Homage to the Martyrs

While you go full throttle on weekend enjoyments, take a moment out to remember three martyrs who on this day decades ago kissed the noose of death with such love and affection that no pining pair of lips can ever match the selfless compassion behind the lock. 23 March, Sahid Divas of Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev!!! At each step we take liberty as granted. We see the signs of growth and prosperity for ourselves in all directions, we can go out and shout regarding the causes of our grudges, we can afford to be totally individualistic and still be counted as the best people around, we can afford to allow the greatest injustices right there before our eyes and still be counted as legally clean, we are even free to take socially permitted actions to cut down the freedom of our fellow citizen, we are free man!!! Free for the best and the worst. But they were not free. At each step they knew that their fates lay in outsiders' hands. Their spirit always felt the cold iron of fisticuffs. They knew one single step as a free man is far better than 100 miles travelled as a slave. Even if it meant cutting their lives in the nip, while their youth was blossoming like a spring rose. They had their sip of justice and freedom. For a larger cause they defied this strongest instinct of self-preservation. They found themselves defined by their identity as Indians, not just self-seeking Indians. They died for a vision. For freedom. Was it just from the colonial rule? No, it was a dream to set all individuals and Indians from the slaving chains inside, chains of narrow parochial means, of moral apathy, of criminal negligence of murderous assault on ones fellow human being, of blindness to self-evident acts of abuse, of saddest old eyes left on road looking at the Mercedes shooting away, of abused young women left on the roads to bear more and more criminalized behaviour by the people of the same species. As a homage to these martyrs, let us open our eyes and see the larger picture. At least be a bit more caring for the world around us. As free individuals we have to pay this nominal fee at least!!!!   

My Friend Peelu

Weekends in my village are sort of rejuvenating moments. These are fast changing times. But village and villagers still hold onto lot of so called outdated, traditional stuff which is both exciting and objectionable both at the same time.

There is this street dog named 'peelu' that is getting stronger on collective offals at various doorsteps. It belongs to all and to nobody at the same time. It will acknowledge your acquaintance by swaying its tail as you pass through the street and barks through night as the watchman of the area.

Yesterday I decided to have a stroll by the village pond and the loyal animal, its tail taut as a mark of respect and loyalty, followed me to this village-side bunch-grass and shrubbery dotting the pond's shoreline. There was this donkey, medium built and really docile looking, that caught my attention. A village is a village. I can recall so many moments from childhood when we had rides on donkey backs, held them by ears, sometimes three boys riding at the same time. Those reflections caught hold of me. There was this innocently rascal urge to hold this innocuous being by ears and go for a ride.

I tried to approach as harmlessly as possible. But just as my fingertips said hello to the animal's ears, it got unjustifiably offended. After all its the duty of a donkey to carry load man. But like most of us forgetting duties, it started flailing its legs in four directions. Panicked I took an evasive leap. This is where the dog decided to intervene from my side. Peelu, the carrier of this tag of being man's best friend from ancient times, gave a few more twists to the emblem of its bravery and loyalty, its tail, and attacked.

One simple fact: One should not reach the flailing range of a donkey legs from behind, even if you are a lion. The effort will award you with at least a broken jaw or rib. But then overzealous Peelu had to prove that he is worth all the chapattis that we offer him. These are bad times man. Loyalty fetches you many bruises and few trophies. The poor thing got a good shot in its flanks. The impact found it rolling on ground. Then boy O boy, all the ideological stuff out of its brain, it ran at unheard of speed, its tail between legs, and whining that sounded more cursing me rather than the donkey.

'Peelu you idiot, how can you leave a friend in lurch like this!' I felt like shouting from behind. But it had forgotten everything. Just vanished out of sight, From a distance I said sorry to the offended animal. Man these are the days of empowerment across species. Gone are the days of those rightless, mute, uncomplaining animals of the past who gave us some of the best moments of our childhood. 'Sorry boss, this craving to ride your back without your permission was illegal and you are within your rights to create repercussions of these sort!' I said from a distance. It snorted and gave me angry, offended looks. I increased the distance between us lest it should carry the notion of justice too far and set after me.

