to care. If we continue to be so singularly short on decency, nobody wil be available to do this job for us. As it is, there is already a 30 per cent shortage of officers in the defence forces. The wise guys prefer to save their skin. And money.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
The other day, I had a brief encounter with Narendra Modi in
After hearing him out, I narrated my experience of Ahmedabad a week after the bomb explosion last year. My Muslim car driver, to whom I was a stranger, began blasting his chief minister for all ills on the planet. To the extent of blaming him for the explosions as well. When I tried to reason with him as to why would a CM cut his nose to spite his face, (there was a blast in Modi’s own constituency too), he felt cornered but his feverish resentment showed through every bit of conversation.
Modi heard me out quietly, said he was happy I had told him about it and then suggested I spend 20 days (I am looking for an editor who gives me this kind of time to file stories) in Gujarat, meet people and generally interact with them. “Just see how they live, where they study, etc. Don’t ask them any (political) questions.” The point being, look at the development I have brought to the place, rather than prod drivers.
I asked him what factor or factors one should consider to be a good administrator. “National welfare,” he said promptly. I nodded. “You mean the good of the people.” He said no, national welfare “at all costs.” “The problem with today’s politicians is that they are caught up with either their own selfish ends or with their regional interests.” He gave an example. “If a railway line is planned in such a way that it crosses my region and instead of helping my region, it would harm the interests of the locals or the region in some way, I would still go ahead with it if it means greater national good.”
At that point, one of his aides gave him the news that one Salim had joined the BJP in
What struck me as remarkable was this man’s total lack of concern for striking the right pose with the media. He went into attack mode without any warning, didn’t seem to care if I left in protest or write against him, nor did he dismiss me as a opponent and ill-treat me. He listened carefully even though he made it very clear he was not interested in the media’s projection of him, took pains to put across his point of view when he could have summarily nodded and be done with it.
I came back riled. But considering that I have not seen a single politician who has the guts to rub the media the wrong way (except Pramod Mahajan but that was a case of arrogance, not indifference) and not just for the heck of it, I credit Modi with that bit of decency.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
How would you feel if you manage to save crores of rupees from being plundered by politicians in the future? It is common for a journalist to get appreciation for a story, to make impact by influencing changes in an immediate situation but its perhaps the most satifying moment when she gets to impact policy making in a big way.
A journalist gets to write several stories in her career that make an impact. The earliest ones I wrote caused a change in the dean of JJ Hospital almost two decades ago. Come to think of it, JJ hospital has been one of my early lucky 'spots'. Many of my stories stirred up things there, not always because of the hospital's initiative. I remember when Sanjay Dutt was admitted to hospital supposedly for some ailment (dont remember the details now), and doctors clearly showed on his case papers that there was no need to keep him in an air-conditioned ICU, I wrote a story saying deserving patients were being deprived of an ICU bed because of the actor. The hospital did nothing, but the story was brought to the notice of the court and Dutt was shunted out.
That was a long, long while ago. Some interesting stories have exposed top guys, some others have changed policies for the better of society. Most journalists live for such moments and, with luck, do find them.
Today, I want to write about one particular story on request from a budding journalist friend. This story is actually almost three years old now but it is still in the news. It began with a whisper in my ear by a bureaucrat about the then CM Vilasrao Deshmukh commenting at a cabinet meeting while signing on a medical claim of an ex-MLA. "Someone should do a CBI inquiry into these claims," Deshmukh had apparently said, after saying which he dutifully signed on the dotted line. The CM needs these guys in politics. The claim, incidentally, was for Rs 50 lakh!
My work involved two phases: investigation and research. First, I needed data. I began working on medical claims filed by MLAs, past and present. A four-month long investigation ensued to find out how much money had been usurped through fraudulent claims and on what accounts. I found that if getting information was most difficult, intrepreting it was far worse. When I did get access to the claims, they were in random fashion -- the name of the MLA claiming the amount, the date and the sum. That's it. There was no information about the hospital, or the ailment for which the money was being claimed as a matter of their birthright.
