The dragon may burn itself out!

There is every possibility that China may go old Soviet way. Its impressive strides at the economic, scientific and military levels are being relentlessly fuelled by a collective national hoopla about mythical-level enemies in the outside world. It thrives on the mass hysteria of the nationhood and prevails over the shadowy undercurrent of well-managed antagonism to the prevalent system of powers in the world. Education is used to legitimize the collective insecurities against the backdrop of colonial facts of exploitation. Under such environment people get ready to sacrifice individual freedoms and profits to bask in the glory of more sophisticated weapons, more medals at international sports meets, more upswing in the graph of economy and trade, etc. But sorry to say, it cannot be sustained for a decent amount of decades. 

The power of such dazzling rocket may impressively blind the eyes of supposed antagonistic outsiders, but the fuel in such a policy is not sufficient to land you in the stable geosynchronous orbit where the nation and its people will just effortlessly swim in peace and contentment. Hyper-specified distinctions as a race, as a nation cannot thrive unchallenged for too long in the ultramodern society. It somehow comes into conflict with the natural process of globalization and integration. America is comfortably enjoying the superpower status for a long time. The reason is that the stormy drive towards massive achievements in different domains was not at the cost of individual freedom. Unlike China here the river of basic human freedoms was not tamed through check-dams of politburo to harness human energy. Here it has always been allowed to flow decently free. The collective paranoia required to boost the rocket of superpower status was provided by the Soviet rivalry. 

The Soviet rocket, on the other hand, fell a bit short of the desired orbit of stability and crashed. In technology they matched each other shoulder to shoulder, step in step. The extra fuel in the American rocket was provided by the deep murmurs of individual freedom in the common hearts of common Americans. It somehow provides stability; creates a sort of pedestal on which the results of super-rivalry can be enjoyed for a relatively longer period of time. China's fastly rising balloon may also crashland. How can we ignore that behind each firm statistics in its achievement book, there are many statutes that strictly curtail basic human freedom. People will digest this as long as they are overfed with the diet of hate against a common, much vilified enemy. As the participants in this slowly smouldering cold war they think that they play a part by sacrificing a bit more due to some more rules. But after basking in the collective glory for decades, they will turn their heads back and analyse the sacrifices across generations. 

It turns counterproductive. The sea of collective victory cannot sustain unless it is fed through the sinewy rivulets of small-small basic freedoms and enjoyments that create outlets for common individuals to shine and feel victorious at the individual level as well. So this rising disparity between the verticals of its national glories at the international level on the one hand and the stagnant graph of political reforms may turn the table upside down, like it did informer Russia.

Douse First the Agni in Hungry Abdomens

Missiles are good. They might never be used. But their deterrence factor is acceptable. So all the best for the launch of Agni-V! But before we think of confidently hitting targets beyond 5000 kms, it is better if we spot the targets tugging at our shirts from all directions. This is the country where millions go hungry every day. Tragically, the FCI godowns are yearlong overfed with millions of surplus wheat. This wheat rots in rain under open skies. The governmental machinery finds it impossible even to distribute it. Damn it, what type of economy is this! Or the government finds even the weather elements and invisible bacteria as equal citizens of this country and keeps so much of wheat to be destroyed by them. It is fine to shoot majestic rockets to make your presence felt across globe, but it is also human to be true to your citizens by at least ensuring two meals a day. Moving ahead on the next stage of ICBM technology will require billions of dollars and technical expertise. But simply distributing the rottening grains in FCI shelters does not require the inputs of that order. It is a simple act driven by genuine concern for your fellow human beings. This extra farm produce can be made a productive part of our campaign against hunger and poverty. If the government cannot do even that, it is better to throw it to stray cows and pigs. It will serve some purpose of dousing the fire in some abdomen. Animal or human does not matter, because millions of humans in this great country enjoy the same status as stray cattle. They lie, walk, feed, defecate, procreate and die on roadsides.

Broken Dreams

It is the time to rethink. Rethink at the collective level. The time is ripe. Any educated Indian will accept that the Republic has been mismanaged terribly. Overflowing wealth in Swiss accounts bears testimony to this. If we compare the wealth amassed in dubious foreign accounts in independent India with the wealth drain during the colonial regime, I am afraid there might not be much difference between the two figures. The only consolation we can draw is that instead of the White man it is the Brown man who is doing the same chores of plunder.

The question arises: Whom to blame? Even with a pinch of salt, majority of us will agree that the kind of political ruling class and culture that emerged after Independence is more or less sired by Congress. As the juggernaut that fetched us freedom, it occupied a holy, absolute and unquestionable status. Dreamy-eyed Indians don’t question the illogical circumstances developing in their lives. They still worship their deities. Congress was a deity. Unfortunately public service rarely comes out of the bum feeling the warmth of divinity perpetually carpeting the throne. So for terms after terms people paid homage to Devi Congress by voting in its favor. But the religious trusts are rarely managed well by the priests.