Back in the village I saw my run-away friend. It limped and walked with its tail free to hang in any direction. 'Peelu how are you!' I said. It did not mind me too much now. Just turned its head a bit in my direction and simply walked away as if was no longer interested in such risky friendships. 'But a friend in need is a friend indeed!' I thought of saying it loud and make it more bearable for him. But my friend was already out of sight. Bad days, very difficult to keep friendships alive.            

Pissable Parliament

This is the longest night! Our conscience frozen into an inhuman hibernation! In the frigid gloom, the devils shed bloods on the white snowy sheet of our social fabric. A painful cry echoes through the land of lifeless corpses! It pulls the dead bodies out of their quilted, warm graves and they swarm around the tombstone of the higher mortals’ graves, crying and shouting to awake them out of their perennial, impotent sleep!

Cold-smitten dates of the third week of December raise some hopes! Anna Movement, Kejriwal Movement, Ramdev Movement, all had a leader fighting for a common cause. The people gathered on Rajpath to march towards Rashtrapati Bhavan and Parliament House to shout at their indifferent red stone walls are not doing it for glory. They are driven by a mammoth shame; a collective feeling of guilt; they need an outlet to shed their share in the tragedy. These young boys and girls are no followers of some social-cause-conscious individual. Each and every individual braving cold water and police batons is a leader to himself/herself! It is not for media; it is not for a long plan of action for a dream future; it is no systematized stage show! It is simple; it is from heart; it is fought with a faceless, selfless bravery! These are bleeding hearts; carrying over the plight and pain of the girl fighting for life in hospital.Thousands shout her plight; thousands cry for justice. Caught in the jaws of death; her life torn apart by the very hands that could well have been solacing and brotherly, if the devil inside the perpetrators would have been aware of the word ‘sister’—she now has a reason to get a forgiving smile for these thousands of brothers and sisters crying for justice from her side.  

Thousands of young people throng the area around the citadel of power. Each and every member is a pioneer, a leader! It is a movement started by the leaders. Busy in petty house-hold chores, and guiltily watching it on TV, even in my most Hind-movie-driven heroic fancy, I could not visualize myself more than pissing on Parliament after somehow managing to sneak through the barricade. The beholder of such impotent law that allows such criminal acts against women, and that too one after another, in just its near vicinity does not deserve better treatment.

Forget about law, justice and government. People are foremost. A cause has to first jolt the courts in their hearts. We are responsible for this nasty assault on humanity. We have allowed things to culminate in such an inhuman tragedy. Thousands of cases of molestation in varying degrees pass on a daily basis as routine things. People allow them to occur; criminal apathy! This pandering of the smaller evils by the court of conscience in the thousands of spectators on the footbaths, crowded buses and metros and bazaars just leads to criminal loopholes at the administrative levels. First thing: If you are a good human being and theoretically shout ‘Capital Punishment to the rapists!’, you have to get eligibility to shout this slogan by at least taking a vow to interfere when some petty male molests a girl or women in any form or degree before your eyes. If the courts of humanity inside us will not allow thousands of such indecent things on a daily basis, the higher courts and administration will also not spare the evil-doers at bigger chronic stages.

We are the law! We hold the court inside our civilized hearts. Leave the bigger crime acts to judiciary. We, as the carriers of that tiny court of humanity inside us, can well afford to dispense justice from our own ends in street-side regular cases of violations of norms against women, by promptly condemning the criminal for the deed, to be followed by a few hard slaps to serve the cause of justice. The case has to be closed then and there and spare the over-burdened judiciary to continue settling thousands of self-evident ghastly crime acts that are pending for decades.

The latest incidence is not in abstract. It has come to hit the last nail in the coffin of women plight in Delhi to seal its fate to suffer and survive in fear and insecurity even in broad day light. Hundreds of such cases and incidences have been tonking at the courts of our conscience and the thick walls of governance for decades. It has been caused by a bigger criminal act by all: individuals, society, government, police and judiciary. Delhi is being run by an experienced old lady for a decade and half. If the intensity of crime against women is getting sharper teeth to tear the moral fabric to pieces, then shame should be painted on Her face if ever her inner voice gives her some credit for being a successful administrator! India is being handled in proxy by another lady for a decade. It is high time that she feels finally like a woman and not like a mechanically principled Nehru family princess thinking 365x24x7 just about retaining the political clout of the family to ultimately install Yuvraj as the King of India.

