Revolution.

I return after a long hiatus. A lot has changed since I last opened blogger. In my life as well as in that of the world and this country. Everyone is aware of what happens in the world. This is the age of those who live life in the fast lane, after all. And no one gives a rat's ass about how everything's shaping up in the Beanp_ole's life. So I'm not going to do what all returning-bloggers do, rant about how they were naive when they entered college and how they're now guided by Prometheus' fire itself.

This is going to be about the Lokpal Bill and is directed towards two rather disjoint sets of people:

1. Those who support the anti-corruption movement without understanding it.

To be counted as one of the many who belong to this group of people, you need only have bought convenience from your local traffic policeman, local MLA(by voting for him in return), license tout, auto-driver, hostel attendant, college admin clerk or even your professor once in your life. Because for every Government official accepting a bribe, there's a civil society member paying it. You don't need to embezzle funds to feed cattle that don't exist or buy licenses for providing telephonic services (that you can't support anyway) on the cheap to be called corrupt. And no amount of "liking" Facebook pages or signing online petitions can undo this.

I will feel that I've achieved something if this post goes on to explain the matter. Because in most cases you didn't care to read what the wiki page or the petition or the note your friend tagged you in actually said. I will, therefore, include links to some of the pieces that require reading.

2. Those who are ready to engage in a constructive debate without casting aspersions on the integrity or motive of others.

First things first, here is a draft of v2.1 of the Jan Lokpal Bill as proposed by members of the India Against Corruption movement as an overhaul of the variant presented by the Government.

Now, it wouldn't be fair to expect everyone to read that document in its entirety. This Scribd document provides an analysis of the Lokpal Bill. Also, here is a (much) shorter version of what the Jan Lokpal Bill proposes for those who bleed blue but don't.

The bill and the movement have inspired commentary and discussion in mainstream media and on social platforms. There is support as well as disagreement from all economic, political and social strata of the society.

Bloggers who support Anna Hazare's movement:

Why is Anna Hazare's 'misguided' fast important?
Why I am protesting, by fasting today...

Anna Hazare's fight against corruption! Why should you care?

MERA NETA CHOR HAI - Chetan Bhagat(Ok, this one was just for laughs and the put- badge-of-latest-fad-on-my-Facebook-profile brigade.)

Bloggers who are against the movement and/or the Lokpal Bill:

Of the few, by the few(Pratap Bhanu Mehta, the President of the Center for Policy Research)

Against the Jan Lok Pal and the politics of hunger strikes(Nitin Pai, for whom I have the utmost respect.)

On Anna Hazare's fast(Rohan Joshi, another objective columnist)

Jan Lok Pal - Caveat Emptor

Anna Hazare's misguided fast

A bill to end corruption? Really? Who are we kidding?

Anna Hazare, the Lokpal Bill and the Red Brigade

Bloggers who are undecided and/or provide other key inputs:

Dodging the drafts(PRS Legislative Research)
ENOUGH(B Raman, Director of the Institute for Topical Studies)

After reading through all this the main talking points appear to be the Gandhian philosophy of the movement(often termed coercive) and some of the clauses of the bill itself.

An increasing number of experts believe that the manner in which the movement is being carried out is undemocratic. Their argument is that while Gandhi was fighting against an imperialist power, the public today is trying to pressure a Government they voted to the helm themselves. Fair point. But so what? Should a Government, that has a post-election alliance as its foundation, be allowed to do as it pleases for its entire term? At the risk of being called an anarchist and/or an elitist, I ask, should politicians be allowed to have their own way just because most of the rural population that voted was given TV sets and in some cases, mixer grinders? A common rebuttal is "a people deserves the Goverment it gets". And this is where I disagree with Lincoln. Democracy is based on the false conviction that there are extraordinary capabilities in ordinary men. And honestly, is there no room for protest in a democratic India?

While I agree that the bill is not perfect in any way, it is downright stupid to rubbish it completely. The process of selecting the Lokpal, what needs to be done with the recovered losses are some issues that require greater deliberation. Amendments need to be made to the draft. Edges need to be smoothened. But the bill is closer to being a diamond than a piece of charcoal. The movement's spirit needs to be appreciated and other technicalities worked out so that it benefits everyone.

