Strata-game!

With the official withdrawal of support by the Left to the UPA Govt. at the Center the over all political topography of our national politics seems to have altered for the time being. I say 'time being' because of the "No Rupture is permanent" comment by the CPI's A.B Bardhan within a day of the Left pulling the plug on the Govt. To the average onlooker it might seem to be a daft remark betraying political opportunism for the future but to the seasoned follower of the The Great Indian Circus which goes by the name of 'national politics' in these parts this comment is a gem of a political profundity.


Not only does the comment hint at future alliances with the 'secular' Congress to thwart the coronation of 'communal' powers ( a stated Left policy) but it also is a sort of mischievous wink to the Congress High Command, hinting at the possibilities that might pose themselves post the 2009 General Elections. Moreover, my take (albeit at the risk of being dubbed a 'conspiracy theorist' of the vilest order) on the matter is that its another Left stratagem.


Let me explain first by enumerating the predicaments facing the Left before they decided to pull-out from the Govt.

1. Surging inflation, an impending oil crisis and increasing interest rates makes for a bad report-card after 4 years even if you are not in charge of the Govt. The Govt. runs on your borrowed support, dammit! Do something to show the people you are their 'Messiah in Reds'. Oppose every move. Stonewall every decision by the Govt. which poses short-term difficulties for the people but has long-term benefits. Public memory is short, remember ? In India its shortest.


2. Nuke Deal ? Yes, that sounds like the ideal issue for pulling the rug from beneath the Congress. Moreover, our GS doesn't like the Yankees much. Why couldn't they have penned something with the Chinese and called it the '一 - 二 - 三 Deal' rather than the 1-2-3 rubbish. It would have been much easier on our rigid ideological stance, you see.


3. Hello! Ain't we supposed to fight the Congress tooth and nail in every state where we have a foothold in the coming General Elections. 4 Years of sharing the bed is enough. Now is the time to abort the unwanted child. Its bad for business, you see, this getting seen honey-mooning for too long with your stated rivals. Its parting-time now!


4. But this won't be so simple. Pulling down the Govt would mean elections within 6 months and the party isn't even ready. The cadres aren't ready. Had a heavy drubbing in the last Panchayats in Bengal and now this. If this is any sign of things we will not fare too well in the next Lok Sabha. 59 might well come down to 30. Forget about the fanciful 'Third Alternative' we won't even be asked for outside-support. Gosh! No issue-based oppositions! No arm-twisting! No Co-ordination Committees! Nightmare! Nightmare!



Then there was LIGHT!

The Left decides to withdraw support and seek immediate trust-vote to prove the majority of the Govt on the floor of the House. I reckon this is why:

1. Withdrawing support makes us look like the only party left with any ideology. We will call ourselves 'pro-poor, pro-people, pro-farmer, pro-worker' again, the BPO segment notwithstanding of course. They are the 'New Bourgeoisie'. Gives us the moral upper-hand in a country where UP politicians are soon to rule the roost. Everyone knows what that means. The Congress will soon ( again) know what being SP-ied mean! They will come scurrying back to us in a post-election scenario. Even they know the expediency of choosing the 'Lesser Evil' out of two. Sounds fascinating!


2. Karat seems a tad too staunch for hard bargaining. Surjeet was more of a man-for-all-seasons. Doesn't understand the compulsions of electoral politics. No wonder Vir Sanghvi calls him 'the man who never won a Municipal Election'. Still, we will have to do with him. He's better than that Biman Bose.


3. Safe distance from the Congress now that we have withdrawn support. We can easily campaign against their 'anti-people' policies now. We were never a part of the decision-making apparatus. Were we ? However with the amount of time left for the present US Congress before the Presidential Elections ,the Nuke Deal will meet a dead-end soon. The UPA-Left Co-ordination Committee has served its purpose. What a great move was that! Was it Yechury's or Pranab's idea? This Committee? God! We should leave Jangipur to him again. He's a great man.


4. This is our common favourite. The Stratagem! Even Bimal Gurung's Gorkhaland number plates idea can't beat it. We are after all talking 'national' here. Here goes:

We ask for an immediate trust-vote motion. We vote against the Govt, against the 1-2-3 deal, but remember, not with the BJP. They just happen to be on our side, incidentally. We don't try too hard to rally too many parties, independents or splinter-groups in voting against the Govt. They remain blissfully absent or abstain on the day of the vote. The UPA Govt. proves its majority, continues at the Centre for the coming 6 months. No 'No-Confidence Motion' can be sought within that time-frame. So, we get time to dissociate from the Congress, protest in Delhi, stage dharnas and hartaals all in the interest of the common people while the Govt. continues. What's the use of crying 'anti-incumbency' when they are not at the helm. We will catch them in power these last 6 months. Sounds great!

Moreover, these 6 months our cadres can use to pile up whatever is necessary to win seats in the coming elections. Congress or no Congress, clout in the House is numbers at the end of the day. The rise and fall of Deve Gowda, I.K Gujral and the Third Front taught us that lesson all right.

Now, say all of you, isn't it a real good move ? This bringing down...errrr.........pretending to bring down the house....? eh ?


cartoon: courtesy: boloji.com

Not the End of an Era

The Fed-Express has finally come to a halt in the Centre Court of London.

In what was arguably the best and clearly the longest battle between the two masters of the game we were all feted to a sparkling display of the most glorious tennis.


Rafael Nadal is the latest name to be etched on that golden Wimbledon Trophy and isn't he a deserving winner! Not that Roger Federer didn't fight back after two sets down. He came within a width of a whisker to winning it for the sixth straight time. But the nerveless perseverance of Rafael 'The Gladiator' Nadal stretched over close to 5 hours ultimately yielded fruit. Even the staunchest of fans from both sides would agree that both should have shared the trophy at the podium. So flawless was the script, so breathtaking every single moment of play, so terrific the duel, so awesome the effect of it all.


Many would speculate this to mark 'The End of an Era'. I believe Roger has more to give. Much more to give. Yes, there was an air of hurt and disappointment at the presentation speech. But it also came with an air of unexpressed grit and determination. If the man says, " I will be back next year" I reckon he really means 'it'. I will be mighty surprised if he doesn't finish his career a few notches above Pete Sampras's tally of 14 Grand Slams.


But then, let's not forget to celebrate the raw class, the seamless play, the lightness of foot of another great. That of Rafael Nadal. It takes a lot to get the majority to root for you in the Centre Court. Three back to back Wimbledon finals and one crowning victory. Nadal has now cemented his place in the pantheon of all time greats of the game. That the entire tennis following fraternity will from now on wait for a 'Clash of the Titans' between him and Federer on the grass-court ( or hard-court) speaks volumes of the powers of the Spaniard. It is born out of the assumption that the French Open is his for the taking for the foreseeable future. And that's exactly how Nadal is claiming Roger's territory. Fast and Relentless.