This country is not short of those bookish theologians who will drag you into the psychology of crime to prove the ineffectivity of capital punishment. To be hell with such idiots and put their analytical brains in boiling oil and feed to the rapists in jails who fatten themselves on our public money. Capital punishment serves its purpose. Hang these six bastards and then see the crime graph in Delhi.

There are undercurrents of good and bad in almost all human beings. We came out of the caves to civilize ourselves by taming the beast by putting up chains of deterrence in various forms: social conventions, ethics, family relationships, beliefs and lawful punishment. When they started wagging tongues against capital punishment, it was under the blind belief that we have become civilized sufficiently to self-contain the bad in us to a degree that would not allow us to get into heinous manifestations of crime. But dears, these fundas fail miserably in the devils still lurking around in stinking corridors of sub-human existence interspersed with the cleaner faces of our society. Socio-economic development in these grey areas is a generational shift and the theoreticians can dump their capital and jobs and work in these slums to change their surroundings and material possessions and then later on clean the shit of their brains. We but in the cleaner by lanes of society want safety for our law-abiding generation by having this feeling that there is capital punishment against the crime that is tormenting the body and souls of almost all the women and girls in Delhi.

Hang them please!

The Dragon will eat dust in WWIII

In a hostel I stayed in Delhi for my civil services preparations, I came to be called as a bada bhai by many IIT and engineering aspirants preparing for their entrance exams. All of them were normal boys having pleasant mix of vulnerabilities and directionless strengths as conditioned by their teen years. But one chap stood out as Godzilla. It was not just on account of his size, for there were definitely some others who may also have been christened similarly is only size could have been the only criteria. What made him the common enemy was his arrogance and his effort to portray himself as the exceptionally powerful for the ordinary bunch of schoolboys around. Their was a strange swagger in his walk that cried, ‘Its between you and me!’ So guys it became an issue between one versus many. Confrontation was inevitable. One night many smaller ones pounced upon the hated Godzilla. War cry was: ‘Maro saale Godzilla ko!’ It resulted in—as it always happens in a conflict between one versus many (or few versus many) — a terrible defeat and consequent loss of face for the giant.

Guys, moral of the story is clear: Thousands of nice acts of civility and good behavior may not fetch you even a single genuine friend, but an act of arrogance and aggression is definitely bound to fetch you many enemies. There have been WWI and WWII. The trigger point was the power going astray in some aggressive form of nationalism that puffed out belligerent winds in four directions. Aggression wins you very selected friends. So in both world wars, the so called axis powers had lesser parties to their boasting kitty and the so called allied powers were able to muster up the support of many nations across the world. Whatever may be the amount of bloodbath, the result inevitably has to be in favor of the allied powers, like it happened in both world wars. The fireball escaping its burning guts is ultimately bound to douse the genie. Moreover, the leadership of the allied powers earns the right to take world leadership.

China is going much on the pattern of axis powers presently. Its inflated sense of chronic nationalism has made it blind to the bitter facts of the previous world wars. The way dragon is hissing fire around it has all the potential to trigger a third world war. But believe me, Chinese missiles and bullets might taste enemy blood in all the nooks and corners of this world, but its defeat is inevitable and ordained by the laws that governed the first two world wars. What Hitler let out through his individual manic personality, the Chinese leadership is doing it collectively. Result: They have all enemies in its neighborhood and across the world. In South Asian context, only a failed state can be counted as its real ally. If by dumping cheap exports in poor African countries, Chinese leadership has come to believe that it has dozens of allies, then it’s a gross miscalculation of strategic facts. By crossing all the limits of diplomatic niceties vis-à-vis India through claiming vast Indian territories as its own, it has taken its art of statecraft 70 year back to the Nazi era. By stepping on the toes of smaller nations around South China Sea, it has created a sort of one versus many situation. If there is a WWIII, believe me Chinese fate cannot under any circumstances be better than the belligerent axis powers.