The lesser genies are just the offshoots of the same colonial hangover traces like absolute power, milking the public resources for enlarging self-interests, using public authority to cut down any wind for change, family raj, etc. When non-Congress politicians amass wealth to lay a solid footing for dynasty-raj in their territories, they are just taking a logical and justified clue from the rulebook of the first political family in the country. It is tragic for the democracy. When as a legislator you lose sight of the constitutional objectives and responsibilities of public service for the masses and instead focus on establishing your lineage on the throne, then all the golden lines that were framed with dreamy eyes in the lengthy sessions of the Constituent Assembly take a backseat and become strings to a farcical puppet show of money, power and vagabondage.

Indian democracy is supposedly evolving healthily. But in reality it has been a malnutritioned and unhealthy baby. Where is the political choice at the national level? Literally every Indian is using bad words for the UPA government. There are not too many praisers of the BJP either. What will people do? A fractured mandate is a real possibility. The regional dynasty-rule-lorn satraps will enjoy the hotch-potch poultice brimming up in Delhi. Over-eaten Congressites will happily welcome a break after this blatant gluttony of public resources for a decade during its latest innings at amassing wealth. The Yuvraj will go sight-seeing tours relaxed and visit Dalit homes and try to find out the taste in the famed dal-roti of India. Maharani will give more focus to her Hindi accent. BJP is trying to see beyond Lal Krishna Advani. Its house in disarray, how much it can cash on popular disgruntledness is still in doubt. Maulana Mulayam plays his cards well and always sees the throne in Delhi a distinctly achievable target. Mayavati is happy to rally all the historically mistreated dalits behind her and make them believe that merely voting for a dalit and showing the index finger to upper-caste candidates means the Buddha-sent justice for them.

The question is: How long the educated middle class in India will continue with its famed apathy and allow the present kind of ruling establishment to thrive at the cost of common good. The popularity of Civil Society Movement provided some glimmer of hope. But how long can a movement survive and sustain while harping from the clean pedestal of morally clean apolitical carpet? How can you fight evil politicians without jumping into the political cauldron? It is like hunting a lion with sling-shots. For an effective fight it has to be inside the political cage only: a hand to hand real fight. But the moment they try to do it, even their supporters point fingers in admonishments that they appear just lesser dirty politicians in this avatar.

The main problem lies with the kind of political machinery that has taken the driving seat in the wagon of Indian constitutionality. So the main fight is there only. As far as Civil Society Movement is concerned, we can do them a favour--clap when they take mud-shots at the so-called starched khadi wears by fighting with as much political force as possible. In the looming directionless scenario, I think this is the need of the time. Who knows this extra hand will come with a pleasant surprise. So Ramdev, Anna Saheb & Company, the soon-to-retire General and many others should be encouraged to take to as much politics in their movement as possible. At least politics played by educated middle class will be better than the one played by people like the buffoon from Bihar.

Jats

Yours truly comes from the Jat stock. Arms working quicker than brain, culture being the agriculture, government services generally meaning police and military—well these are some of the fundamental traits of Jats. Oh just forgot the Haryanvi dialect that literally sums up the Jat attitude of being on top of this world in wisdom, knowledge, strength, stamina, guts, looks, sacrifice, etc., etc. There is one more historical element that qualifies as the defining element in the proud definition of being a Jat: our love for water buffaloes. Even a historian during the time of Alexander the Great notified that ‘these (Jats) people have a special affection for water buffaloes. I do not feel the pinch when some bruised city vallahas call we guys as ‘buffalo minds’ from the ‘buffalo land’. That’s true at least literally. Now coming to the time-tested fact of our love for water buffaloes! Sometimes back my mother sold her buffalo to a tough farmer. Now this one had been brought up by my mom like her daughter. Pampered to the hilt I tell you. But then taking care of this pampered one, whose requirements were seriously reaching human levels, was proving to be too tiresome for her. Now this rough and rowdy farmer was famous as the number one wife-beater in the village. While handing over the rope to this work brute, my teary-eyed mom said, ‘Son, hope you won’t mistreat this gudiya of mine!' 'I never beat buffaloes.....', prompt came the reply, 'I just.....', he stopped a bit embarrassed. He just stopped himself from saying that he beat his wife only. Well that shows our respect for the animal. You can say it is more or less equal to our womenfolk. The menfolk are male buffaloes anyway!

Acidified Roses

Flower buds are soft and lovely. Children are still softer. We call them the future of a country. This expectation derives from family, social and institutional support that is to be given to these human buds to enable them blossom fully. A kid's palms are very soft. They are not allowed to become coarse. Elders use their leathery knuckles and stony palms to allow fine maps on kid's palms so that they grow up as successful, happy individuals. But there are kids who are yoked into the merciless grind of survival game right from the beginning. They earn for themselves. These human buds do not get the time to blossom fully before becoming the fully functional part of the productive society. Their palms are never at ease to allow fine lines to evolve for a happy future. The lines get cut by the razor sharp edges of harsh reality they tread upon on a daily basis. On an impersonally honking and noisy crossing in Delhi, two kids pulled their heavily laden rickshaw out of the traffic mess. Horns blared. Getting-late-to-office elders threw curses. Traffic policeman even gave stares as if they had broken all the rules in his rulebook. Unconcerned they just expertly managed the odds heavily stacked against them by this uncaring world. There was no kiddish strain on their faces. These two boy-men cared a damn about the situation getting worse around them. They tended for themselves. I do not think we have any right to nurture any expectation from them as adults. Society and institutions have not given them anything. These have just robbed them of their childhood. Equipped with stony experiences and needle sharp instances, these kids have the right to draw any damn line on their palms. They reserve every right to cock-a-snook at the so called civilized and rule-based society. By killing a childhood, the society loses its right to lay claim on the desired, suitable adulthood.