Let we be teated to more such duel. And let the better of the 'Two Bests' win. Amen.

A Haunting Mistake

The Arushi murder case has not ceased rolling out one surprise after another but somehow it now seems to have been a classic case of misinformation and a terrible example of administrative goof-up. The narco-analysis makes for shocking revelations. [link here]

The fallouts are notable.

Henceforth, the Noida Police will find it very hard not to trigger raised eyebrows whenever it comes out with a sensational theory behind a crime. It had single handedly misguided the public opinion and generated rhetoric and slanderous gossip that would put even Page-3 journalists to shame. To have cast aspersions on the character of a 14 year old who had fallen victim to a horrible murder was outright shameful and that to have come from someone of the post of an Inspector General of Police. Not surprisingly social commentators and ordinary people alike were guilty of expressing disgust and reproach as part of the knee-jerk reaction at the aftermath of such a visibly gruesome tragedy. Many, including me as can be found from the contents of a previous post, were part guilty of being too gullible in believing the 'illicit affair' angle to the murder. My sincerest apologies to the departed. Thanks to the electronic media, preposterous as it might have seemed a few years back but the marriage of crime and media generated sensationalism today necessitates training in media management of public servants. A similar blunder, that of jumping the gun cost the Kolkata Commissioner of Police his job in the Rizwanur Rahman case. The Govt. must take note of the amount of weight that the words of a senior official carry and if any modicum of respect and dignity is to be still salvaged in favour of these hallowed institutions it will be through inculcation of 'responsible public conduct' in these officials.

The lure of the flashbulbs should not blind one to the rigors of his duty.

Witness to a Death

By now people must have read it in the newspapers. I doubt if it figured in the bold significance of the headlines or just occupied a nondescript corner of the 'news snippets' or did it just miss everyone's eye.

The death of a poor bus-driver.

I along with three of my friends were busy fending off the rain from under the shade of a tea-shop yesterday when I saw this huge Krishnachura tree fall over the roof of a passing bus. It fell with a great thud and to my horror I saw the bus ripped into two from the middle.
The impact was so great that the bus stopped within 10 yards of the spot of the accident. We ran towards it. It was a horrible sight to see an otherwise menacing bus in shambles. The front half of the bus had not much left of it. The few people that were inside the bus were making their way out through the back door. I asked one of them if more people were trapped inside. He seemed to be in a daze and replied he didn't notice. There could be many more inside the wreckage. The sight of the mangled remains told us if the ladies' seat at the left and behind the driver's seat were occupied there was slim chance of them having survived. I was surprised to notice a middle-aged woman come down from the wreck and board the next passing bus with unnerving nonchalance. As if nothing had happened.


The rain was pelting down with more ferocity and before long we were headed back to our shelter in the vague assurance that not much harm had been done. The bus was not carrying too many people. Then a person came running along and said the driver had died on the spot. His lifeless limbs were hanging from his seat. That news was jarring. We all were left in a state of shock at having witnessed a death. A death of a fellow human being who knew nothing about his grim fate till a few moments back. How much of a compensation will his family get? Will the Unions look after their needs? Will the bus-owner be generous? No one knows.

Life is just so fragile. And one was snuffed out just yesterday in front of my very own eyes.

Chalo, Let's Go!

A refreshing film by Anjan Dutta ( pic to the right).

Four friends on a joint tourism business venture face the challenges of the job and on the way discover different facets of their clients/tourists.

Acting is good.

Narration tight.

Plot could have been explored further to make it a 'film for keeps', which unfortunately it is not.

Certain sequences are applause inducing as I found out at Nandan last evening.

A good watch.


Today: Sarkar Raaj

Oil Turmoil Hits India

With oil prices set to rise by 5 Rupees per litre from today we are in for another round of passionate hand-wringing and cries of exasperation from the general public. The signs are already there. The fireworks will promptly ensue. Political parties from across every perceivable political divide will join their hands in protesting this grotesque injustice. "How will the poorer sections survive? How will the middle-class fare? " will be their moot-points. The Left will stage street protests in Delhi lead by the likes of Mr & Mrs Karat in tow with the Boses and Bhattacharjees from Bengal. A single LPG cylinder costing 20 Rupees more will make them froth at their mouths with righteous anger and hurt at having had to support such a worthless government at the Centre for so long. But then, what could they have done otherwise. Support the 'communal forces' to form a Govt. ? Never!


The moderates will dub it as the proverbial 'unfortunate' and 'anti-poor' policy. The Congress will be quaking at their knees. With 12 consecutive defeats in State elections the nation over it is in a political coma, in serious need of a quick resuscitation it hopes it will find in Rajasthan( Gujjar uprising) and Madhya Pradesh ( anti-incumbency) in the coming elections. A vehement opposition at this crucial juncture, less than a year away from the General Elections, which might decisively turn the tide against them is singularly terrifying a proposition. And that has considerably cushioned the rod for the aam aadmi this time around. Otherwise a 10 Rupee hike per litre of petrol and a 50 rupees more for a LPG cylinder would have been the biting reality tomorrow morning. With the nationalized Oil Corporations running into huge losses by accommodating for heavy subsidies this hike had become inevitable for some time.


Crisis, be it food or oil, has become a global phenomena. Nothing can insulate the Indian masses from its effects and its better if we realize this reality fast and brace ourselves for some tough times ahead.The remedy to this global malaise is in planning ahead. The much touted vision of 'Energy Security' seems to have taken a permanent backseat with the Left having effectively steamrolled the Indo-US Nuclear Deal for the sake of hanging onto its logic defying 'Anti-America' stand. The Iran-Pakistan-India Oil pipeline also seems mired in diplomatic tangles with the pendulous nature of Indo-Pak relations. If our political visionaries ( now don't you start counting, you may not even end up with one) do not show resolve in tackling the situation and make a strategy for the future India's juggernaut might come to a most inglorious halt. And all in want of oil.

Sample this. China has already secured oil-mining rights throughout Africa, leaving hardly any profitable pocket for India to nudge, push or fit in. The race for oil is but over in Africa and its all China written across that continent. That leaves India to explore its possibilities in the Sakhalin belt and other Central Asian countries, which given its snailish pace of proceedings might never be substantiated. By all means, the energy situation for India seems grim in the future as oil-starvation will effectively peg back its growth rate to the pre-1990 4% figure, rendering the manufacturing industry vulnerable and infirm. So, assessing the situation in the light of the impending global crisis this hike is but a mild tremor. The real shocks might follow soon.

Until then, all hail Subhash Chakrabarty and hope that our bus fares don't go through the roof.

Adios.