Then I set about interpreting around 400 pages of material that i had collected. Among other things, I found a pattern. Some MLAs or ex-MLAs would claim a certain sum every month without fail, once for the father, then mother, then sister, and so on. Their family members kept falling ill by turns only to the extent of claiming their maximum entitlement per month.
The government had gallantly not framed any rules for medical reimbursements : there was no proforma for a claim, let alone rules. Each time someone decided to claim a high amount, all he needed to do is get the state approval as a "special case", which, I pointed out, was too easy to get. The state signed on endless claims without verifying their credibility-- like the one Vilasrao signed on.
Government servants lose medical benefits on retirement, but our elected representatives enjoy this privilege permanently on serving one single term.
I found the money reimbursed to each such MLA ran into lakhs of rupees. And the loss to the public thanks to these cheats was in several crores. And I had only analysed data of the past four years.
DNA published a full-page plus half the front page account of this shocking scam conducted by elected representatives in full public view. The Janhit Manch filed a PIL based on my report and the Bombay high court ordered an inquiry.
The state admitted it had no proper framework, policies or any real ceiling. In an interim order, the high court asked the government to form a committee to appraise past claims mentioned in the report and another committee on a permanent basis to scrutinise every medical claim in the future. Two MLAs have already returned excess claims of around Rs 20 lakh and many more are in the process of doing so.
The case is still being heard in the high court but, already, the government has been asked to put a proper system in place. In addition, a permanent committee will now pore over every bill to verify its authenticity. In effect, a saving of crores of rupees in the future as well.
Moments like these make you feel maybe my choice of profession was worth it. hmmm...
A journalist gets to write several stories in her career that make an impact. The earliest ones I wrote caused a change in the dean of JJ Hospital almost two decades ago. Come to think of it, JJ hospital has been one of my early lucky 'spots'. Many of my stories stirred up things there, not always because of the hospital's initiative. I remember when Sanjay Dutt was admitted to hospital supposedly for some ailment (dont remember the details now), and doctors clearly showed on his case papers that there was no need to keep him in an air-conditioned ICU, I wrote a story saying deserving patients were being deprived of an ICU bed because of the actor. The hospital did nothing, but the story was brought to the notice of the court and Dutt was shunted out.
That was a long, long while ago. Some interesting stories have exposed top guys, some others have changed policies for the better of society. Most journalists live for such moments and, with luck, do find them.
Today, I want to write about one particular story on request from a budding journalist friend. This story is actually almost three years old now but it is still in the news. It began with a whisper in my ear by a bureaucrat about the then CM Vilasrao Deshmukh commenting at a cabinet meeting while signing on a medical claim of an ex-MLA. "Someone should do a CBI inquiry into these claims," Deshmukh had apparently said, after saying which he dutifully signed on the dotted line. The CM needs these guys in politics. The claim, incidentally, was for Rs 50 lakh!
My work involved two phases: investigation and research. First, I needed data. I began working on medical claims filed by MLAs, past and present. A four-month long investigation ensued to find out how much money had been usurped through fraudulent claims and on what accounts. I found that if getting information was most difficult, intrepreting it was far worse. When I did get access to the claims, they were in random fashion -- the name of the MLA claiming the amount, the date and the sum. That's it. There was no information about the hospital, or the ailment for which the money was being claimed as a matter of their birthright.
Then I set about interpreting around 400 pages of material that i had collected. Among other things, I found a pattern. Some MLAs or ex-MLAs would claim a certain sum every month without fail, once for the father, then mother, then sister, and so on. Their family members kept falling ill by turns only to the extent of claiming their maximum entitlement per month.
The government had gallantly not framed any rules for medical reimbursements : there was no proforma for a claim, let alone rules. Each time someone decided to claim a high amount, all he needed to do is get the state approval as a "special case", which, I pointed out, was too easy to get. The state signed on endless claims without verifying their credibility-- like the one Vilasrao signed on.
Government servants lose medical benefits on retirement, but our elected representatives enjoy this privilege permanently on serving one single term.
I found the money reimbursed to each such MLA ran into lakhs of rupees. And the loss to the public thanks to these cheats was in several crores. And I had only analysed data of the past four years.
