And It Rained

I look out of the window of my jerky bus and see torrential rain. I also see beautiful trees… green and beautiful. The fruits are bountiful. I also smell a stench…powerful and guttural. A little looking around and I zero in on garbage dumped in a quiet corner - Invisible to the careless eye but prominently conspicuous to the sensitive nose. The scenario was beautiful and appalling at the same time.
Is emergent India being epitomized through this visage of nature? It’s a pertinent question and one with many justifications. Yes it rained…is still raining elephants and horses if you please. The bull was, at one point in time, running through the bear’s china shop and the people were cheering it on. Flyovers and highways are still coming up left, right and centre. Multiples and malls are becoming the order of the day. People are earning more; people are spending more and people are saving more. The bankers are not complaining nor are the customers. The rich are getting richer…yeah damn right they are. But what of the poor? They are definitely nose-diving into the throes of poverty.
What of the ordinary farmer in Maharashtra? A certain Mr. Minister would ask, “Yes, what of him?” -Well, its not been raining in his backyard for sure. The poor blokes realized that they had been shortchanged by their weather god and the self-assumed god (politician). With no help from any quarter and a speedy descent into the quagmire called debt, they decided to cut through the very fabric of their lives. Can you feel the stench? Is it the rotting corpse of a very dead farmer?
The air is suddenly dense with a suffocating stench. The scents are many and different. But its characteristic foulness is common. The rain suddenly does not seem so enchanting anymore; the greenery starts moving to the background and the offal comes into full view. Can it be that when its rains it also pains? Can it be that we have become so monomaniacal and unidirectional in our pursuit of economic excellence that we have forgotten to use all our senses in conjunction with each other? Are we eschewing our responsibilities towards each other by looking through blinkers?
I look outside again – And it rains again.

A Growl A Day Keeps The Delays Away

Have you ever felt that most of the people around you respond to force only? Have you felt that probably a frown, on more occasions than one, came handier than a smile? Well, if you do, you are either me or it more like a pandemic happening around here.

I’ve noticed, from under a raised eyebrow, if you please, that I am most effective when my normally polite voice turn into a low growl. No, I can see what you are doing…please don’t try that at home. The moment I am nice to someone, he/she (mostly she) tries to take advantage of me. Imagine, being nice to ten people a day! It’s like a circus. The moment they (the whole wide conniving world, I say) realize that you are a softie at heart, they queue up to use your ‘soft’ heart as a dart board. It’s an exciting game they say, after all maximum points are scored by the closest hit to the centre.

Sir Rajesh – The Backbreaker
Let me take, for example, Mr. Rajesh. Mr. Rajesh, or ‘Sir Rajesh of the Nighthood’, as I like to call him, does visualization for me and a few others. While he is crude and disrespectful with the others, he is extremely prompt with my work. Why? No I don’t bribe him…I just give him a ‘hot’ time. Every breach of deadline is rewarded with a “long pause…Why?...long pause” in a low growling voice. That is succeeded by the eye-brow samba punctuated with rhythmic grunts. By the time he is at the climax of his explanation, I am already sounding like a boar that has smelt sweet potatoes! He considers himself lucky if he escapes with an extension of deadline. If you are going to continue with that accusing gaze, I’ll indulge you with the other side of this story. The story of Jake, the smiley. That’s right – me. Mr. Rajesh was the same chap I used to go to, with a smiling face and a low, encouraging voice, so that my work got done in the given time frame. He gave a shit for all that. All of six months I tried to be this whole other person – gentle, friendly, smiling, protective…blah, blah, blah. Then I decided to play turncoat. Three days. Three days is all it took to get him back on track. For the first two days he could not believe that I was the same person. You know the funny thing? He does not even report to me!

Ms. Chattopadhyay – The Godmother
Cut to Ms. Chattopadhyay. Now she is something. You would consider yourself lucky if you completed a whole day’s work without seeing her drag her lipids around the block. Now, her attitude is a real bummer. She thinks that god created her in all her enormity so that she could get the lion’s share from everyone else’s success. It just does not matter what she does, she’s got to get benefits that others deserve more than her…all in the name of a few months of chronological precedence. Now, every time I spoke to her nicely she made every attempt to make my life a living hell. I am from a family where women are treated with a lot of respect. Big mistake. I just could not bring myself to tell her off. As a result, she kept at filling my chief’s ears with fiction about me. This went on till finally my patience gave way. Big mistake [Never piss off/on Uncle Jake – Old jungle saying]. I just shifted gears into overdrive. I am ready to wager that even when she mulled on the Cold War and its fallout in Std. VII she never expected to be in the middle of one! I created a hostile environment without being rude and whenever the two of us were part of the same discussion, the air conditioner would also have to be turned off. Subsequently, I metamorphosized this cold hostility into erratic bursts of sarcasm in public. All of one week and she broke. Now we share a very fierce, healthy and respectful relationship. I am fierce while she is healthy and respectful LOL!