Royally Touched

The Rajasthan Royals have clinched it and Kolkata is witnessing stray fireworks in its skies as I write this. I am sure the same would have been the case if the Chennai Super Kings would have won. Strange strange city, this.


Tomorrow will be a day of jubilation, adulation and accolades for the Champions. They have played excellent cricket throughout the championship and gelled well into a team. Starting off as the clear-cut underdogs they have proved their mettle and how.


The day after will see ( if my ability at estimates haven't marooned me of late) articles applauding the mega success of the Indian Premier League and the people behind it ( read Lalit Modi and Co.).


The following days will revolve around speculations from various quarters as to how the game of cricket is being commercialized in the most revolting manner in its 20 over installment which reeks of publicity-hunger and easy cash.


I too will join in as I have hardly written anything on ( and believe it or not, seen) IPL.




* related snippet:

Overheard at the Rash Behari Bus Stop :

boy 1 : I am supporting CSK. If Punjab would have made it I would have supported them. Any
team but the Royals!

boy 2 :( visibly confused) Why ? The Royals deserve it. They were the underdogs. Right ?
And look at Warne. How he has captained the side. Great! Just Great!

boy 1 : ( flushed with signs of an impending emotional outpour)
No foreign captain should walk away with our trophy. Its called the Indian Premier League, dammit! Why can't these *expletive* Aussies stay put with their World Cups. Greedy Bastards!

Karnataka Votes for Vengeance

The Bharatiya Janata Party has once again emerged as the single largest party in the Karnataka State Assembly. Only this time it seems set to rule than just sitting on the sidelines. Hopefully it will garner support of the three independents that it requires to claim simple majority and hence form a government before long. Though personally devoid of any political inclinations whatsoever in this Great Indian Circus of electoral politics I found it hard to hold back my ire at the shameless breach of contract by the Janata Dal-Secular a few months back. Setting an ignominious precedent that is sure to breed suspicion henceforth amongst coalition partners throughout the nation the JD(S) had refused to make way for a Chief Minister from the BJP after the completion of its term in office. Wounded and helpless the BJP had promised vengeance that now seems complete in the wake of this thumping victory. With the JD(S) effectively trounced and grounded the only substantial opposition that the BJP can face in the coming Parliamentary elections is the re-emergent Congress. The latter is already hailing the 'RahulGandhi magic touch', claiming strong voter turn-outs in their support wherever he had held a rally. Personal charisma notwithstanding, the BJP will have to deliver the goods to the people of the state and fast to ensure that its maiden stint in power in a South-Indian state turns out to be productive in the long run and not just a electoral fluke that will be promptly redressed in the coming polls.

Here's wishing B.S Yediyurappa a happy last laugh.

Arushi Talwar - Prelude to a Problem

Arushi Talwar was killed in cold blood by none other than her own father. No matter what the arguments are on the motive behind the crime the act of murder itself remains as irredeemable as ever. When seen in the light of the love, affection and bonding that characterizes a father-daughter relationship and the manner in which all these tenets of parenting was brutally abused it seems that bit more gruesome, heinous and repulsive. While one half of the shocked viewership demands for ‘exemplary punitive action’ the other half delves into deciphering the hints that this incident provides to ‘the bigger picture’.

The Police say that Rajesh Talwar killed his 14 year old daughter and their domestic help in a fit of rage on seeing them in ‘an objectionable position’. No father could have gone back to business after such an incident, of course, but is that reason enough to prompt an otherwise loving father to slit his daughter’s throat in cold blood. I believe not. The very fact that a 14 year old sought solace in the company of a friendly household help tells us a story- A story which is not uncommon in many of the ‘upwardly mobile’ middle class homes of Indian metros. A story of mindless ambition, aspirations, neglect and stress. A story of disintegrating families, values and morals. While soul searching in times of oppressive stress is a heck of a stiff ask but a doctor who is supposed to hold his own even at the sight of blood and flesh could have done better than murder for sure, that too in the name of ‘Honor Killing’. If ever there was a feebler excuse for murder, more obnoxious in appearance and more odious in nature I would be surprised. Why didn’t the doctor feel sorry in the first place that he was not able to inculcate in his own daughter the values of chastity, modesty and reserve that he seemingly cherishes so much? Why didn’t the fact drown him in shame that it was due to his own neglect and complete disregard for his daughter’s needs of love and affection that she had to turn to someone he would disapprove of ? Why didn’t Rajesh Talwar have the decency of committing suicide to relieve him of his failures? The very fact that he showed scant regard for such probing questions before acting in such brutal a manner shows craven escapism and irresponsibility on his part.

With further unraveling of facts Arushis’s story becomes increasingly an alarming study into the Great Indian Middle Class, its fast shifting paradigms and its associate evils. As debate rages over the more disconcerting pointers that her murder provides to our lifestyles one wonders if we need a dead Arushi every week to shake us up from our slumbers of false contentment and introspect. May be Rajesh Talwar will feign derangement or use his influence to go scot free, may be he will be nailed and punished. Whichever way the verdict turns out the collective whole of us need to think which way we are heading. And fast.

The Case of a Curious Couple

While it was raining heavily and I was struggling to hold onto the plastic that covers the side of the auto rickshaw a newly wed couple came and boarded the same. Both of them looking every bit the ideal cast for the Bangoma-Bangomi couple that fairy tales have so vividly etched into our minds from our childhood days, they were panting with the exertion that the sudden downpour had inflicted upon them. The wife took the side seat at the rear and the husband the seat besides the driver in the front. What ensued was a fascinating conversation between them that I couldn't help laughing out to. Here is the transcript, albeit in Bengali, and intentionally kept untranslated to keep the essence unaltered :


Wife : (reasonably drenched) Acchha tomar pishi amake tar bou-er theke niye ekta notun saree porte debe to ?


Husband : (emphatically) Ekdom na!


Wife : tomar ki confidence!


Husband : boroncho boltey paare, ei durjoger diney naa aslei to hoto.


Wife : tomaari to pishi. bolbei to! (mischievous smile on her lips)


(after a deliberative pause) tomaake ei punjabitaay puro bangla cinema-r dushtu jomidaar-er moto laagchhey.


Husband: (to the auto-driver without paying heed to the aforesaid pseudo-compliment) achha amaderke nemey kotota haat-tey hobe ?


Autowallah: ei dhorun 4-5 minute.


Wife : ami kintu oto haat-tey paarbo na. ekta rickshaw koro. ( she was right considering the sheer workload that she would have to undertake on a walking expedition)


Autowallah: (with a sigh of understandable relief as the couple unboarded) koto dhoroner lok hoy sottyi.

Sab Moh-o-Mayaa Hain !