Finding a way to eradicate this malaise that afflicts the entire structure from top to down is of greater importance. And the inbuilt urge to buy convenience at the drop of the hat among most Indians is what makes this task tough (Sisyphean, as some might claim).

Most commentators who do not agree with Anna Hazare see 'voting for change' as the only solution to this problem. The carrot and stick treatment needs to be meted out. "Vote the corrupt out, every time, again and again until parties get the message. Vote!", as Nitin Pai says. This basically translates to UPA, BJP, UPA, BJP, UPA... I agree with that suggestion in all its spirit, but we live in a dystopian world where things rarely work out the way they should. Which brings me to some of the questions I want to ask them: Can the entire Indian polity just change the way it votes at the blink of an eye? And if it can, then why hasn't it happened already since we're all so progressive and insightful and well-meaning? How can someone bring fruit to this Arcadian fantasy(root out caste based voting, etc.), if given the responsibility and wherewithal?

Saying that India would have a better Government if everyone voted is like saying that India would be a member of the OPEC if everyone of us started working at an oil rig. That is how serious the lack of dependable leaders in our political system is.

In the hope that more informed gentlemen will give an amended bill a chance and progress will be made after the first steps have been taken, I rest my case in support of the movement. Comments, arguments and criticism are welcome.

P.S. All those who aren't interested in all this can find refuge here. Lennon had the uncanny habit of capturing the mood of the time.

The Guy in the Glass

Something interesting I came across, first a few years back and again quite recently.

When you get what you want in the struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day,
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what the guy has to say.

For it isn't your mother, or your father,
Whose judgement on you must pass,
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the guy staring back from the glass.

He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest
For he's with you clean to the end;
And you've passed your most dangerous and difficult test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.

You may be like Jack Horner and chisel a plum
And think you are a wonderful guy,
But the guy in the glass says you are a bum
If you can't look him straight in the eye.

You may fool the whole world
Down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass;
But the final reward will be heart aches and tears
If you've cheated the guy in the glass.

The cacophony that religion is

I am irritated as hell and it’s got nothing to do with the general state of affairs around me, the BJP’s implosion, the weather or the creative hate mail on my posts. My frayed nerves are the result of the surrounding cacophony attacking my ears which has left my brain in permanent vibrator mode (that may explain this bewildering blog).

Last week I got a case of the sniffles. Nothing serious, just seasonal flu, which escalated my irritability levels by a few megahertz. So, early Saturday morning, as I lay in my bed(at home) cursing the world and its viruses, my peaceful reverie(an indication that I was not in the hostel, a place where nothing is ever peaceful, and you can accord that to the unusually small bed that I've got. Sleep, thus is a precious quantity. Twisted muscles of the neck aren't!) was interrupted by a violent clanging sound from the vicinity. A quick investigation from the window showed someone looking remarkably like a priest banging a metal plate outside the temple.

Apparently, it’s some new custom copied from neighbourhood schools to lure in devotees and torture every other soul who doesn’t believe in paying obeisance to the gods. My frantic and angry gestures from the balcony asking him to keep it down only escalated the volume and the situation(and my hatred towards God's own man's undiluted act of schedenfreude).

That brings me to a question, the answer to which I seek in all earnest: Why do all religions have to be so loud about their daily rituals? It’s a sensitive topic so I’ll have to tread lightly, lest I get lynched by some religious zealots on my way back to Bawana Land come Monday morning. I also know that temples, gurdwaras and mosques won’t tone down the volume because a certain short-tempered blogger has got the flu. That’s just wishful thinking.

Day in and day out, these places of worship scream their devotion all over the country. I don’t know for sure, but I have a strong feeling that God is not deaf. The priests, however, always turn a deaf ear to these sentiments. Perhaps all these priests and clerics have a secret deal with the ENT specialists of the country. You scratch my back and I’ll send you the hearing impaired.

Another theory could be that these gentlemen want to make the somewhat less devout feel guilty about not going to the temple. If I was in their place, I’d change tactics… this is only driving away the remaining atheists.

Then there are the jagarans(no, not the ones you generally associate with exams). It would seem that the gods are more alert at night. Therefore, screaming your lungs out after midnight is supposed to get you closer to moksha. I believe the Supreme Court has some guidelines about noise levels (religious or otherwise) after 9 pm. Unfortunately, this being a topic of faith, you won’t find too many people willing to take on a mob to uphold a law, yours truly included.