DNA published a full-page plus half the front page account of this shocking scam conducted by elected representatives in full public view. The Janhit Manch filed a PIL based on my report and the Bombay high court ordered an inquiry.
The state admitted it had no proper framework, policies or any real ceiling. In an interim order, the high court asked the government to form a committee to appraise past claims mentioned in the report and another committee on a permanent basis to scrutinise every medical claim in the future. Two MLAs have already returned excess claims of around Rs 20 lakh and many more are in the process of doing so.
The case is still being heard in the high court but, already, the government has been asked to put a proper system in place. In addition, a permanent committee will now pore over every bill to verify its authenticity. In effect, a saving of crores of rupees in the future as well.
Moments like these make you feel maybe my choice of profession was worth it. hmmm...
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Mahatma Gandhi's personal effects are being auctioned and the government is maintaining a Sphinx-like silence over it. Sometimes, I think the Congress president should have been born in Egypt instead of Italy though I grant that she certainly understand the second culture better.
Each time there is an issue revolving around Gandhiji, it devolves upon his immediate family to do something about it. If they don't, we certainly don't. The appelation, Father of the Nation, is just a decoration for a man who treated every single Indian as his family and who is long since forgotten by a perpetually expectant country in the serious grip of dying farmers, terrorism, sliding economy and song and dance contests on television (not necessarily in that order).
What do we care about a person who didn't understand fashion or cinema or a slumdog's aspirations to become a millionaire? What do we care about a person whose idea of equality for women was to give them education and equal rights in the household and in the workplace? Would he understand our national obsession with fighting for a woman's right to go to a pub when thousands of women continue to be oppressed at home and outside it? Wouldn't he be branded as regressive if he thinks her right to go to the pub is not as important as being treated civilly by her parents, husband, children and in-laws at home?
So, am I saying women shouldnt go to pubs?
I dislike the pub culture, and am most uncomfortable in a pub. The noise, the loud music and the darkness make me claustrophobic and miserable. I love dancing if I am in the mood. But I would like some room on the dance floor instead of joistling with ten bodies in the darkness for a square centimetre of toespace in a smoke-filled ambience where you can't see your partner.
Having said that, I don't think it's anybody's business to stop me from going to a pub if I want to. Nobody has the right to look down on me if I drink only because I happen to be a woman. I condemn the idea that men can go to a pub but women can't. This is seriously regressive, and wholly worthy of protest. But we need a sense of perspective-- if I am more concerned about the issue of women's rights as the women's lib campaigners have been claiming, I would militate far more over the way women still have to stay at home, suffer death before life in their mother's wombs, and every other form of discriminatory behaviour we are too well aware of.
That's not to say we should let this attack on pub-going women pass. It merits a protest certainly and a sense of outrage at the attacks on those women. But then, why limit your rights to going to a pub? Keep up the good work and extend your battle to far more fundamental matters as well. That, I would say, would demonstrate your commitment to a bigger cause and bring change where it is really necessary.
Each time there is an issue revolving around Gandhiji, it devolves upon his immediate family to do something about it. If they don't, we certainly don't. The appelation, Father of the Nation, is just a decoration for a man who treated every single Indian as his family and who is long since forgotten by a perpetually expectant country in the serious grip of dying farmers, terrorism, sliding economy and song and dance contests on television (not necessarily in that order).
What do we care about a person who didn't understand fashion or cinema or a slumdog's aspirations to become a millionaire? What do we care about a person whose idea of equality for women was to give them education and equal rights in the household and in the workplace? Would he understand our national obsession with fighting for a woman's right to go to a pub when thousands of women continue to be oppressed at home and outside it? Wouldn't he be branded as regressive if he thinks her right to go to the pub is not as important as being treated civilly by her parents, husband, children and in-laws at home?
So, am I saying women shouldnt go to pubs?
I dislike the pub culture, and am most uncomfortable in a pub. The noise, the loud music and the darkness make me claustrophobic and miserable. I love dancing if I am in the mood. But I would like some room on the dance floor instead of joistling with ten bodies in the darkness for a square centimetre of toespace in a smoke-filled ambience where you can't see your partner.