Imagine yourself on a luxury cruise, savoring every bit of the sun and the sea (the other two ‘S’-es rendered forbidden by circumstance and sheer bad management), sipping coconut water in place of pina coladas and flirting with gay abandon pretty young things in curious saffron shorts when suddenly a booming voice from the public broadcast system instructs everyone to assemble at the peeth sthal for the evening sankirtan and satsang. Unimaginable? Not any more. When Baba Ramdev, that indefatigable crusader of Yog Shakti decides to take you on a spiritual joyride on a luxury cruise liner, all the way reminding you of the sheer futility of material pursuits and wealth you can bask in that pleasant contradiction but not question its feasibility. Though the planned cruise spanning seven full days of aatmic souch (soul cleansing) and yog sadhana may set you back by a small fortune the efficacy of such a voyage can hardly be undermined in context to the times that we are living in. Hence, Star Virgo, one of Asia’s biggest cruise liners is pressed into action and off we go on a trip to our inner beings, realizing in tranquil isolation the simple truths hitherto ignored when on polluted hinterlands. [for details click here ]

The trip which is to start with a visit to the Disneyland in Hong Kong (probably Baba’s way of establishing irony by starting the trip with comic symbolism, its very essence in every way i.e) also promises to make suitable stop-overs at the major shopping joints on the way in China and Vietnam. One conjectures this to be an act of gradual re-introduction of the affluent bhakt into the reality of the material world and its mindless pursuits after a week of enforced disengagement and renunciation. It evinces the minute detailing and meticulous planning that has gone into the making of the trip itinerary. Further probing into the matter reveals greater depths of management and foresight as one comes to terms with the awesome human engineering that promises to change the spiritual landscape of India very soon. The compelling genius of marrying the concept of a luxury cruise with the pressing necessity of the urban rich to de-stress and unwind deserves all accolades and reward, fiscal or otherwise.

Ramdev clarifies,

“Those who will be traveling on the cruise belong to upper or upper middle class families. Most of them suffer from stress and I will address this problem at my yoga sessions.”

The ones who are on the threshold of confusing Baba with a new-age avatar of Robin Hood surely belong to the blasphemous lot who had previously mistaken his cultured emaciation for protracted starvation in the Kalahandi region. Ramdev is not your regular saint who insists on insipid meditation and form twisting ashanas. He is the person to have revolutionized the art of popular yoga, making kapalbhati the new craze after ‘ek pal ka jeena.... stop the traffic, show your hands’ routine and taken the TRP of Astha channel to dizzy heights by sheer force of his oratory. The lull which had set into the persona-based Indian Spiritual Industry with the relegation of Chandraswami and Jayendra Saraswati has been favorably filled by someone of the stature of Ramdev. While he transforms traditional notions of spirituality with the same deftness and acumen as Lalit Modi is transforming cricket for the average enthusiast the involved observer will be waiting in all eagerness to see how the Saviour in Saffron fares in feeding the magic potion of faith, kriya and pranayam to the masses who would rather prefer the redeemable sin of little material pursuits which goes by the name of roti, kapda aur makaan..

A Reply to Remember

As the presentation ceremony metamorphosed from the effects of a somber farewell to fevered celebrations three remarks by three different men clung to the back of my mind to be later analyzed in this very post.

"Magic ride", "Outplayed" and "My team".


The first was the way Adam Gilchrist, arguably the finest wicket-keeper batsman of all times, decided to describe his cricketing career. There were no visible signs of emotion fluttering across his face as he bid the final goodbye to his millions of fans and followers around the world unlike the previous time when a choked voice betrayed his softer shades. Though composed and speaking in a matter-of-fact voice there was every bit the sincerity that had marked every minute of his stay on the field all these years. The very words, "magic ride", he chose for the occasion showed the innate humility ingrained in this great sportsman even though he leaves a Himalayan task for his successors to match up to. One of the better examples of a great sports person acknowledging that 'the Game is always bigger than the gamesman'.
The second was how Ricky Ponting decided to put the Indian victory in the tri-series finals. Looking every bit the disappointed leader of a team robbed off its tag of Invincibility his statement was precise at the least and honest at the most. In his words there was a sense of acceptance of the Great Australian Juggernaut feeling the pangs of mortality all of a sudden. That he acknowledged how his team was thoroughly ''outplayed'' in the finals was an attestation to that realization. The very fact that the victory elicited such a comment of resignation from the Australian Captain was also a fitting rejoinder to the viral outbreak of allegations that were made against the Indian players Down Under. Harbhajan could have all the Bhangra he needed to give vent to his sense of hurt and vindication. This was indeed his time.
The knowledge that his scalps included both Symonds and Hayden in such momentous and memorable a victory could only raise the tempo of the revelries, a reminder of divine justice being handed out. The justice seemed to have been furthered with reports that Symonds might be penalized for assaulting a streaker on-field. But, though the score looks settled the Australians would come back strong at Team-India the next time, desperate to salvage soiled pride and reinstate lost honor. Heres wishing them an unhappy comeback and a unsafe recovery.
The third remark was the one that stuck with me for a while and prodded my otherwise inactive brain to put its analysis-lobes into an ill-timed over-drive. The words used by the Indian Captain, Mahendra Singh Dhoni. "My Team". Some might say it was a way of expressing the essence of 'the sense of belonging' running through the team at the moment which on the podium found the services of the young captain's lips to manifest itself. To me, it gave off a naked arrogance which could mean one of the two things. One, this pompousness born as an immediate consequence of The Great Victory was here to stay in Indian cricket as an antidote to ages of abject surrenders to the brow-beating of superior teams on and off the field. Two, the apparently innocuous statement had in its garb the peremptory import of an imminent siege. The seige of the Youth-Brigade. Dhoni has proved himself as an able leader with a cucumber composure under pressure situations over the last couple of series. The T-20 World-Cup win and now the Tri-series victory would affirm to his credentials as a resourceful captain in full command of his charges. His insistence on dropping senior players for this series has been vindicated by this imperious victory. But, let's not forget it was none other than SachinTendulkar, the old war-horse of numerous battles, that indefatigable genius of the craft of batting on whose consummate skills the finals were tilted in our favour. Dhoni can very well have his 'say' in getting the team he wants. The young turks hold dazzling promise but one cannot deny the necessity of mentors in shaping them for the future. Its heartening to see Indian aggressiveness getting the better of strong oppositions but I hope the recoil of such shoot-outs are not felt back home.



photos: rediff.com

Jodha-Akbar - A Review

My feelings towards ‘Jodha Akbar’ was bordering on something of a pleasant confusion and a sense of dejectedness stemming out of unquenched expectations as the credits started rolling at the end of the film.