Indian Army Shows Concerns

So the spineless UPA government is  trying its best to play down the issue of Indian military units suddenly moving to Delhi on 16-17 January this year. As we all remember it was the day when General V.K. Singh filed a petition in the Supreme Court regarding his age controversy. Anything could have happened. A lesser soldier, like most of his predecessors (semi-politician men of arms), would have been easily cowed down by the Defense Ministry. But the corrupt horde was against a real soldier this time. It has been an irony in this country that Indian defense forces have sacrificed so much across the volatile borders, meanwhile the larger enemies got ingrained almost legally within the constitutional machinery of the state and raped public confidence.

The way things were allowed to go astray during the UPA misrule, it was no surprise that Civil Society took the battle march against the enemies of the state. How long can you expect that army-men will continue to shed blood for the enemy outside while leaving a free ground for the goons in khadi to plunder mother India. Whatever that has happened during General V.K. Singh's term as the Indian military chief cannot be confined within strictly the date of birth controversy. It is a symbol of larger meanings. We can logically surmise that Indian army has started to understand the extent of harm done by the civilian government. For too long Indian army was pampered exclusively in an abstract zone: a zone where corruption, nepotism and the all the corrupt versions of civilian political scoundrel-ship were freely allowed to thrive by the Defense Ministry. Meanwhile it was stage-managed that the posts above Colonel were made more or less political in nature. These above-Colonel semi-politician-semi-military men acquiesced all the mucking game going inside and outside the army's domain. Then came General V.K. Singh! He understood the definition of state enemy in its appropriate dimensions. i.e., both outside and inside the state. So all the problems started with this understanding only. I think its a healthy precedent that one of the mighty constituents of  Indian State is asserting its place as a counterpoise to other wings of the state. The theoretical fools of democracy may give more task to their tongues by forecasting PAKISTAN LIKE army takeover in future, but it at least should send a clear signal to the corrupt civilian government that it can no longer take the support of army for granted like before. As far as the General in concerned, he has a lot to offer as a true Indian in his Civilian innings after May 31, 2012. God Bless Him!        

Rebels are in the Chambal Ravines; Dacoits are in the Parliament!

Arvind Kejriwal is sued for insulting Parliament. This is the tragedy of Indian jurisprudence. It allows the big fishes to escape the net and get elected to Parliament. Then they rape the system but pay lip service to Indian constitutionality by praising its loftiness. Their actions are, however, never interpreted to mean the insult of Parliament. Words ... mere words are sufficient to prove their credentials of clean citizens of India who keep up the honour of Indian Parliament. On the other hand is our Kejriwal whose each and every action pays homage to the rule of law, justice and honesty in the country. But his true words make him a culprit under the Indian law. Nonetheless, Civil Society is a force to reckon with now. All the thugs, scoundrels and rich ruffians who always look forward to a rich political innings have to rethink their plans now. Already the buffoon of Bihar, the rascal swindler who amassed 28,500 Crore in Swiss accounts over two decades, has been left to digest the fodder he has eaten so long. The idiot be fooled the hard-working Biharis by playacting the common man and plundered the mineral rich state for two decades. Many villages in Bihar, meanwhile, just knew that light meant Sun and lalten. There was no electricity in villages. 'It’s a city thing,' they accepted the hard reality in Lalu-accent. Now Nitish Kumar shows that there can be other angles to governance as well and I have seen the shades of pride and confidence on the faces of many talented Biharwallas. The system which allows such thuggery will accept you as long as you pay lip service and will condemn you the moment you open your mouth. But actions of Mr. Arvind Kejriwal are pure enough to give him a clean chit in the Lok Adalat. Why care about the Parliamentary fools! One more thing: the Parliament and Constitution are for the people of India not the other way around. We gave the right to certain individuals to frame them as per our aspirations. Now if we the common masses are making noises for a change then why these plundering rascals are finding it unlawful? Just incorporate the common man's wishes. That’s all! Our Civil Society representatives hold the right to call a 'shit' a 'shit'. How long they will force us to call it 'sweetmeat'!

The Outer Core

All of us carry an aura around us. It comprises an electro-magnetic field born of the flow of the life energy through and around our bodies. The quality of this aura is a function of our mental, physical and emotional states. Anger, regret, fear, jealousy, desperation, sorrow, rejection and hopelessness create a sort of negative energy and consequently a negative aura. It means we carry bad aura. It pollutes the surrounding environment like a heal of garbage. Now isn’t it our bounden duty to keep the environment clean by remaining positive, happy, smiling, poised, relaxed, sympathetic and compassionate? Its our duty fella! Its as good for others health as it is for our own. All the steps to the cleaning of all types of pollutants start from the self. Stay happy. Just by doing this we do a social service.