Having said that, I don't think it's anybody's business to stop me from going to a pub if I want to. Nobody has the right to look down on me if I drink only because I happen to be a woman. I condemn the idea that men can go to a pub but women can't. This is seriously regressive, and wholly worthy of protest. But we need a sense of perspective-- if I am more concerned about the issue of women's rights as the women's lib campaigners have been claiming, I would militate far more over the way women still have to stay at home, suffer death before life in their mother's wombs, and every other form of discriminatory behaviour we are too well aware of.
That's not to say we should let this attack on pub-going women pass. It merits a protest certainly and a sense of outrage at the attacks on those women. But then, why limit your rights to going to a pub? Keep up the good work and extend your battle to far more fundamental matters as well. That, I would say, would demonstrate your commitment to a bigger cause and bring change where it is really necessary.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Of terror attacks and white bondage
I haven't seen Slumdog Millionnaire and dont plan to.
But the best way to rest this controversy whether it does discredit to India is to ask foreigners if the movie changed their perception of India. Far better than tearing ourselves up over how oh-so backward and narrow-minded some protestors can be, and wearing the veil of sophistication over ignorance.
Many foreigners who have never visited Mumbai have categorically told me they think of India as the land of snake charmers, never mind the Indian euphoria over its IT lot, or the IIT lot. Most haven't heard of either. One of my highly educated cousins, born in the US but an almost annual visitor to Mumbai, is blank about an institution India bleats about all the time - The IIT. There are many things we take for granted such as our modernness which has not only left many in the West and other parts of the Nether World cold but escaped them entirely.
There is no harm in showing the muck and gore of Indian cities or India but the problem is when you show only that. And, when you show that to a milieu that knows no better; in the process, perpetuating a uni-dimensional view, and an extremely unflattering one at that, of a country of contradictions (and an abject lack of self-pride. Sigh!)
Vir Sanghvi (the wine expert of the country, for the uninitiated) is thrilled that we as a nation have grown up. He is going strictly by the feeble protests against the film. But could it be because we have become indifferent? Just the way we don't care if some 50 fanatic Muslims go on a rampage all over Mumbai and kill 200-plus? All par for the course, is it?
All we have managed to do by way of action after the terror attacks is flaunt the DNA of one of them (because the others are either dead or absconding) to show the world he is a Pakistani. Hey, why are we proving anything to anybody? Why can't we simply say you did it, fellas, and you will get it from us. Then, bomb their terror camps. At the very least.
But all one gets to hear since two months is Pranab Mukherjee mumbling, with such shameful lack of anger, that Pak must act (the way he would probably say, I shall be presenting the budget in March). Man, can't YOU act? Has anybody tied your hands, kya? And day after day, TV repeats the tedium without ever getting bored: "Pranab talks tough, Pranab makes some tough noises, Pranab tells Pakistan it wont tolerate any more terrorist acts?" (yeah, actually!)
Really? Wasn't the last one good enough to act on?
70 days later, we still havent gone beyond 'talking tough', which is giving Pak proof after proof for some baffling reason, pleading it to act (which is bizarre in itself, just like asking the accomplice of an intruder in your home to act against the intruder while you sit with arms crossed), pleading it to act without providing any checklist as to what to act on, and eventually being pushed on to the defensive in a surreal twist of fate by the attacking country.
Forget Israel. Look at Sri Lanka. The moment it felt the foreign media coverage of its drive against LTTE was getting uncomfortable, it promptly ticked off CNN and BBC (I cant imagine Sanghvi and his white-worshippers ever condoning such an atyachaar against a free press in India) to buzz off or behave.
If Pranab is mumbling and fumbling, we are no better. Every single media continues to mindlessly regurgitate his non-statements, unfailingly. Without so much as applying a modium of common sense, forget news sense, to pluck something new from it. It doesn't bother to ask him why he is not going beyond this baloney, or why, pray, won't he then shut up.
As for the common man (barring a few who are now seriously stirred up), he watches and reads and flips the channel or page. When someone discusses the attacks, he shakes his head and says profoundly, these politicians will not do anything. Then on, it's business as usual. Till Kasab Part II strikes.