Ms. Diana – Reverse Sweep
Now, this is a class act. Seriously a class act. This is probably one case where the lesson was learnt in reverse. I used to really keep Ms. Diana on her toes…yes, the growls too. She was good, fast and efficient. I always praised her in front of the bosses and recommended her for bigger activities in the corporate circus. But, true to my nature, I never let her know that I was her promoter in ‘The cabin’. Over time, I eased out a little on her and resorted to smiling and joking and other disdainfully ridiculous activities just to make myself more affable. Within mere days her efficiency came down, excuses were born, deadlines were being stretched and blunders were being committed. I realized that my ‘charming smile’ LOL was my undoing. Well, what can I say, I wielded the stick and all was well again.

You might be thinking that I am a crazy demonic taskmaster who has screwed up ideas about work and pathetic people skills. I am not in a position to comment about that. However, one thing I can say, with enough conviction is that if you prefer to be the country-club type, people are, more often than not, going to sell you tickets to your own circus.

Fast, Faster, Fastest?

Mr. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi realized a pugnacious truth long ago - In a nation of a billion hungry people, fasting was the easiest and most natural action to comprehend and identify with. There were no complications that you would normally associate with michils (ask the Bengali dada lok), picketing or any other form of protests; also, everyone understood the implications of a fast. Then again, for a well fed British empire, fasting was an incomprehensible idea. History bears witness to the tremendous success that he enjoyed in selling the idea to the populace. It was an act of defiance - non-violent but self inflicting. The person fasting was granted heroic status for the rare virtue of self sacrifice while the incumbent authority had the hero’s blood on its hands. It was the perfect recipe for an emotional national unification.

Well, dieting days are here again. I speak not of the womenfolk fasting (on milk and fruits) during Navratra but of the singularly abhorred breed - politicians.

The battle over the Narmada dam, a symbol of 'progress' and beacon of hope for the waterless, has been raging for the past twenty years. However, it always went down as a distant fifth or sixth among hot issues, getting piped by acts of communal indiscretion, cricketing debacles, ailing national leaders, malfunctioning wardrobes, publicly smooching film stars and other ‘important’ issues. Finally a fast unto death forced the whole nation to sit up and take notice. Even those who thought that Narmada was just the pretty girl next-door, let alone the fact that it also flowed through 2 other states, voiced their 'opinions' on national television. The Chief Minister of Gujarat, Mr. Narendra Modi, in retaliation, also fasted for 51 hours. While that be as it may, this opens up some ‘fast’ questions. Why are people fasting away competitively? What is the significance of a fast-unto-death in the post independence days? After all, isn’t that why we achieved independence, so that people with a cause to defend would not have to fast to be heard? If after half a century of self-rule, the people still have to fast unto death to get justice, it is not anything short of insulting the memory of our independence and the way we achieved it.

My personal view on the NBA and its strategy
The question is not whether the dam should be built or not. That is entirely rhetorical. The dam is essential to the progress of people from 3 states – lets first accept that as a truth. However, progress that is writ with the blood of the very people it is meant to alleviate is regressive. It defeats the purpose of sophistication and civilization. The answer to this is not to stop progress but to provide for the displaced people. It seems unfortunate that even after having heavy weight intellectuals like Medha and Arundhati on their side, the displaced people could not manage to put their finger on the fulcrum point of the issue. The bottom line is this: Stopping the construction of the dam is improbable. If the displaced do not get their demands in order, they could well be steamrolled and have no one to blame for it but themselves.


On a lighter note, more politicians should take up fasting as a means of protest instead of ‘rathing’ around in Toyotas or screaming nasty slogans in the pouring rain. The positive effect would manifest in different ways. Some people would get more food for consumption, some leaders might reduce their cholesterol problems and, if we are lucky, we might just get rid of a few extremely rotten netas!