In cooperation with America, India can play a great role in this coalition of forces against the arrogant and blinded-by-power Godzilla and beat it like those smaller boys beat the bully who ran down the stairs utterly terrified and may be even pissed in its pants. Every Chinese act of belligerence driven by madly chronic, expansive nationalism is going to earn it more and more enemies. USA beat Russia in Cold War because there was NATO. It never trumpeted its status as the sole decider of world’s destiny, even though it could have done so. It always kept many allies to its side, even though they played a marginal part in its campaigns. So China carry on with your enemy-making juggernaut, we Indians will meanwhile cooperate with Americans and your ever-longer list of enemies to beat the Micky out of you in the possible WWIII.

Was Indo-China 1962 Confrontation In Fact a War?

We lost the war to China in 1962. Was it worthy of being analyzed as a war? And put up such Himalayan psychological, defeatist dab on our young and exultant sense of nationalism? ‘War’ is unjustifiably too big an expression for these basically poorly planned skirmishes in the barren Himalayan terrain, where hardcore war strategies and ironclad nationalism melted into the anonymous mists of those far-fetched undefined territories. We had no plan at all, except the vague idea about our boundary lines. They had a stronger idea about what they thought belonged to them. It was merely a school-boyish mad rush into uninhabited wilderness to find some larger meanings which no side had a definite idea about. So the anecdotes are full of chance skirmishes, futile bravados and disproportionate hoopla about the proportions of battle engagements.

As a newly independent country, we accepted the word 'war' to qualify on the scale of capability to defend the new-found sovereignty and territories. This mere acceptance of the expression 'war' for those rudimentary childish pursuits in the wild snowy trails has done us more psychological and historical harm than the real casualties on the battle field. The stage was too hazy and distant. In the wide nook and corners of India, we grew up with this massive war defeat scar that was in fact in terrible disproportion to the scale of real operations. Admitted, China rushed in to grab a considerable proportion of the territories in Aksai Chin where our claim of ownership was just stamped by symbolic patrols and traditional belief. But losing a chunk of land over which we never had the time and capability to fully stamp our ownership, does no justice to the fact of accepting some free runs in barren lands as a humiliating defeat in a full-scale war. We just lost a few not so pitched battles, that’s all! We ourselves get hyper about the word 'war' to somehow exaggerate the scale of military operations (we as the defendants of our territories and Chinese as the greedy grabbers) to legalize our victimhood and their crime act. And for this we just accept the insulting defeat in a bloody war.

Fifty years on, what is the ground position in the actually held territories? We have all the reasons to smile and give ourselves a pat on the back and bury that scar, even if it means with a cosmetic sense of belated belief. The strength of any military unit is directly proportional to its real-life practice in the field. In mountain warfare we far outdo China. Thanks to Messers Pakistan and Co. we have been busy in mountain warfare for more than six decades. When you are fighting against the invisible enemy and try to keep your humanitarian records clean as well, it really gives you the bloodiest war drills. It has been going on against insurgencies at both the Eastern and Western fronts in the toughest Himalayan terrains. It has been at tremendous costs at the man and material fronts. But believe me it has put our forces through such fiery experiences that it can be really counted as one of the most battle-worthy in mountainous regions. Chinese military bragging meanwhile has been limited to nationalist gung-ho, hoopla and technological innovations. But there is a great difference between getting starry eyed over a new warfare gadget and getting into the real mess of a bloody situation where you have to kill the hidden enemy, spare you people and keep the thing of law in your mind in the snowy heights. We are a far superior military force, on account of our constant real-life drills, in the terrain that are in dispute with China.

Indian Navy still scores over China. It is not about having the biggest dagger in the world. What matters is that your dagger should be just long enough to reach the enemy’s heart and you should have, first, the intention, and second, the strength to push it that deep. I mean the nukes! Equipped with this deterrence, we are logically capable of engaging Chinese in--both limited and not-so-limited--conventional mountain warfare. We have invested so much of money into air warfare equipments, at the cost of depriving millions of people of basic amenities of life. However, it at the minimum gives us all the reasons to practically maintain our supply chains in the toughest terrain. So Indians forget about a few skirmishes lost to China in 1962 and be optimistic about future.  

Rabbit can beat Cobra!