Peaceniks at what price? Or is it new-found maturity, as Sanghvi would probably see it?
I haven't seen Slumdog Millionnaire and dont plan to.
But the best way to rest this controversy whether it does discredit to India is to ask foreigners if the movie changed their perception of India. Far better than tearing ourselves up over how oh-so backward and narrow-minded some protestors can be, and wearing the veil of sophistication over ignorance.
Many foreigners who have never visited Mumbai have categorically told me they think of India as the land of snake charmers, never mind the Indian euphoria over its IT lot, or the IIT lot. Most haven't heard of either. One of my highly educated cousins, born in the US but an almost annual visitor to Mumbai, is blank about an institution India bleats about all the time - The IIT. There are many things we take for granted such as our modernness which has not only left many in the West and other parts of the Nether World cold but escaped them entirely.
There is no harm in showing the muck and gore of Indian cities or India but the problem is when you show only that. And, when you show that to a milieu that knows no better; in the process, perpetuating a uni-dimensional view, and an extremely unflattering one at that, of a country of contradictions (and an abject lack of self-pride. Sigh!)
Vir Sanghvi (the wine expert of the country, for the uninitiated) is thrilled that we as a nation have grown up. He is going strictly by the feeble protests against the film. But could it be because we have become indifferent? Just the way we don't care if some 50 fanatic Muslims go on a rampage all over Mumbai and kill 200-plus? All par for the course, is it?
All we have managed to do by way of action after the terror attacks is flaunt the DNA of one of them (because the others are either dead or absconding) to show the world he is a Pakistani. Hey, why are we proving anything to anybody? Why can't we simply say you did it, fellas, and you will get it from us. Then, bomb their terror camps. At the very least.
But all one gets to hear since two months is Pranab Mukherjee mumbling, with such shameful lack of anger, that Pak must act (the way he would probably say, I shall be presenting the budget in March). Man, can't YOU act? Has anybody tied your hands, kya? And day after day, TV repeats the tedium without ever getting bored: "Pranab talks tough, Pranab makes some tough noises, Pranab tells Pakistan it wont tolerate any more terrorist acts?" (yeah, actually!)
Really? Wasn't the last one good enough to act on?
70 days later, we still havent gone beyond 'talking tough', which is giving Pak proof after proof for some baffling reason, pleading it to act (which is bizarre in itself, just like asking the accomplice of an intruder in your home to act against the intruder while you sit with arms crossed), pleading it to act without providing any checklist as to what to act on, and eventually being pushed on to the defensive in a surreal twist of fate by the attacking country.
Forget Israel. Look at Sri Lanka. The moment it felt the foreign media coverage of its drive against LTTE was getting uncomfortable, it promptly ticked off CNN and BBC (I cant imagine Sanghvi and his white-worshippers ever condoning such an atyachaar against a free press in India) to buzz off or behave.
If Pranab is mumbling and fumbling, we are no better. Every single media continues to mindlessly regurgitate his non-statements, unfailingly. Without so much as applying a modium of common sense, forget news sense, to pluck something new from it. It doesn't bother to ask him why he is not going beyond this baloney, or why, pray, won't he then shut up.
As for the common man (barring a few who are now seriously stirred up), he watches and reads and flips the channel or page. When someone discusses the attacks, he shakes his head and says profoundly, these politicians will not do anything. Then on, it's business as usual. Till Kasab Part II strikes.
Peaceniks at what price? Or is it new-found maturity, as Sanghvi would probably see it?
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Cynical as it sounds, Mumbai is back to putting its best foot forward, and that foot is generally a self-serving one. We are back to rejoicing and having fun. After all, nobody we care for has died.
Of course, we shed tears for Karkare, Kamte and Salaskar (always in that order) and ah, Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan, and then some others such as a certain Tukaram Ombale. We pledged to make their families flush with funds, and we did.
Now that we're done, we have to get back to our lives. Isn't that what they died for? as someone said. Sure, we cant mourn them forever. Let's cruelly leave that for their families. But I think it's our responsibility to ensure such sacrifices don't have to be made again. Or worse, that we should not have to pay with our lives as well the next time round.