And it was this same feeling which occupied my mind as I made my way back to my home after coming out of the theater. A film which promised to deliver a cinematic spectacle of epic proportions had failed to deliver on its brief but, not without some consolation. The story revolves around the central theme of the blossoming of love between Jalaluddin Akbar and Jodhabai. The backdrop was provided by a mix of conspiracies, betrayals and blood-feuds that are so much part of power equations and empires from time immemorial. Only in this case there were hardly any attempts at intrigue or unpredictability in their unveiling. Akbar is portrayed as the righteous emperor coming to terms with the rigors of ruling a vast empire and facing enemies both within and beyond his dominions. Rajputana being the ‘iron fortress’ of defiance and pride poses the most formidable source of resistance to Mughal expansionist ambitions. As a strategy of alliance and appeasement Akbar marries the young princess of Amer, Jodhabai, to take a section of Rajputs in his confidence. The film tracks the graduation of feelings in Jodha starting from mild repulsion to acceptance and finally to complete submission in the Mughal emperor’s loving embrace. The sequences where little mind-games between the newly wed couple take precedence over the routine of matrimony is both absorbing and amusing. The rich decor and the overwhelming grandeur of the inside of the mahals are breathtakingly beautiful as are the scintillating spread of jewellery and costumes. The detailing of the backdrops merit accolades galore.

Hrithik Roshan as Akbar gives a good solid performance as the charismatic emperor and a passionate lover. He fits the royal-look requisite to the T and one cannot imagine anybody else in those regal robes strolling down the grand corridors of Diwan-e-Aam and Diwan-e-Khas. His delivery of chaste Urdu is flawless most of the times which does its part in lending credibility to the character. It is good if he sticks to do one 'film of substance' at a time for he is good in his role here, exuding a royal nonchalance and a princely swagger to charm his audience.

Aishwarya Rai Bachhan looks every bit the budding flower that Rajput princesses are supposed to have been. Delicate yet resolute. Passionate yet reserved. The sword-fighting scene actually takes the cake for her. She looks genuine in battle-gear though there spreads a shade of blissful serenity on her face when donning the elaborately embroidered ghagras, singing bhajans in front of her private deity.

Ashutosh Gowarikar has kept to the title of the film, devoting the lion’s share of its run-time to the ‘love-story’ amidst the bedlam of treachery and treason cooking in the background. Though one wonders if it was in fact the inspiration borrowed from Jodha’s love that compelled Akbar to ease taxes and regulations on his subjects, in the process coming out a reformed man worthy of a woman’s love and devotion. If history is so twisted to cater to the tastes of the ‘general’ audience and financers I believe there wasn’t enough evidence of ‘creative liberties’ being taken by the talented director in the film. I am sure a racy item-number here and a little outsourcing of certain parts to one Ekta Kapoor and Karan Johar would have done marvels to the prospects of the film at the box-office. With irrelevant songs in “Azeem-o-Shaan....” and “khwaja mere khwaja...” being packed in the most unceremonious manner into Mughal ceremonies one begins to feel for the poor director torn between duty and desire. Though on a personal level I liked the battle sequences which are quite grand compared to anything made before in Indian Cinema it feels just to be miserly when granting points to this film because of its sheer disregard in highlighting the policy and politics of the Akbar-era, the most remarkable aspects of the great reign and the great ruler.

If history has been dumped most listlessly for this film it will soon have some company.

The Drumstick Strikes Back

This is an excerpt from the translated speech that was given on 23^rd December at the International Avian Summit Conference by its supreme leader, General Hen Peck (no relation of Gregory Peck of course) in the national capital.

“My dear brothers and sisters of the fowl fraternity. (Tumultuous applause!)

It is here that we meet to make a resolution for the future. Our future. A Better future.

A brighter future, free from the gloomy confines and miserable hygiene that humans provide us in the name of poultry-farming. We have endured brutalities for a few thousand years in the name of service. But our silent subservience has been mistaken for our weakness. Even with the passage of great civilizations our conditions have not improved unlike the price of our flesh. What sold in Hogg Market for less than 60 rupees now costs a hundred. I believe that’s just inflation. But, then nothing seems changed. Human greed and appetite seems infinite. No matter how many of them die of starvation in Sudan or in Mozambique it hardly worries them. They keep gorging on our flesh and bones after facile debates on topics such as 'world poverty' and 'equitable distribution of wealth' get over in the UN Headquarters. This injudicious and biased distribution of our supreme sacrifices, namely our meat and eggs, is in gross violation of That Plateful Accord our great leader Cuckoo-n-Khamen signed in Egypt with his human counterpart. The terms of the accord seem to have been completely forgotten. As if this heinous undermining of our spirit of service and over-pricing of our flesh was not enough, I hear, some Indian diplomat had the audacity to call us hideous names by comparing our headless brothers with their good-for-nothing politicians. I ask you, What can be more dastardly than this? (A big roar goes up. With no sign of this ebbing, the General Secretary pleads to the sea of chickenity to settle down. After a few turbulent moments of thoughtfulness, Hen Peck resumes...)

I believe its time for retribution now. Time for vengeance. And what better way than to make it look imperiously ironic by stealing their plans to wreak havoc on them. Our special cells are being trained in the manner fidayeens in Kashmir and the Middle East train themselves. Only ours will be a more ingenious method. Far more sinister and claiming bigger tolls. Where they cause little damage by blowing themselves up in ostentatious explosions in public-places, ours will be a more deliberate and strategically superior method. The thing I call ‘Covert Catastrophe’. I remember my good friend, Don Meato Cock-eone once saying, “Revenge, unlike chicken, is best served cold.” Ours will be that recipe for revenge. Only this time the flesh will be ours............(pregnant pause).... and the apron too. (Crowds go mad. Females neglect chicks, males forget to brood. Roosters raise hell with their throats working overtime lest they be put to sword anytime now for crowing out of turn.)

And for performing this Her-mule-ean duty I ask of you to come forward and bear the burden of our miserable past. Only you can leave a proud precedent for posterity.

Join the Fowl Brigade. (Now howling like an autumn gale) Infect yourselves with strains of the virulent Avian flu. Look as eternally sumptuous as you and your forefathers have while gracing human buffets, caressing their palates, inviting their appetites. And then (with a cruel cunning showing ominously in his beady eyes...he whispers like the Dimer-Devil (Diabolique-de-Chicken) himself) strike with all you’ve got! The prices will fall. Many of us will be mercilessly culled. But, we must be unwavering in our pursuit, unfailing in our mission. The deceased should pass the baton (the flu i.e) to the next and the plague would proliferate in no time. Remember (thunderously pounds the desk and the podium), it is upon your ability to protect the virus from extinction on which our success hinges. Make the air resonate with billions of human sneezes. Our brothers from the Hawk-and-Vulture Council of Elders have offered volunteers for furthering our just cause. Negotiations are on to rope-in influential members of the Pork-Parliament. Get killed, you will in the process. Only ensure that you are handled with no protective clothing on the humans, and persevere, if possible, to jump out of the cauldron before it reaches that deadly 60-degree Celsius.