Rabbit can beat Cobra!
Yes, it is possible! Provided the rabbit gives only that much against
Cobra as it would in a deadly fight against a fellow rabbit for the
girl rabbit. The crux of the matter is: All routined results and
consequences are born of the meek acceptance of certain facts, i.e., a
rabbit has to die or run away while faced with a snake. Even the snake
attacks a rabbit under the instinctive presupposition that the rabbit
has to get scared and get defeated. The rabbit on its part is most of
the times driven to the extent of heart failure at the sight of a
snake.
 
I saw a documentary in which these roles were turned topsy-turvey by
the characters. A snake attacked a rabbit in a field. At the first
strike the rabbit jumped back. Conventionally the snake should have
been running after the scared creature, but the latter struck back. It
was sufficient to break the snake's surety about the weaker status of
rabbit. It went on backfoot. After this it was a sheer comedy. The big
snake was running for life, while the brave rabbit was jumping at its
tail all the way. Moral of the story is: If despite being bothered
about what lies in our face, we just give as much as in the face of
some equal opponent, we can turn the tables on mightily weightier
people, animals, situations and problems. The condition is just this:
We have to give our best shot irrespective of the status of what
confronts us.
 
Following the same principle a brave girl was seen heartfully slapping
a fierce looking rascal. Believe me I have never seen such plain, hard
slapping in real life! The rascal just did some mischief under the
presumption that this rosy creature will not be in a fighting position
against his rowdy appearance and he will go scot free even after
infringing on her modesty. Unfortunately, this is what normally
happens in real life. So the idiot was driven into misadventure by
this blind presupposition. But man what repercussions! The brave lady
just gave her best as she would have given against a fellow girl in a
catfight. Amazing! He just stood spellbound under the shower of her
slaps. It was just like watching a stony man being slapped
effortlessly. Man, he was not even raising his hands to save his
imperiled cheeks. Almost hypnotized! It was a great fun though!

We are the owner of whatever is left in the pocket

He is in his early eighties now. Robust old man! Definitely a sort of

achiever at the property front! More so against the fact that when he

and his family escaped from the blooded Pakistani soil at the

partition time, after losing loved ones and all property, they were

even poorer than beggars. He started earning for the family at the

tender age of 8 only. Then graduated onto become a truck driver and

ultimately a transporter. His struggles took him to all corners of the

country in all types of circumstances. I asked him about the guiding

philosophies in his life. There was a light in his old, dim eyes:

'This fellow trucker of ours was really poor. All his worth was

invested in this old truck. We were going in a convey in north east.

His vehicle was carrying jaggery. The thing got toppled into a hole.

It was damaged and jaggery all over the place. Fortunately he and his

helper boy came out with bruised on skin. But I knew he was carrying

bigger scars in his heart because that truck was all he had in the

name of property. We were just afraid how he will react to it. In fact

we were almost speechless so far as paying lip service is concerned.

He just sat at a stone and cast a sad look at the damaged truck. In a

very normal tone he called his helper, "Oye yaar jo hona tha ho gaya.

Ab rone ka kya fayada. Bhookh lagi hai puttar. Bring me some lumps of

jaggery and water. Bad ki bad me sochenge. Pahle bhojan to kar le."

Saying this he invited all of us into the feast as well.'

This is what is all about life buddy. It is no use crying over spilt

milk. We have to ensure the show continues. Whatever is left after a

storm is truly what belongs to us. We have to proceed with the journey

with the depleted resources. Well, a journey is after all a journey

fella! It is not justified that we expect all the pomp, show and

regalia to accompany us till the end. As Pan Singh Tomar said: 'One

has to complete the race! Winning and losing does not mater. All we

can do is just try to reach the finish line!'

Idea conceived now deliver healthy baby

Almost 90 per cent of the ideas entering the brains of normally sane

people are practical to a highly decent degree. But still millions of

practical ideas die in brains, being kicked in the womb by the forces

of indifference, negligence, lack of confidence, etc. Believe me a

sane idea in a normal brain is just like a ball kept at the table top

of a mountain. It just needs a beginning push, just enough to allow it

to cross the level and reach the margin. After that it is bound to

roll downhill under the gravitational forces born of your starting

effort, other constituents in your scheme, various correlated fates

and efforts, etc., etc. The ball of your system will just roll down

buddy. So prove only this much that you have decently workable legs

having at least that much strength as required to move a stationary

football. Kick the standstill ball on a small plain in your brain.