So, how does one sleep when a thousand tone-deaf people are shrieking out devotional songs in unison a few metres from your house. Simple. Invest in ear buds, put pillows over instead of under your head and spend thousands in soundproofing your house. The other option: shift home. Although I doubt the second option is practicable. Religious is ubiquitous, you see.

Another thing I’ve noticed (and I am moving into the rounded-up-and-beatean-up-risk zone again) is that few of these harmless devotees are aware of the harm they are doing to music lovers in the neighbourhood. It’s not just the decibel levels that leave you grimacing, but the murder of melody. Tansen and his ilk must be turning in their grave. I think I should record this mass murder and sell it to the CIA. After Abu Ghraib they must have been looking for new ways to torment prisoners.

Anyway, I need to go and have a man-to-man conversation with the neighbourhood priest. If I cant’t get him to pipe down, at least I can spread some seasonal flu and God-willing give him a sore throat. Just hope I don’t have to participate in a jagaran to get God to listen to me.

Pray!

Of forward thinking and blackmailing

I am going to die within the next 2 days. Why? Well, I kinda forgot to forward a boring forward to some even more boring people. The result: I am as good as dead. Just counting the days, folks.

Readers who have often grimaced with pain after reading my torturous attempts at humour will no doubt be rejoicing at the news of my impending demise. Hold your horses, friends. Apparently, there are some doubts about the credibility of these fatalistic forwards. A ray of hope for a dying man, but I cling to it with my entire body mass index.

Some of you may just be nodding furiously in agreement. After all, these irritating forwards can well be mistaken for email threats from al-Qaida. Come to think of it, I wonder if their terrorists also get such forwards. What a great way to terrorize the terrorist. If I could get hold of Osama bin Laden’s email ID, I’d definitely send him the sob story about a man ditched by his wife because he spent too much time with the other 39 in his harem. “Oye Osama, if you don’t forward this to at least 40 other al-Qaida members in the next 5 minutes, something horrible is going to happen to you…like an encounter with a heat-seeking missile looking for some serious terrorist booty”. Sigh! Wishful thinking!

Truth is, I am something of a serial forwarder. While I avoid terrorizing friends with the goody-goody sob-story emails, I am a sucker for jokes. But even an Internet-addicted, always-forwarding geek like me knows when to draw the line. Sometimes I think even spam from Nigerians asking for money on behalf of some long-lost intolerable relative is acceptable rather than a forward asking me to show my good side and passing it on to others.

I still remember the first forward I received. I got a forward from a friend that dealt with how I was just about to get lucky. Oblivious to the fact that this was a “forward” that someone had sent me to save his/her arse, and was not in anyway a synonym of “Godspeed”, I replied to the sender. Yes, I didn’t know shit from sugar then.

Now, they all begin with something like “I got this mail and I swear it works….” I swear too, at the forwarder I mean. Then the emails proceed to show you dreams of a financial windfall. They usually ask you to do something stupid like putting a coin on your nose and screaming ‘show me the money’. And just as the gullible oaf inside you starts hoping for a solution to beat recession, there comes the catch: Forward this to 50 people in 5 minutes and you could make millions. Forward it to 5 people in 10 minutes and you’ll get a new car free with a house in the suburbs of some congested, polluted city. Not forwarding is not an option. OK maybe it is, if you want to commit suicide. Cyber blackmail, I tell you!

It’s not like I didn’t try it. Before I caught on to what these fiendish forwarders were up to, I would often fall in the trap of selfish emailing. But I am still waiting for my millions.

I am going to rub a lot of people the wrong way with this tirade but who cares. After all I’m going to die because of these very same people?

Oh and yes, before I forget, forward this blog to a minimum 50 of your friends in the next 5 milliseconds or you’ll lose your sense of humour.

A trip down memory lane: Kasauli

You don't always need a sea for a change. Sometimes, 77 kilometres is more than enough.

Far away from chokehold of commercialised Shimla lies the quaint little town of Kasauli. Tucked away in a quiet hill of Himachal Pradesh and hidden and protected from vicious tourists and business minded gentry, this less known hill-station has all it takes for anyone to have an unadulterated experience of pure beauty. At 6,000 feet, adorned with tall and slender pine trees and the perennial burst of wild and ornamental flowers, Kasauli sure drugs the visitor with its scenic beauty and cooler climes. Lack of commercialization, and the fact that you can't buy land, seems to have no correlation with the eating joints here and perhaps this is what makes this place so stunning.