Soon, the pandemic will be ours. And panic our cry.

(The crowd is riotous now. The grounds replete with remnants of their excrement....errrr....excitement in the form of heady manure that could sustain oak orchards for the coming millennia reeks of the speech’s success. Peck continues....)

One vision. One motto.

Kill Men!

(rapturous applause and battle cries rend the air)

In Appetite we trust.

More so, in the West Bengal Government.

(Now a solemn shade of satisfaction coming over his violent visage, he whispers...)

Egg Chow-Amen.”

(End of speech to sustained waves of cheers and applause).

image:google wallpaper.

'Away From Her' - A Review

An aged wife tells her husband,

“You could have just driven away without a care in the world for me, and forsaken me”

With a pause pregnant with unsaid emotions he whispers,

“Not a chance.”

These two lines which appear so unambiguously banal in content at first glance there lies the ultimate test and triumph of an alliance that is forged over a lifetime.

The alliance we call ‘marriage’.

‘Away From Her’ is a film which captivates with its sheer force of simplicity, all the while delineating the intricate details of a complex human story with the natural grace of life and nature. Adopted from the work named ‘The Bear Came over the Mountain’ by Alice Munro, the film revolves around the trials and tribulations of an elderly couple trying to come to terms with the curse of Alzheimer’s disease and its attendant complications. As Fiona (Julie Christie) starts to lose her memory she is shifted to a ‘retirement facility’ for ailing people, much to the despair of her husband, Grant (Gordon Pinsent), who is emotionally disturbed and much upset at the separation. The immaculate depiction of the traumatic phases that an Alzheimer’s victim undergoes poses a thousand pointed questions to the viewer. The very conception of ‘memory’, as we know it, is shaken to its foundations as one grapples to identify and later appreciate how singularly beautiful it might be to discover a fresh appeal within the confines of familiarity without our mental retention of the past and the memorized. How fascinatingly juvenile and invigorating it might have been to get lost in the woods that one was so accustomed to. How thrilling it might have been to start acquaintance with the person one loved for a lifetime and thereby script a story of rediscovery and revision.

The film lends a compellingly thoughtful perspective in this regard and thereby makes the journey for the viewer that much more enriching than mere enjoyable.

As the film moves on, the consequences of a depleting memory surface to test Grant while Fiona finds comfort and company in Aubrey, another ailing inmate in the facility, oblivious of her past affiliations and bindings. A period of insecurity and possessiveness consume him, which later transpires into a better understanding of the infinite complexities of human relationships. While Grant laments the look of unfamiliarity in Fiona’s eyes a tactile web of human emotions spins into motion. Without being opinionated in any way the film expresses its endorsement of human values and through a marvelous language of images convey the fear of isolation innate to humans. A work of passion by the director, Sarah Polly, ‘Away From Her’ will surely go down as one of the finest films on human relationships and connubial love I have ever seen.

Julie Christie has portrayed the central character to such precise perfection that she moves her audience to tears without being tearful herself. Her glazed blue eyes are so resplendent with an unearthy innocence that while watching the film one almost feels as helpless and cornered as her husband. Her infirmity is so obvious, yet so ostentatiously underplayed that nothing short of an Oscar would do justice to her moving rendition of an otherwise difficult character.

Gordon Pinsent is a figure of strength with his stoic acceptance of a tragic reality. Yet, he displays brilliance in scenes where he arrests the outpour of his spasmodic reactions in the face of piercing predicaments. One of the best performances of the previous year he might as well get a well deserved nomination for the ‘Best Supporting Actor’ category at the Oscars. I actually back Pinsent to bag the award for holding his own in the spate of an astounding piece of acting being delivered opposite to him, which if not belittling to say the least was more than intimidating in terms of pressure to perform his own brief.

An exceedingly well-made film which asks existentially relevant questions even to an average enthusiast, I will remember ‘Away From Her’ as one of the most beautiful films I ever watched. A film which promotes love and commitment and delivers the message of lasting togetherness that marriage as an institution bestows, the following conversation from it will remain imprinted in my mind forever (Alzheimer’s forbidding):

[ while leaving for her asylum Fiona asks Grant at their doorstep]

Fiona: How do I look ?

Grant: Just like always. Just as you always looked.

Fiona: And how does that look ?

Grant: Direct and vague. Sweet and ironic.

photo: google images

Murder of a Hope - The Light of Larkhana goes out

Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated in cold blood.

In one of the most shocking events ever in the history of the sub-continent the former Prime Minister of Pakistan was shot in the neck a few hours back while attending an election rally in the garrison town of Rawalpindi.

As violence erupts in the streets of Karachi and Peshawar following the news of her death the future of democracy in Pakistan gets bleaker by the hour. General Musharraf, who faces probing questions as to why the security of such a high-profile politician like Benazir was not taken up with utmost priority, having already survived a suicide-attack and repeated threats being made to her life by various Islamic militant organizations, will be hard-pressed to provide acceptable answers if any. With the suspension of the January 8^th elections looking imminent the ‘road to restoration of order’ in Pakistan seems beset with more unfortunate cataclysms than one had initially accounted for.

While Sindh mourns the death of a dear daughter, political analysts the world over see the attack as a consequence of the threat perception she embodied to the thriving ‘terror industry’ in provincial Punjab. She in her recent political rallies declared in no uncertain terms how she would do everything in her power to reign in terrorists operating from Pakistani soil. Given her charismatic persona and undeniable charm, coupled with the paucity of choice that an average Pakistani has while going to vote she seemed set to ensure a sizable number of seats for the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) in the coming elections. Popular sentiment could have worked in swaying the scale either in her favor or Nawaz Sharif’s. Her tragic death has unjustly precluded such an electoral eventuality. The pre-emption of her premiership in such ghastly a manner must ring alarm bells in far-off Capitol Hill right now. If the global community (read USA) is in any measure earnest in wanting to tackle the scum of Islamic extremism it needs to answer the call of the hour with immediate effect. Mere issue of official condolences will not suffice in stemming the rot that USA’s major ally in its ‘War against Terror’ is reeling under at this moment. Benazir’s shocking assassination is a macabre indicator of how desperate the militant forces are in resisting the revival of people’s rule in Pakistan. The International community must ensure the installation of a democratic government instead of a Musharraf stooge climbing to power by rigging polls only to serve his high-handed master. If a call is not taken now it might be too late for Pakistan to recover and repair for her loses. Not only will that be a colossal tragedy for the 60 million Pakistanis but a turn for the worse for the future of South-Asia and the prospects of World Peace in general.