Just give it a deft touch and you will roll with your system.

Idea conceived now deliver healthy baby

Almost 90 per cent of the ideas entering the brains of normally sane

people are practical to a highly decent degree. But still millions of

practical ideas die in brains, being kicked in the womb by the forces

of indifference, negligence, lack of confidence, etc. Believe me a

sane idea in a normal brain is just like a ball kept at the table top

of a mountain. It just needs a beginning push, just enough to allow it

to cross the level and reach the margin. After that it is bound to

roll downhill under the gravitational forces born of your starting

effort, other constituents in your scheme, various correlated fates

and efforts, etc., etc. The ball of your system will just roll down

buddy. So prove only this much that you have decently workable legs

having at least that much strength as required to move a stationary

football. Kick the standstill ball on a small plain in your brain.

Just give it a deft touch and you will roll with your system.

Political Cauldron

Political Cauldron

Indian political scene is in disarray. It was bound to happen. Even after 66 annual democratic rituals, frankly speaking the meaning of freedom is as elusive like it was during the British period. Power is power, it corrupt almost by instinct. Its law is impersonal. Under it sway the colonial exploiter is as unsparing as the brown post-independence man. If with a pinch of salt, you can afford to rejoice at the idea that at least our own people are reaping the fruits at the cost of collective good, then it is appropriate to take part in 15^th August festivities. But the real freedom and real democracy lie beyond such blind hallucination. We have to come out of the ever-forgiving festivities going on for almost even decades and settle down to real business.

So where do we stand post Lalu-type political plunder? Issues like political corruption were never accepted by the society at large as the ones capable of turning the political tides against the wrong-doers. So it is a folly to expect the political class to go into elf-remedial mode and cleanse the system by itself. It is simple: we the common voters never questioned them so they thought if the ones who carry our destiny on their thumb impression are comfortable with it then where is the need for changing the ways and mean of political business.

So buddies we reached the UPA era. If coalition compulsions required the government to reach the pinnacle of compromises at all levels, against the background of teeming millions living like animals in their struggle and nonchalant educated middle class lost in the dream of reaching still higher rungs of an apolitical ladder, then what is wrong with that. But then river of corruption broke all check dams. It was only when the ever-rising costs of living stabbed deep into the so-called self-uprighteous, educated middle class that corruption became a major issue. It is simple mathematics. Laks of crores of rupees stashed in foreign account is not created in void. It is born of the pathetic conditions of the farmers who still continue to work harder, put more inputs in fields and left with lesser and lesser money at the end of the season. Millions of daily wage earners add to the weight in dubious accounts through their ever-piling miseries through more work and less and less savings. Millions of salaried middle class also contributes to it through mindless spending on costlier and costlier consumer items and taxes. Simple: We work, suffer, struggle unquestioningly and they gather the loot through direct and indirect means.

Thankfully the balloon of corruption burst finally. Everything has it limits man. Its blast shook the collective consciousness at many levels. Anna movement and Ramdev movement are nothing but collective sighs of dissent against the mindless plunder and compromises by the UPA government. If nothing more at least corruption is a political issue now. Anna and party have decided to enter politics now. How will they manage to fight elections in an arena where the victory so far has been defined by money, violence and all the rest gory deeds, is a big question. At least they represent those Indians who are educated, earn their bread and butter through hard work in corporate corridors. Their chances of success depend upon the rate of participation and growth in this section. If managed properly it can become a good counter force in Indian politics. As far as Ramdev is concerned, he appears driven more by a stubborn self-lorn charisma that always keeps him on tenterhooks even though he amasses thousands of crores through his corporate Yoga. The target of his fury is too narrow to leave a holistic effect on the overall fabric. He can hog limelight through fiery statements like petty politicians, but we all still remember the weeping woman-cloth-clad baba.