Congressite Smokescreen

I draw a certain constitutional right—A logical and self-derived right of an educated Indian to reinterpret Indian history within logical limits. I just do the same and do not mean anything derogatory to the characters who as per conventional interpretations managed to fetch the center-stage in the Indian freedom movement. Definitely, the Britishers had far more control over Congress affairs than average Indian believes because for him it symbolizes the very epitome of human urge for freedom. But could it be possible that the Congress leadership in pre-independent India was well controlled by the Britishers with an acceptance that since ultimately they have to go out of this country, it is best to have a buffer zone of leadership drawn from English-educated, foreign-returned gentry who will both save them from a revolutionary outpour as well as provide a controlled leadership to the ignorant Indian masses. Beginning with the first decade of 20th century, revolutionary terrorism was becoming a force to reckon with. Lok Manya Tilak was proudly claiming, 'Swarajya is my birth right!' Then the First World War came. Britishers were just not in a position to afford non-cooperation at the Indian front. See Mahatma Gandhi arrived swiftly on the scene and very soon all questions of Indian cooperation in British war efforts were settled. In a short span of time Indian soldiers were fighting at North African front. The Britishers had scores of reasons for pampering Gandhi-Nehru as they had for brutally suppressing and exterminating heroes like Bhagat Singh and sidelining Subhash Chander Bose. The prevailing philosophy of non-violence during the freedom movement was more helpful for the Britishers in every sense of the term. The ideal just minimized the chances of a popular upsurge (of 1857kind) against the White regime. This ideology however failed in stopping the bloodshed among Indians. See the farce: 1 million Indians died among themselves and the casualties to the outgoing regime were negligent (almost non-existent)!It was a smart move. Analyse the sprouts of those seeds of Western facilitation sown during those times and you will see the Colonial strains still blossoming in the skewed political stream of so called ‘Free India’.

Princilpeless Politics

You know why the UPA government has managed to survive the grisly tantrums of coalition politics? Simple: It has no democratic principle, ethos, morality and specific guidelines of political righteousness. The only principle it follows is just sticking to power at whatever cost. Be it allowing ministers from the coalition partners to plunder the country through scams like 2G Spectrum and Common Wealth Games or disgracing its own railway minister by rolling back the budgetary provisions just after the railway budget, the UPA just sticks to power like a dirty fly in bazaar hallucinated by the saccharine aura of cheap sweetmeats. And now they eat their cake and have it as well. It is no secret to what extent the top-boss in India helped the Sri Lankan army to wipe out the culprit Prabhakaran. It was a sweet revenge--and may be justifiably so given the sanctimony of human relationships and cause of justice for the victim. But now that very action is condemned at the UNHRC meeting to again appease the viruses of coalition politics, i.e., India has condemned the military action and violation of human rights in the events leading to the decimation of Prabhakaran who was eagerly following the polling scenario in India while bombs (many of them sent as avenging gifts from the bigger neighbour) burst around him. The gorilla leader was hoping for a government change in India and hence the possible lessening of heat from the Indian side. But fate had decided otherwise. While the LTTE leader awaited the declaration of Indian parliamentary results and the war zone came to be dangerously confined to bullet shot range around him, the UPA again came to power unexpectedly thus closing all his hopes. It was a typical Hindi movie end. Well, you guys can just imagine why and how all this happened.

Brown Jugaris

As Indians we need to learn that sometimes sticking to some more feasible (and more Indian sounding) means and mechanisms does not essentially indicate the signs of a poor, third world country. We just need to come out of this age-old British Raj habit that anything said, done,contrived or any product, service or technology do not necessarily become the reference scale for excellence to provide our own stuff with relatively poor marks. 

Western toilet seats are great! They serve a great purpose in countries where the people to loos ratio is pleasantly equal to 1:1. You use your utility and any unbecoming fallouts are still digestible because its more or less personal like your underwear. But in India,a single loo bears the burnt of so many gastronomical furies as would not be suffered by the combined total of a whole Western settlement. Still the Indian way served its purpose as well. Now coming to the grafting of Western loo concept in India. Big families, big offices, big crowds at public toilets in malls, cinemas and elsewhere make it nightmarish even for No.1 type, forget about putting your ass down for No. 2. And if the urgency forces you, its just like perching upon somebody's great work just seconds ago. But putting our asses to so many eager bacteria and viruses we draw solace in the fact that we are doing it in the Western way. 

Another example is the poorly creaking state of new Greenline buses in Delhi. It is modeled on the Western kind of public transport: smart, sleek, used by just as many passengers as wont even fill up all the seats even during the rush hours; and last but not the least meant for malai jaisa roads for best jerkless rides. Now here is the concept dumped in India: the poor thing travels sluggishly with thrice or fourth of its carrying capacity; its low floorboards hitting the road while it jumps painfully over potholes; technically inefficient DTC staff not having any clue whenever the poor thing runs into troubles. During the old days, the drivers were half-mechanics and sorted out most of the problems themselves. We have to accept that we Indians are jugaris (contrivers): the jugglers and contrivers who muggle up various unrelated elements to meet and resolve uncountable, ever-opening problems and issues. And this trait has seen the Indian elephant slugger ahead slowly but steadily on the path of growth. If we just graft the Western concepts outlandishly and slavishly we will just put our asses to risks. 