Let's start with recognising Tukaram Ombale's sacrifice as far greater than others. Let's get him a Param Vir Chakra, or any award specially invented for him for what he's done is unparalleled in the world. Catch a terrorist alive. He rushed towards that b****** Kasab (he has been disowned by his family and country) who was fleeing in a car. Armed with a lathi (yes), he held on to him till his colleagues came to take charge of him. He also ensured Kasab's AK-47 was resolutely pointed towards him so that he took all the bullets instead of his colleagues.
Now, here's what CNN-IBN did on December 31: It started with a tribute to Karkare, Kamte and Salaskar and then generally talked about the heroic action of Ombale's colleagues who caught that b****** alive. It was these cops who mentioned Ombale's sacrifice. For the channel, Ombale was just one of them.
Wake up, guys!!
Second, I had written two columns - one in September and one in October -- in Mail Today on how we may have to pay a heavy price if we neglect coastal security. In November, we did. I have seen up, close and upfront how chief minister Vilasrao Deshmukh cockily ignored all warnings, alerts, intercepts on a threat from the sea. There were specific inputs about the threat to not just Taj, Oberoi and CST but also Cafe Leopold. But who cares? All will be forgiven and forgotten by the time elections approach and he may well be sitting on the CM's chair while Congressis applaud on the streets with band baaja.
My points is we need to start caring--for our sake. We need an apparatus in place that demands answers, keeps track of security requirements and keeps a close vigil on the shifty politicians in power.
Third, intelligence inputs have to be respected. Even if nine out of ten are general or ineffective, we cannot ignore them. How much would it have cost the authorities to scan Leopold, organise a watch on people going in and out for a while at the very least? But that particular input, I am told, went right into the dust bin and is currently untraceable at the receiver's end.
Time we took a break from work and got to work for ourselves.
Of course, we shed tears for Karkare, Kamte and Salaskar (always in that order) and ah, Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan, and then some others such as a certain Tukaram Ombale. We pledged to make their families flush with funds, and we did.
Now that we're done, we have to get back to our lives. Isn't that what they died for? as someone said. Sure, we cant mourn them forever. Let's cruelly leave that for their families. But I think it's our responsibility to ensure such sacrifices don't have to be made again. Or worse, that we should not have to pay with our lives as well the next time round.
Let's start with recognising Tukaram Ombale's sacrifice as far greater than others. Let's get him a Param Vir Chakra, or any award specially invented for him for what he's done is unparalleled in the world. Catch a terrorist alive. He rushed towards that b****** Kasab (he has been disowned by his family and country) who was fleeing in a car. Armed with a lathi (yes), he held on to him till his colleagues came to take charge of him. He also ensured Kasab's AK-47 was resolutely pointed towards him so that he took all the bullets instead of his colleagues.
Now, here's what CNN-IBN did on December 31: It started with a tribute to Karkare, Kamte and Salaskar and then generally talked about the heroic action of Ombale's colleagues who caught that b****** alive. It was these cops who mentioned Ombale's sacrifice. For the channel, Ombale was just one of them.
Wake up, guys!!
Second, I had written two columns - one in September and one in October -- in Mail Today on how we may have to pay a heavy price if we neglect coastal security. In November, we did. I have seen up, close and upfront how chief minister Vilasrao Deshmukh cockily ignored all warnings, alerts, intercepts on a threat from the sea. There were specific inputs about the threat to not just Taj, Oberoi and CST but also Cafe Leopold. But who cares? All will be forgiven and forgotten by the time elections approach and he may well be sitting on the CM's chair while Congressis applaud on the streets with band baaja.
My points is we need to start caring--for our sake. We need an apparatus in place that demands answers, keeps track of security requirements and keeps a close vigil on the shifty politicians in power.
Third, intelligence inputs have to be respected. Even if nine out of ten are general or ineffective, we cannot ignore them. How much would it have cost the authorities to scan Leopold, organise a watch on people going in and out for a while at the very least? But that particular input, I am told, went right into the dust bin and is currently untraceable at the receiver's end.
Time we took a break from work and got to work for ourselves.
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