BJP is still not as strong as it should be against the background of anti-UPA breeze. It appears undecided about what kind of top-tier leadership to keep, unlike Congress which is at least true to its archaic aristocracy specific to a family. The latter is accepted and spelt out clearly thus leaving little space for infighting, leaving it with all the time, energy and resources to fight against all the slingshots aimed at it. Its simple: One dissenter or enemy inside house is far far more dangerous than hundred of outside foes baying for blood. BJP can learn a few lessons from the grand old party in this regard.

 
So what are our political prospects in the near future? It is very hard to tell. Just wait and watch. Its really dicey! 

The Common Story of a Common Man

Jaipal is around 45 but looks an old man of 60. Hair beaten by all types of winds; teeth gone in munching the stones that life has to offer; facial features roughed off like furious desert storms hitting against a lifeless rock face for years. Life has very little to offer to this daily wage earner from my neighbouring village. Still he gives best to the society around. Makes this darkening world a little brighter with his self-motivated commitment for the labour tasks at hand.

His friends call him 'Tihadi', i.e., the one who has been to the notorious jail in Delhi. But as you watch this bony figure heaving massive pulls at the conscience-lorn rope, you can find no justification for the title. Well, the famed Indian justice system mostly catches the smallest fish and allows the whales a safe passage. He was caught ticketless in a local passenger train to Delhi. Fine was to the tune of 500 rupees. 'But my whole being is not even worth that much!' he pleased. So he landed up in Tihar jail to earn the nickname. Babus made him do a hard labour to earn his roti and dal. There was no encashment for his fruitless work, of course. Unconcerned, he stretches out every sinew of his frail body to make my world better at the construction site.

For the marriage of his eldest daughter he had pooled almost his life-long earnings, and put them in his hovel. There was a fire and his 60,000 rupees turned to ashes. But then sometimes people get senty, so many came forward with a hand of charity. Money and gifts were collected by the villagers. This single good-countering-bad stroke of destiny has, may be, kept the thread of honesty tied to his being.

He has not even the bicycle. I ask him the reason. 'There is no space to put it at my place,' he says. I look for signs of a joke on his decimated face. But he is damn serious. His fellow labourers bear witness to this fact. His only possession is a tiny 10×15 depilated room. So where is the room for poor man's merc, i.e., bicycle? I think it does not need more emphasis to decide that he is amongst the poorest of the poor in the country. There is this scheme of BPL card in rural India. The card-holder enjoys many benefits like subsidized wheat, rice and kerosene from the public distribution system. If one can arrange some patronage and blessings from the mighty village strongmen and pradhan, one can get 25,000 rupees for house construction as well. But for such big benefits you must in a position to pay back many times more in many forms. He does not fit anywhere in this give–take equation. So despite many rounds for a BPL card he is found the least eligible for it.

The world may not care about him. The economic breeze blowing coolly in India may not kiss to vapourize the sweat beads on his hardened, bowing back. Swanky cars may glut the roads while he does not even get his bicycle. Scamesters may swindle public money to the tune of laks of crores and go scot free, while he spends 10 hardworking and insulting nights in Tihar jail. He may stay in a tiny hovel while he helps construct swanky apartments for others. He, but, has got his reward. The reward of goodness. Despite countless promptings to the contrary, his basics have not changed. He is true to himself. And this truth to the self is the fuel that is pulling the cart of this big, bad and still worsening world. It will collapse when the last of his type will say bye to this world.

Nehru Vs. Advani

Nearly all political parties in India bear the same foul-smelling
tricks and strategies in their secret books. However, in one
democratic aspect the BJP scores over the Congress. We can call it
intra-party democracy. Let us start with their respective fortune
turners in independent India—JL Nehru and LK Advani.

Nehru was a great statesman. Inevitably the legacy left behind by such
impressive personalities cannot be expected to say a quiet bye to this
world as soon as the holy flames kiss the body. It lingers over for a
long period of time. In third world countries where masses stay almost
in animal state due to poverty and illiteracy such memories are
carried over generations. Simply, because the masses have accepted to
be the good followers of the God-ordained authority at the higher
levels! There is paucity of charismatic and dynamic new leaders who
can help the masses forget the past and move on with the times. So
nothing wrong if the legacy escaping from the pyre of Nehru decides to
stay back to serve his progenies!