Materialism is Cool

Web of bondage! It has been a great topic of discussion between the materialists and spiritualists. Much as the spiritual guys will crib and advise against mankind's fruitless run after the so called 'physical fruits of bondage', the materialists on their part do have apparently justified arguments of this being the logical conclusion of the very story of our evolution and growth. With my limited perceptions, I look at the physical world as a sort of cozy room sheltering you from bad weather elements--your den that closes your being and gives it a physical identity. If the spiritualists call it a web of bondage which stops my soul shooting off into the hitherto undefined cosmos, then I am pretty much comfortable with this. Deprived of all the physical confines around me, I will just feel like a tiny speck open to the infinite risks looming around in only God knows what directions. My room, my set of comforts gives me a direction. I am pretty comfortable with that. I am its maker. It gives me a sense of pride for creating something out of nothing. Yes I do see through its windows that there is a larger meaning beyond the self-derived confines of the walls of my room. The feeble, but steady, light of faith tells and ensures me at least this much. But I am a human being. And pretty much in love with my identity and roof. If the spiritualists take pot-shots at me, I can just give them one humble and practical promise--I will try to raise the ceilings of my room to allow more of space of which they are so possessive. But I will retain the cozy confines of my room, my material bondage. Because that is being human! Its good to be materialistic as long as my soul can take comfortable slumber in my room; as long as I do not steal from others’ rooms; as long as I do not throw mudslings at others' rooms. One more logic, how can I walk the tightrope to infinity in the cosmic womb, unless I steady myself at a point with the bamboo of the physical fruits of my labour? It’s just like traveling in your car. The journey might be into the unchartered corridors of space, but you need a shelter, a roof. I am happy with the materialistic room around me. It defines this phase of my evolution. Without it I will be lost.

Rallying the poor

The Prince was furtively rallying the poor and destitute in U.P. For a moment it became probable that Indians will once again rally blindfolded behind his regal aura. And for good reasons! After all we have been such nice, gentle, almost non-challenging followers for the last millennium. The results in Uttar Pradesh, however, show some light at the end of tunnel. The mute masses in India are now slowly rising to their own feet to chart out their own courses. These might be the struggling initial steps like toddlers, but will surely translate into calculated, purposeful and independent walks to well-set destinations. The democracy in India may come to age after the hopeless six decades since Independence. Well, Yuvraj (the mightily beneficent Brahmin) blessed huts after huts of Dalits! But surprise, poor people understand the politics behind it. So they won’t faint of delirium and ecstasy at the touch of his rich slippers on their mud floors. For too long they have rallied behind the clarion call of the Panja (the Congress 'hand' as they call it). Surprisingly, they called the hand as 'panja', i.e., the claw. 'It will hold the rich and upper castes by throat and make their lives better', they digested their horrible tales in free India with this optimistic thought for six decades. Now but they realize that this is in fact the hand that has been spanking their bums, making them dance to hopeless winds from all directions. You need not waste your time to appease them anymore Yuvraj! They have more approachable, more earthy messiahs. Maya is there! Mulayam is there.Where the 'panja' goes now! Devoid of traditional low-caste votes, it might now become the ferocious agent of communalism in the country. Muslim appeasement fella! Congress might be 127 year old, but its penchant for swaying the conscience of masses still survives. Gandhi wanted its safe and respectful cremation. But it denied to be laid to rest. The mutations in it are strong enough to undo all the natural laws that ordain the death of all physical and biological phenomena through birth, youth, old age and death. Let us see what are the policies adopted by the oldie now!

Politics and Anna

Either it was stage-managed or happened due to natural causes, but Anna sahib's suddenly aggravated health problems mean that the possibility of Civil Society leaving some dent on the prospects of certain political parties, largely Congress, are ruled out for the time being. Mind you, it is the same great old man who braved the heat and humidity during North Indian summers for 13 days and still came out hale and hearty and in high spirits to promise to undo Congress' interests in assembly elections across India. The sudden deterioration in his health, and some skeptical talk of intentional wrong diagnosis and treatment, force a habitual cribber like me to inculcate some concerns about the human hand in all this. So while the sleaze and swindlery unfold in UP elections, the Civil Society lies sidelined in hospital. The Yuvraj and Princess have glamorized the gloomy scenario prevailing across the underdeveloped regions of the state where masses have been strategically kept in the same age-old poverty clutches so that they can just see as much as it is planned to show, majorly at the time of elections. Salman Khursheed talks of Muslim job reservation; Diggy Raja also takes jibes at anything smelling of Hinduism....This is communalism at its worst. Ironically, communalism in this country has come to be defined just as any insecure voice for the interests of the majority. While anything said and done to garner minority sympathy, and thus garner votes, becomes ineligible under the clauses of ‘communalism’ to stand out as an act of piety perfumed with all genuineness and goodwill. Mind you, under the objective clauses of the definition of 'communalism', Congress may qualify as the worst communal political branch in the country. Its pro-Muslim outpours are forcing the Hindu consciousness to be tilted towards BJP almost by default. Coming back to Anna Saheb and Civil Society, whether his health problems were natural or man-made, it is at least an opportunity for the movement to keep away from the political mud. He possesses the moral force and needs to invigorate it far away from the mucking political cauldron. Wish him good health! If the great man recovers to be capable of keeping fasts--his major force--then we can just hope for bigger movements. We should not forget, a morally clean and hospitalized Anna is far more effective in the long term than the semi-politicized version of the great man throwing mud-lumps at semi-goon politicians and getting smeared himself as well. He earned mass following through sheer moral force and integrity at all levels. He has done penance for it. It is a lofty pedestal. His penance will further take him vertically above and enlarge the aura behind the icon. He need not get into a hand-to-hand scuffle with the plunderers of this country. From his lofty moral throne he can breed energetic gangs of conscious citizens who will turn his vision into reality. Let us just pray for his coming back to health and regain the control of Civil Society movement.