Peace be to her soul.


photos: google images

Return of a Hero

More than eleven years ago in the middle of an English summer a gritty youngster took the field at Lord’s when the chips were down for his country. Batting with sublime poise at the grandest of stages that the game of cricket can offer to both players and spectators alike he scored a chanceless century braided with rare class. A repeat performance in the next test under conditions considered hostile to batsmen bred on docile dust-bowls in the sub-continent and the message was loud and clear. The message was,

“I have arrived.”

The very arrogance of that arrival never waned in a career which saw eleven eventful summers and is still to go some distance before coming to a natural halt, a graceful goodbye.

Sourav Chandidas Ganguly brought to Indian cricket a raw ruthlessness and an inspirational zeal hitherto unknown in these circles and galvanized a team into a formidable fighting unit. A captain known to possess an uncanny knack of spotting talent and nurturing them to the road to success, half of the present Indian team owes him his timely patronage and support. From Zaheer Khan to Harbhajan Singh, from Yuvraj Singh to Irfan Pathan every one was hand-picked during his regime. Not only did his tenure at the helm of affairs promote the blooding of ‘today’s stars’ it also lent a nonpartisan character to the much maligned ‘regional lobby’-culture which plagued Indian cricket from its inception. “Perform or Perish” was his mantra and in no time we were dreaming of new heroes emerging on the firmament of cricketing glory. The most successful captain of India, he was ousted amidst drama in the most preposterously unceremonious manner as a fallout of a bitter battle with the then-coach Greg Chappel.

We do not know to honor our heroes and it is not a tradition, here in India, to give ceremonial farewells to fatigued crusaders of past laurels. As a people inured to a system where power is preserved like private property and only parted with at death we did not even bother to issue an apology that was required of us in the wake of such crass injustice. Politics of the filthiest parochial order was unleashed and 'a leader' was made to wait on the sidelines for what seemed like an eternity to the lovers of the game.

But, time had its say. Tables turned in a manner only known to wheels in animated motion and Sourav was re-inducted into the team. What looked like an ‘impossibility’ going by the vituperative comments issued by cricketing microbes hanging onto power (like Kiran More, the then chief-of-selection-committee) were proven wrong and a rightful path to resurrection was paved for a Fallen Hero. What ensued is there for everyone to see. The cricketing field has turned to be a happy-hunting-ground for the indefatigable ‘Dada’ as he continues relishing the exploits of a ‘deep purple patch’ walking into the twilight of his long illustrious career.

Sourav Ganguly has regained his seat of eminence in cricketing discussions and this time not due to uncalled for controversies but, because of the murderous feats of his tireless willow.

Taking the field for his 100^th Test match he has today become only the seventh Indian ever to attain this honor. And what better place than the MCG on the day of the Boxing-day test match.

I wish him luck in his imperious march to more conquests on the cricket field.

Photos: Rediff.com

Taare Zameen Par - A Review

‘It’s easy to point out problems in this world. It’s difficult to offer solutions.’

The maiden directorial venture by Aamir Khan does ‘that’ difficult part with aplomb.

‘Taare Zameen Par’ revolves around the stifling pressures that a dyslexic child faces in our society, in our times. Ishaan Avasti ( Darsheel Safery) is like any fun loving kid who enjoys catching the odd fish from the gutters, keeps gawking at the mother-bird feeding her fledglings and pick up fights with the domineering bully of the pack when things become too unbearable. Yet, something makes him special. He sees the world through the colourful window of his mind. A fertile imagination gifts him with a creative edge he manifests through the interplay of colours in his paintings. Yet, something ails his progress in academics. Curiously, he mixes up all his spellings, can’t say a ‘d’ from a ‘b’ and ‘9 * 3’ is somehow 3 owing to some cosmic collision only his mind can conjure in its full imaginative inflation. Failure in exams ensues and parents get anxious. The apparent ploy to shirk studies seems to be the only plausible reason to them. Frustrated with umpteen attempts at correcting his ‘flaws’ and his habitual relapses he is sent to a boarding school. The sequence where his mother (Tisca Chopra) turns back to leave him at the mercy of the unfamiliar premises of the boarding school is so beautifully picturised, with the

heart rending delivery of “ kya itna buraa hoon main maa....” (by Shankar Mahadevan) playing in the background that I am sure there are few, if any, people who did not have a tear-drop gracing their eyes at that moment.

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Expectedly, boarding school only makes Ishaan a prisoner of the ‘conventional treatment’ that is meted out to non-performers in our education system. He blots out the cruel world and locks himself in a shell of desolation and pain. The portrayal of helplessness in a child on ‘not being understood’ by people around him is dispensed with a nuanced perfection found only in past masters of cinema. Aamir (along with Amole Gupte) donning the director’s hat for the first time has charmed with his exquisite timing and sensitivity in dealing with the subject which demanded a perceptive depiction along with artistic finesse.

Aamir enters the scene as an art-teacher in the dying moments of the first-half (albeit with a

clowning act with much fanfare which seemed tad redundant) and hopes of resurrection are ignited. Being a victim of dyslexia in his childhood, Aamir identifies the problem in Ishaan. He fights with the principal, and later convinces him that it is only a matter of time before Ishaan can compete with others with a little help and understanding. He devotes his time and energies to address the difficulties that Ishaan is facing and soon the boy shows marked improvement. An ‘Open to All Painting Competition’ becomes the culmination of the mutual success of the teacher-student pairing as Ishaan beats his teacher to bag the first-prize in the competition.

The whirlpool of emotions ranging from despair to joy, from rejection to relief attains a magical crescendo at the prize distribution ceremony. A tearful hug replete with unsaid words of gratitude and affection are so touching that one cannot help but give vent to one’s emotions, hiding in the darkness of the tiers to shed a few tears of empathy.

Repentant and reformed, Ishaan’s father takes him back to his home on a vacation wherefrom a happy ending starts. Both for Ishaan and his family, and Aamir, the teacher.

The smell of success and hope is palpable even when the credits roll.

Prasoon Joshi, take a bow. The ad-man has penned lyrics laden with pathos and a deep understanding of children’s psyche (he says he owes it to his little girl) that has an evocative appeal written all over it.

Shankar is breathtaking with his poignant renditions of songs like, “ tu sab jaanti hai.....hai na maa...” (MP3 provided above), “Mera jahaan...” and the title track.

The trio of Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy has again proved what good quality jamming can produce as the music of the film is a sure highlight which is poised to make a mark of it’s own in the coming days.

Aamir as a director has shown the class expected out of an outright perfectionist like him. The sensitive interpretation of the story is so seamlessly accomplished till the end that one cannot really put a finger on a flaw that glares in its nonconformity with the script. The occasional inclusion of a few ‘symbolic scenes’ (as when Aamir watches a mother and child on a bus) and the comic (but of doubtful necessity) entry of himself as the art-teacher were noticeably deletable. Otherwise, “Taare Zameen Par” is a winner.