Consolidation of the Nehruvian grasp over the very meaning of Congress
(and the consequent credit for winning the freedom for the country)
was a natural corollary to the fact that much-obliged and jubilant
masses as well as second-tier leaders within the Congress clapped
inapprehensively while the lighthouse of Nehruvian legacy was slowly
built up in the excitingly languid waters of free India during the
initial decades. It overshadowed many a capable Congress leaders.

If we analyze Advani's efforts in taking a party having just two seats
in the Parliament to the apostle of power within two decades, we can
say that it somehow matched or even surpassed Nehruvian endeavor to
turn Congress literally a family institution. But within BJP the
patriarch has been struggling to maintain his position amongst a
fantastic crop of career-oriented politicians. The man who almost
single-handedly took it to power has not been allowed to set it up as
a sort of family institution. On this account BJP counts as a far more
democratic set up given the freedom of choice of leadership among its
ranks.

On the other hand, when highly capable and very senior Congressmen
line up to pay homage and kiss the Yuvraj's (the heir apparent) hands
it unfortunately smacks of typical Indian medieval mentality of
treating rulers as the symbols of divinity. If Congress is a
democratic party and believes in its rituals then it is high time that
we see its great leaders taking the center-stage irrespective of the
family they are born in. If Indians still accept Rahul Gandhi (the boy
whose caliber and skills can be matched by thousands of Congress
workers across India) as their natural leader, it just tells that we
are very God-abiding people and just would go behind anybody he
decides to send to the first political families in the country.

Sachin's Parliamentary Innings

One thing is clear. It is almost impossible to be a successful Indian

and still not be a politician at some level. Ironically the league of

achievers, apart from the clean shirts, includes shadowy characters

like big-time criminals, swindlers, tricky scamesters and all those

spooky characters who cock snook at law and still be in influential

positions. Now, coming back to the clean-shirted successful Indians.

Sachin Tendulkar is in the front league of those whose cuts and pulls

can help the masses forget their individual miseries. He gives me/us

far too occasions to celebrate and be happy than I/we can manage with

my/our limited capabilities. There might be a really bad day with

me/us but then the news of Sachin hitting century finds me/us taken in

by the pleasant and welcoming pools of the sea of Indian humanity lost

in the whirlpools of his classy hits. He is the pain-killer and

joy-giver. God bless him! Long live Sachin!

Looking at his apolitical strides on the path of inspiring and

influencing millions of destinies, it appeared there are politics-free

domains in this country where you can strive for perfection. But then

how long an Indian after reaching the highest echelons and still not

kiss the political maiden with its tempting pout. It is just a matter

of time. The inevitable countdown! So our Sachin finally surrenders to

the temptation. Nothing wrong with that! But eating the political pie

while still with gloves on is a bit disappointing. It would have been

better with his willow in his restroom. Maybe he would have been in a

better position to understand a bit of Parliamentary thuggery and

hypothetical talk over public issues in Rajya Sabha. Sachin, but, is

Sachin—ever-lorn for new figures and targets. We agree that he does it

for Indians. Just wonder he will use the same single-minded

determination in adding some voice of sanity to some debate over some

bill. At least he can think of it when there is no Indian cricketing

itinerary and the Parliament session begins.

Indians love him as the son of India. However, in a country where

political opinions have the razor-sharp pernicity to cut down

relationships for ever, it will be interesting to see whether he will

lose some of his diehard fans because now he represents a particular

party as well. By the natural law of it, all those who oppose this

particular party may find Sachin less affable now. It is one of the

toughest challenges in India to maintain a good relationship with a

supporter of different political stream. Wonder there won't be a

section of Indians who will jump with joy when the great man adds to

the number of 0s in his kitty.

We can even surmise that the great man was just fed up with his status

of the King of cricketing Gods feasting upon the mass accolades of

hallucinated masses fed on rich cricket-opium diet. So just to realize

his human avatar he like any of us wants to have some bad neighbors so

that by hitting massive fours and sixes he can rub salt on their

wounds and thus enjoy the sweet-sour taste of it. Excuse him please!

It is just to be human.