Lion and Deer of the Social Jungle

Lion and Deer of the Social Jungle

Dharma of Social Jungle: The greatest punya of the social jungle is to protect one’s own interests at any cost.

Sin of the Social Jungle: Pap of the social jungle is to allow one’s own interests to be harmed under any obligation, duty or weakness arising out of the hypotheses of religion, morality, ethics or any other type of socio-religious injunction.  

Anti-socials, politicians, business magnates and others of their ilk are the social lions—a suitable personification of those fierce lions roaming in the jungles. Their ravenous appetite for power, perks and status needs and requires them to prey upon the poor weaklings, i.e., social deers. The social deer comprise the abject and still poorer personifications of those grass-grazing herds of deer in the jungle who just nibble at the grass blades; who are inherently weak products in the game of evolution. So the social deer are intrinsically weak and churn out virtues of the lameness and moralist talk, by creating the great facades of evil and sin (these are mere hypothesis), constructing the majestic and disillusioned citadel of religion and ethics—the fearful songs of the escaping and the fleeting hordes of masses.

All this also boils down to the question of being practical or impractical. As simple as that! If somebody is brave enough to defy the blinding hypotheses and naturally nurture his self interests at any cost then it is just a simple occurrence of a social lion. While the one who is constrained from following this duty to the self due to the weaknesses arising of physical, mental, social or family and compromises the real duty to the self, he then becomes the fodder to satisfy some lion’s appetite; becomes a mere inconsequential step in the staircase of somebody’s ascension to the peak of power and glory.

Judges—the so called upkeepers of justice on earth—are the most efficient and practical men (thus a fantastic breed of lion who are untamed and unchecked in any manner. At every step of the ladder of dispensing justice, they have to pamper injustice just to reach higher and higher. The talk of justice is too idealist and impractical. The hypothesis of justice survives to act as a sort of opium for the masses. Practical judges very soon realize that the elements like integrity, honesty, morality, commitment to the so called virtues are no aids to one’s entry to heaven; rather in the field of social jungle they are simply the antonyms for armour, swords, shields and lancers to cut down the fellow self-interested fighters. Just imagine the fate of a soldier devoid of all these weapons! He is just there to fulfill the natural function of getting slayed. Our day to day social survival is simply a battle for protecting self-interests in which deepest, mostly invisible and sometimes blood-soaked, cuts are inflicted on fellow human beings.

Here is this social lion, all adorned with the impressive mane of justice and crowned with the duty to protect the deers! He is still hungry to ascend a few more steps on the social ladder. To become a bigger lion, he is simply required to eat more and more deer. And he has done exactly the same! Very cleanly, smirkly and without batting an eyelid! He smoothly feasted on 102 deer. The very same poor herd of weak, impotent, cowering, justice-lorn group that had pleadingly looked at his face for two years in the Court of Justice. The poor group always unaware that it was nothing but the morsel for the satisfaction of his gluttony. In one merciless stroke—as all practical steps must be to qualify for success—he ate 102 lambs and burped away to further glory with new, vigour, health and criminality (the most virtuous trait to become a bigger, stronger lion), to eat still fatter preys at the higher seat.

For full two years, these poor lambs had looked at his indifferent face seeking some tiniest trace of mercy. But how can a lion go against its nature? They never realized that the wise owl perched on the highchair found them just tiny frogs to be eaten to muster up more nocturnal hunting prowess. Suddenly, swiping away all the gibberish, hypothetical talk of the weaklings, and bravely bracing himself up with the tidings of war weapons, he gave smart piece of winsome battle skills and mowed down all those disillusioned fools and weaklings who had come running to his cave, seeking life where only death had all the business to do. So to escape from one line they landed up in the den of another lion. And lions will be lions. If sheep run from one den to another, then it saves energy for the lions as well. So the Assembly of this lion, amply proving its status of being the regal court of the mighty canines, just sanctioned the luncheon of the grassy subjects under its domain. The King lion just proved his ruling status—an able commander of a still mightier Lioness eating still tastier livers in the higher capital. Her Highness, the top-most lioness, has longer teeth to taste even the mane-covered flesh of these lesser lions.

Jungle lions fight to keep their territories and the bunch of female cats. Social lions, especially the political social lions, are pitched against a tougher task. But they have far more chickened humanity to lunch upon and then wage the battle.

While the bull fight it out for the higher stakes, the grass tufts at their feet get inevitably trampled and mowed down and mix in the dust of nothingness and ignominy. Similarly, this group of 102 hardworking lambs, always pleading that it will be of great Civil Service to the lion got trampled upon.