Kasauli is easily accessible by both road and rail. The nearest airport is at Chandigarh. Situated at a distance of around 325 km from New Delhi, the hill resort can be easily reached by hiring a bus or a taxi, from the inter-state bus terminals (ISBT). Buses, taxis and coaches are ready for hire from Chandigarh and Kalka as Kasauli lies en route to Shimla and the upper Himalayas. But I would suggest taking the toy train from Kalka, which is a one of it's kind experience when you travel with the hills and rich flora as companions and steep gorges as adversaries. These trains run in sync with the Kalka Mail that arrives at Kalka early morning each day. For Kasauli, you would have to get down at Dharmpur.

The town, that turned into a convalescent home for British nationals when they stemmed the growth of the ever-increasing hold of the Gurkhas in 1814, can easily cure writers, shutterbags, nature-lovers and birdwatchers of all their fastidious ailments and still leave them gasping for more. It's no surprise that the famous Indian author, Khushwant Singh often takes refuge in Kasauli whenever he wants his creative juices to get flowing.

Kasauli is far from being your archetypal hill station (although you still have Tibetians selling their wares!). It is small and can be traversed almost entirely on foot. It has a central area encompassed by two major roads- Upper Mall and Lower Mall. The Lower Mall has the bus stand and some shops, a photo studio and a departmental store. As you go higher up, a labyrinthine intersection of narrow roads takes you to the Upper Mall or to the children's park, Sanatorium and further on to the TV tower unfurling a couple of trekkable roads going further beyond. The Upper Mall - which is closer to the urban definition of a mall - is a small by-lane studded with stones with an amalgamation of small sweets shops, toy shops, a couple of shoe shops and the only barber shop of Kasauli.

Places to visit are few and far between in a place like Kasauli that is still nestled in the days of yore. Of greenery. Of peace. And most notably, of less concrete. At the juncture of the two Malls lies the "Church of England", a nineteenth century church built for the soldiers of the British garrison. At the end of the Upper Mall, sitting atop the Gilbert Hill, is Gilbert House, built as home to the first Brigadier of Kasauli. The bungalow today, hosts the current Brigadier. And according to lore, Gilbert's ghost is still 'seen' venturing out in the premises. Also named after Gilbert is the Gilbert trail, one of the numerous treks fraught with danger at every step and at every climb or descent. The odd hornet's sting or a wild plant's prick is bearable when weighed against the unmitigated beauty one witnesses on every bend. On it's way up the Upper Mall also lies the 120 year old Kasauli club, a sprawling complex with facilities to satiate any socialite. About 4 km from the Mall lies the Monkey/Manki point, an Air Force base that is known more for being home to notorious monkeys. Visitors are thus thoroughly frisked and not allowed to carry anything, and for more reasons than one! As you tread upon the direction the masses have taken, you will see a colourful temple perched on the top of a steep hill. However, it's your call whether you want to take the precipitous climb or not. Not far from Kasauli is the famous Lawrence School, Sanawar, one of the most famous boarding schools of the country.

Such a beautiful place, Kasauli's exquisiteness lies in its laid back nature. Look anywhere; shoot from any angle; or take any road through the whispering pines on both sides, the place has a naturally reassuring ambiance that, in a way -- I sure stumbled upon this feeling -- permeates into the skin and balms the soul.

P.S. : The credit for the first picture(and in fact, for the entire trip goes to Arjit Arora who will soon be here to revel in his day of glory!)

The Godfather: A Review

If there was ever a book that hasn't fallen short of my sometimes-unreasonably-high expectations, it would have to be The Godfather, one of the most widely read and revered books of all time. The plot of the novel is intriguing, the conversation and the plots so involving. The author, Mario Puzo, an American with Italian roots lays bare the strong Sicilian spirit coupled with the supreme importance given to family values and unity. The protaganist's life is a testimony to the fact that circumstances go a long way in shaping the life one lives.