Aamir has delivered a success.

Darsheel has outdone Aamir

The child artist has not only done justice to the troubled character he portrays with élan but also etched a niche of special recall within the deep recesses of our minds where childhood memories and their attendant anxieties recline in blissful languor of forgetfulness, almost untouched by the mechanically motivated lives we live. After watching the film every person sitting in the stands who has ever faced a similar problem in his childhood will come to associate Darsheel’s gawky features, his wide expressive eyes and that ear-to-ear grin with his memories and rejoice at his victory at the end of the film, though not his own. That is exactly where the film succeeds, in drawing the audience to think sympathetically on a socially relevant issue.

“Taare Zameen Par” lets everyone take something back to their homes from the theater. A sensitive heart receptive to other’s problems, responsive to a child’s troubles, understanding of a passing disability and most importantly, throbbing with a lasting sensation of triumph.

And to me, that’s cinema.

Good Cinema.

Bullets for that bubble-gum

The grisly inauguration of ‘gun-culture’ in India having been formally completed over a twelve year old’s body, the country is all abuzz with shock and consternation in no time.

But, didn’t we see it coming?

My answer is yes. We should have.

Moreover, if we fail to stem the rot with immediate effect ‘campus killings’ might get glamorized in no time in the coming future. Children fed on graphic images of blood and gore from a very tender age grow up to believe in the apparent acceptance of it in real society. Too much time spent on the virtual world of computers give them an entirely false impression about the ‘real’ world outside. Hence, when provocation, however minuscule, coupled with the juvenile indifference to restriction cloud their senses they choose violence as the form of apt retribution. Aiding these abettors in crime are factors like negligence and lack of attention from the parents’ end which slowly make the child attention-hungry. A chance to make the world stop and take note of you is but an extremely attractive proposition in those circumstances.

One incident of Abhishek Tyagi should act as an eye-opener to all of us before our university, college and school campuses become infested with psychopathic killers on the prowl. What’s most disturbing is the fact that the offender is said to have acted out of fear of his own life, owing to a previous death-threat by the victim to him.

Bullies are not a novel concept to schools and school-goers. Hence, the fact that a mere threat was perceived to be ‘real’ in nature and that the boy really thought that the victim could actually deliver on his threat is the point of measured consideration. Two twelve year olds taking a ‘death-threat’ seriously and acting upon it in a pre-emptive manner is something that the society as a whole must deliberate upon with grave concern.

Are guns becoming too easily available? Well, if you talk of Bihar, Jharkhand, UP (and lately our own Nandigram) the answer is “yes”. But by meaning ‘availability to the urban populace who apparently have no use of it’ one would say “yes” at the risk of being labeled an outright alarmist. So, should every parent wait till there are more reports of kids getting shot by their friends before they trash that ‘Resident Evil’ or ‘God of War’ cd? The answer is anybody’s call.

But, the future in case of unrestricted exposure of children to violence does seem gloomy from here. Our indulgent eye might be met with terrifying images when, five years from now, a DU or a CU campus might see a depressed maniac or a disgruntled lover on the rampage. Only this time there might not be a petty revolver in his hand. He might be wielding a blood-thirsty Kalashnikov, fully loaded.

And he might not turn out to be as saintly as our own Sanju baba.

Photo: from gettyimages.com

Going the Modi Way

As the run-up to the Gujarat election treats the avid onlooker to myriad antics that politics in India so regularly has to offer, the perceptive cannot help but voice concern over the recent incidents.

The raging debate over the incendiary speech that Narendra Modi gave the other day at an election rally in Gujarat has made it to the headlines the nation over. The political motive to polarize the electorate on the basis of faith is blatantly naked and compellingly unacceptable. There can never be enough justification for a Chief Minister of a state baying for the blood of ‘terrorists’, the allusion being too transparent to be deciphered with any difficulty. That the speech was a fitting reply to the Congress President’s ‘merchant of death’ remark wouldn’t even fool a schoolboy in Surat. But then, this isn’t about political affiliations (I assure that I have none. I only side with the ‘relative right’, though I admit that it is becoming increasingly difficult to find even marginal sanity in the present political spectrum). It is about reviewing the direction in which Gujarat is headed. It is about posing questions about the political expediency of a communal riot. It is about asking the average Gujarati what he/she wants. And for how long.

One can understand the atmosphere of insecurity and fear in which the previous Assembly election in Gujarat was held. It was within a year from the riots that had devastated the state and the air was thick with tension like never before. It was apparent from the landslide victory of the BJP that the communally charged propaganda had reaped rich dividends. But, four years is a lot of time. Things have moved, if not at a brisk pace, and living in the past is a fruitless exercise that no sensible Gujarati would approve of. The ‘healing touch’ has not been provided to the Muslims in Gujarat and understandably so. In an age of political opportunism where mass-sentiments are stoked for bagging electoral benefits, if the continued vilification of an 11% minority can churn out victory after victory in elections let it be so. No pangs of morality (whoever said that of politicians!). No bouts of compunction.

Milking religious sentiments for staying in power suffers from ‘the laws of diminishing returns’ though, and it might manifest its most unpleasant facets to the saffron brigade not before long. The BJP might win this election in Gujarat on the ‘Religion’ poll-plank but it might have few takers at the national level, where functional coalitions have become an accepted reality. The NDA- already a shrinking pool of regional parties might collapse if the shutters of the ‘Hindutva’ laboratory are not pulled down fast in Gujarat. Fully aware of its political compulsions, the BJP keeps pursuing its old trusted ‘ideals’ out of utter desperation and strategic vacuum. Its emphasis on a Modi-centric campaign, disregarding dissension within the ranks only attests to that helplessness. But, thinking apolitically, I wonder how the Gandhinagar textile merchant would vote this time around. Whom the Saurasthra farmer will settle for. Which way the Surat-diamond merchants would sway.

All these people who do a service to the Commerce of this nation every single day by being devoted to their enterprise; will they realize how they are being made to applaud the Emperor’s clothes of ‘Muslim extremism’ for too long. Will they wake up to the fact that for one Muslim terrorist there is also a thousand hard-working people of his creed who share nothing with the former except their prayer timings? Will they realize that it is only ignorance, poverty and misinformation that barricades the members of the ‘other faith’ and impedes their path to a better life?

A sensitive revision of the situation is the need of the hour in Gujarat.

It is the responsibility of every Gujarati to issue a timely reminder to all political parties that they cannot be misled into believing in ghosts of the past forever. Being the harbingers of progress that they are, one can bank on their sound judgment.

In matters of trade.

In matters of life.

Photo: Courtesy: Yahoo.com