The advisers and soothsayer rushed to preach that still there was a mightier den with stronger lion to get the injustice undone. But they forget that mightier lions perched upon still higher seats are still more efficient hunters. After all they rose through the same battle. Even if they unnaturally have some pity for the battered, bruised and blood-soaked horde and say ‘Mercy grated!’, then that will still rub chilly on some lonely conscience left out in the joint humiliation. What is the use of reaching the spring of justice if every step on the path forces you to forget the fundamentals of your life, the very sinews that grew with you? You just become identity-less. It is just like peeling off one’s own kin. What is the use of getting justice if on availing it—if one is lucky to avail it after all—you turn blind and spiritless by the time you are shown the make-believe fruit?                        

Was our freedom movement as free as we think it to be?

Colonists who had the power and efficiency to rule and exploit the

lands thousands of miles away from their homes cannot be supposed not

to possess anything about the exit strategies. With the beginning of

20th century, it was written on the wall that the coming decades of

the century will see the cascading effects of freedom movements. As

great managers they started planning exit strategies. This strategy

was meant to minimize the losses at their end and leaving the least

ill-will. So amidst all the freedom movements that were naturally

evolving, they facilitated the platforms that best suited their

interests in the post-independence scenario. They were ruthless

against the true nationalists who were branded as terrorists. They

were wiped out literally. Thousands were sent to Kala Pani in India in

this context. Now do you understand why Bhagat Singh was allowed to be

hanged? Why was Subhas Chander Bose kicked out of the mainstream

freedom movement even though his confidante was legitimately elected Congress

president? Why more efficient Congressites like Sardar Patel remained

in the shadow of Nehru? Simple fact is that the Britishers were

cleverly facilitating a Western-educated class of leaders who were 75

percent Westerners and would be the safest options during the critical

decades before and after the Independence. It was a well-managed

transfer of power. It was a well-managed first ring of

Western-educated leadership that did not allow the real black, native

nationalist of India to take the hot seat of the freedom movement and

the chair after independence. Just see the decades after independence

and you will realize the great undercurrent of British in particular

(and Western in general) facilitation profitably flowing under the so

called native black river of independence.

Legitimate Tears

When your dreams lie shattered around you, do not cry. If you do that you do injustice in more than one sense of the term. One simple mathematical fact: Shedding tears would not help in anyway. Understood that there are scattered pieces of the diamonds you had been working on. Now they are broken, sharp and may cut through flesh if you just close your eyes and prefer to cry. Kids have a copyright over crying and rightly so. We elders can spare this copyright infringement. Just look around the dashed diamonds, your so called broken dreams. Just see the glimmer in still shapely left out pieces. The dream is the soul; it just cannot die if some hammer momentarily dislodges its outer shape. No hammer in the world has the luck to kiss the soul of your dream. Its always safe. That’s its fate. Simply. Plainly. Why cry if the thing has not died. If you do, its just like mourning the death of someone who is still alive. I think we can simply avoid this irrational act. Broken shards of your dreams are, let us say, the blood-thirsty and hard chisels. They can help you in cutting through such mighty rocks as you could have never imagined. So it is simply better to cut bigger rocks for larger prospects instead of allowing the pieces to cut through your physical and mental selves.

Storms

Storms are storms. Just storms. Nothing else. They do not have much to offer both to nature and humans. They swirl, shriek, shake and prance occupied by an illogical spirit. It is just like nature throwing tantrums. But tantrums are never substantial man; they are just a fragile symbol of something going out of loop for some moments. Look at nature, storms are just temporary, tiny speed-breakers on its peacefully laid out benevolent road of survival, sustenance and evolution. It applies to our lives as well. So when the ship of our being gets jolted by the angry winds just remember this is not the substance of your life. It lies in miles of peaceful, dreamy and majestic waters waiting to kiss the hull of your ship. Coming back to the poor storm. It is just a puny piece of funny quirkiness possessed with suicidal and self-consuming dispirited and rampant self. It dances in pain. While it fizzes and fumes, it burns in its own fire. It dies. While its cremation takes place just be a good pyre-keeper and fulfill all the rights diligently. But keep a safe distance from the fire. It is sure to die. And, more importantly, you are sure to survive to see the flowers blossoming in that very dead ash. So please believe in peace, in tranquility, in harmony, in noiseless distances waiting for you while you feel the heat of the burning aberration. Be a spectator. Be a valiant survivor. Do it for the sake of normal, undisturbed nautical miles lined up to allow the passage of your ship to a lush green island of your destination, where you can drop anchor and enjoy the stillness of life for sometime. It has to be done. Because the course of normalcy is self-sustaining, kind, beneficent, forgiving and parental. The storm just burns in its fury. Allow it to do it. Harmony, orderliness and tranquility draw life-giving sips from their own substance, from the core of their own essence. So be a good businessman. Join the latter's’ bandwagon. For you own gain.