Rang de Public Protests

I have, in the past too, been impressed by the all-consuming social influence of some of our cine superstars. Although each of them has left their characteristic mark on the social behaviour and outlook of the people of India, none has been as significant as that of actor Amir Khan. Amir Khan has almost always picked roles that define the way lives should be lead; idealistic and difficult lives. Through the role of the tough cop in Sarfarosh to that of sepoy Mangal Pandey, he has always conveyed strong messages to the people.

All ‘standard’ movies showed corruption, defilement, rape and a billion other vices. Then the hero came and single handedly took out the motley bad crowd. Amir Khan’s Rang de Basanti changed all that. True, it had its own share of controversies – prime being the use of violence to weed out social evil – but it impacted the youth like never before. For the first time a matinee idol was able to convince the nation that when evil threatens to take over your country, your hands should not be in your pocket. The candle light march held for the fallen pilot in the movie then became the avant-garde of the neo-enlightened public protests.

“Sarfaroshi ki tamana ab hamare dil main hai
Dekhna hai zor kitna bazu-e-qatil main hai
Karta nahi kyon dusara kuch bat-chit
Dekhata hun main jise vo chup teri mahfil main hai
Ai shahid-e-mulk-o-millat main tere upar nisar
Ab teri himat ka charcha gair ki mahfil main hai
Vaqt ane de bata denge tujhe ai asman
Ham abhi se kya batayen kya hamare dil main hai
Khinch kar lai hain sab ko qatl hone ki ummid
Ashiqon ka aj jamghat kucha-e-qatil main hai
Sarfaroshi ki tamana ab hamare dil main hai
Dekhna hai zor kitna bazu-e-qatil main hai”

Jessica Lall, Meher Bhargava, Priyadarshini Matoo, Meerut fire…the modus operandi of lodging protests remains the same. As soon as the facts are tabled before the people, they decide and their verdict is then out on the streets. In fact the intensity of such popular public protests is such that for the first time since India got independence, the incumbent authorities are being forced to sit up and take good notice. The highly inflammable but mute public has finally found its voice. The authorities will do well to understand that protesting by way of expressing public solidarity with the victimized is not sporadic, platonic or toothless. It has now become the oppressed common man’s way of saying “My country, my people – I care!”

My Reservations

Fifty nine years ago a few good men decided that the great caste divide deserved to be erased. While at it, they thought that the great communal divide also should go. All held in good faith, it should have yielded fabulous results. The problem is just that today, so many years later, the wise men seem to have lost the plot.
Fifty nine years is not a small amount of time by any means. Why is it that after all these years reservations for various castes and communities (minorities) are still holding this country’s future hostage? Which civilized country can afford to say that their best brains are in some other country because they could not give them enough attention or encouragement? Why should it be that the mediocre go to the best schools at the expense of the rest? Fifty years should be more than enough for a surgical removal of the “downtrodden caste” bug. Any more than that and you are bound to believe that some people just don’t want to come out the crap-hole they are in. An objective view of the whole situation convinces us that no backward community was actually encouraged to do well for themselves. The people from minority classes/creeds who did well for themselves were self motivated people. What reservation did Dr. B.R. Ambedkar get? The entire focus in the past fifty nine years had been to completely cripple minority communities (caste/creed …actually I am ashamed of using the caste word so many times) in a fashion that they would never be independent of the politicians - Hence the security of the vote bank.
The worst insult you can heap on a people is labeling them “Backward” as part of OBC. It is the biggest failure of the quota/reservation scheme that 59 years post independence the concept of backward classes still exists. The very existence of a political party based on class lines belies any progress in the direction of an uplifted tomorrow. What has any government done to ensure that “backward” classes get better basic schooling? Why is it, then, suddenly their business to ensure that people from a certain community went to the best colleges in the country? What is this if not political melodrama?
And what the hell do they mean by the word “General”? Who is general? Generally speaking would that be a Malayalee Christian or a Gujrati Brahmin? Would that be a Bengali Muslim or a Ladhaki Buddhist? Is it our fault that some of our forefathers broke the chains of the caste system and made education the foundation stone of our lives? Do we have to suffer because our forefathers foresaw progress fifty years ago? For most of these questions our esteemed leaders won’t have answers or they will supply us with some punitive underdeveloped argument. Either way, in the wake of passionate arguments for and against reservations I hope our national leaders see sense and build the nation with the best available human resources and not shallow dreams and empty promises.