Congress Vs. Anna

Congress has derailed Anna movement to a great extent. The old hag of a party! The party and its handlers are too clever, witty and power-lorn to be outsmarted by the social worker. Anna's movement jolted it, to begin with. It was a social movement, a mass movement. Blatant corruption and nepotism had left big scars on the conscience of well-to-do middle and upper middle class of India. Fortunately these literal scars were equal, if not bigger, to the real scars of the poor masses, the aam admi who gave the Honourable Italian-born iron lady a decade to wield all powers without any responsibilities. And what did they do? They just redefined the contours of coalition politics in almost criminal manner. Shared interest policy became just a policy of blindfolding the conscience and constitutionality to allow the allies and cronies to amass as much wealth as possible. They just eyed successful completion of a full term. But at what cost? Who paid the cost? We did it man! We the struggling and toiling masses of India, silently and law-abidingly continued to add to our struggle to match the horribly rising monthly budgets. On the other end of the tunnel, our political akaas just stashed the money of our labour in Swiss accounts. It was an open secret. All of us knew what was going on. But what can a bread-earning bunch of frustrated souls do. It can just grumble. And we just grumbled till Anna gave a voice to all these harmless bickerings. Lo! The sinewy tributaries merged to form a tidal wave at Ramleela ground. It literally submerged the wrong-handlers of our well-meant parliamentary democracy. But Congress is Congress my dears! It will just stick to its ways. At any cost! Under public bombardment, the Congressites dodged, feigned nonchalance, pretended even concern; but all along the way they were up to a smart plan to change a mass social movement to a political one so that it loses its savioural social identity to become a big political gimmick like its own. They know that they can outsmart any group on the political platform. So poor Anna has been systematically dragged into the political arena where the fight is not going to be one-sided like earlier. There will be punches from both sides. Anna was fighting on a holy pedestal where even the semi-goons of Congress were afraid to take direct or indirect pot-shots. Now they have dragged him into a muddy field. The same familiar game. Best wishes Anna sahib! You are up for something new now! Good luck! But please do not feel disheartened by smaller numbers at the next chosen venue of your agitation because the sharp edge of typical tricky Congressite political wit has punctured the high-flying balloon of your ideology.

Salutes Delhi

Salutes Delhi! You are two-eyed. But they have different visions, different dreams, different destinations. One of your pan-shots swankily zooms on the glizz-nd-glamour of resurgent India. Whether it is right-eye pan-shot or left-eye, I do not know. But yes the other eye's camera shot pervasively covers the classic tragedies spread out in black and white. Its a grizzled, murky screen having classic comicities and tragedies spinning, whirring around the same axis. Its Muhharram today. Many a offices are closed. It just means you can drop your purse on the DTC bus floor and still left with a realistic chance of retrieving it. So at least you could see a fee feet around you. Great solace. The air too was not stuffed with guffaws let out by infected throats and lungs, disordered stomachs, cheap scents and Deos from Palika Bazaar and above all the usual individual and collective frustrations. See when TATA offered these buses (along with the kickbacks per piece and which was more important to our rampant governmentvallahs ) the real cost of the machine was just meant to carry this type of load. The festival load. Once in a time load when people do not travel on account of holidays or some other emergency.

On this observable stage a 14-year-old man-kid jumbled into the finally justified interiors of the poor green line. Boy he was the man! Carried a pole that would tower above the poor bus if their vertical components competed. He slanted it, his small hands manoeuvred it smartly and the camel was safely in the room. The pole was the dancing axis of so many types of cheapest kid toys as you might say can be afforded by the childhood mushrooming in slums. All fellow-riders watched him in half amuse and half irritation. Lampoons like yours truly even laughed at the free show. Anyways, coming back to this character valiantly playing its part in the grizzly black and white ever spooling movie. He rushed to the conductor seat after killing all the apprehensions and objections of the busvallaha about the pole falling and the kids-stuff getting a playground on their heads. The boy-entrepreneur got DTC day-pass costing 40 rupees. Man o man! How much this kid earned to afford the pass. Anyways that is none of our concern like most of the Delhi things should not be. One fact was inescapable: the well-meant boy was well-prepared for the day. The way he had tied the muffler, the way his cheap jacket was buttoned up to the collar, the way trouser well-fitted his thin legs and the way well-cleaned shoes purchased from the road-side hawker, all these portended a good successful business plan.

One problem with new DTC bus is that its door opens too invitingly with a hiss, as if it is specially inviting you for a joy-ride. Carried by the swift winds of one such invitation, an Advasi family raided the semi-occupied bus. The conductor baulked, 'Not without tickets you thieves!' 'Hutt you miser, we have money!' the black old lady draped in a big raggy blanket shouted. God knows how many of them were! It was a collectively lampoonish unit cocking a snook at the organized hordes of Delhi. One monkey-like infant immediately grabbed the hand-rails overhead and tried gymnastics. One of its hands also busted the balloon tied at the upper end of the toy pole. Both its owner and conductor shrieked painfully. So many raggish kids carried their unsuspecting selves to the empty seats and dumped the gypsy spirit for a while. Their neighbours almost vomited. A sleek lady carried a toddler on her shoulder, one infant in her lap and most probably the another one inside her as the glossy black bulge of her abdomen shone from the short kurti she was wearing above the gracious folds of a dirty long skirt. It just became a thoroughfare. The conductor fought for tickets. They stood their positions, gibberishly, savagely. And where were they going? Whole of NCR was their destination. It was just a matter of holding onto the ride till the fight with conductor acquired serious colours. And the moment it did, they just dumped themselves with the same teasing indecency like they had raided the bus and vanished from the scene. Delhi, salutes! You bear witness to the two movie-makings by the camera lenses in your eyes!