The novel spans several generations of the Corleone family, going as far back as the turn of the century in Sicily. The book is a riveting page-turner, with little plot lines jutting out from the principal one - Don Vito Corleone, with three grown sons, struggles to keep the Corleone "Family" together and strong. Don Vito is a fascinating character to both the novel's internal characters and to its readers. He is a family man, a man of honor, brave, intelligent, and loved. He is also the leader of one of the strongest mafia clans in the world. The book is inter-sparsed with instances where the Don pulls strings to help his faithful. He has three sons and a daughter- Sonny, the eldest, Fredo, Michael, the youngest and Constantia Corleone. Elder brothers Sonny and Fredo are soldiers in the organization and Sonny is the most feared enforcer in New York. His adopted brother Tom Hagen is the lawyer who handles the financial details of the family business. Young Michael was different from the others in his family. He wants a queit and an honest life with Kay Adams, with whom he falls in love at college.

The story starts with Constantia's wedding reception. Scattered around are such luminaries as legendary hit man Luca Brasi, world-famous singer Johnny Fontane, and Mafia capo Dominic Clemenza alongwith scores of people who literally worship the Don. After the reception, Don Vito, Sonny, and Tom, meet with Virgil Sollozzo, a drug smuggler who wants them to become partners in his business. Though Sollozzo offers attractive terms, Don Vito, who considers drug trafficking to be too dangerous and against his morals, rejects the offer. When, a few days later, the Don is cut-down and seriously wounded by a pair of assassins, the violent Sonny is tapped to take the reigns of the family and vows to avenge his father.

In the midst of the resultant gang-war, "college-boy" Michael, to the surprise of all, volunteers to kill Sollozzo and Captain McCluskey, his police protection. Meeting with the two in a small restaurant, Michael slays them both with a hidden pistol. Michael is then exiled to Sicily by his own father to protect him from the police. And this is where Michael undergoes a complete transformation.

Meanwhile, all the five "families" of New York are engulfed into a war that leads to widespread bloodshed. One of the sons of the Tattaglia family is killed and very soon, Sonny too gets killed while he, in a fit of rage, decides to set his erring brother-in-law right. This forces the Don to call truce and in the bargain, arranges for Michael's return to America.

When the Don is finally felled by a heart attack and Fredo is sent to consolidate the family's power in Las Vegas, Michael is called upon to take control of the family business and take revenge on his enemies.

And the rest as they say, is history..

In every crevice of the story, the reader finds patterns of betrayal causing tragedy to make for a rich buildup of plot and suspense. This marriage of two dark themes makes a story that is a must for any serious reader.

War of the words

While there are some who invent imaginative new words thereby contributing to the art of making language richer, there are others who self-appointedly sit on language monitoring committees to monitor the influx of new words and decide which new words deserve an entry in the hallowed English dictionaries. Who gavith them the right?

And then there is the Indian media, suffering from severe lack of sense of discrimination, which starts drooling with excitement whenever anything remotely connected to Indian cultural landmass gets approval from westerners. A press release by a little-known American company that makes money by monitoring new media for mentioning its clients, announcing the crowning of one millionth word should ordinarily have been brushed aside without a thought, but the inclusion of two words having an India-connection (Slumdog & Jai Ho) was enough enticement for our media to treat a publicity gimmick by a private company as yet another shining example of India's cultural impact on the world.

Would we have stopped using the words Slumdog or Jai Ho had this monitoring agency not included these words in its expanding list? Has our national pride suffered a dent because Slumdog is listed at 9,99,997 and not at 10,00,000? If not, why do such crappy crowning ceremonies conferring chance celebritiness to accidental new words become news?

As a response to such senseless pandering to juvenile fancies, I too have created my own list of new words and phrases that deserve an entry in the English dictionary.

Countupation - (noun - Counting clowns) - The silly and absolutely pointless occupation of keeping a count of new inclusions of items in a given branch of knowledge that are indelineatable due to lack of accepted and clear-cut criteria for inclusion or exclusion of such items in that branch of knowledge.

Languappropriate - Attempt to appropriate or assume pseudo-control/ownership of an entire language through insidious means such as setting up a language monitoring company, unauthorizedly taking up the role of deciding which words deserve an inclusion in official lexicon and pompously crowning words arbitrarily with meaningless titles.

Authoreverence - (reverence or worship of authority) Obsessive obeisance by mainstream media to traditional institutions of authority or institutions pretending to be institutions of authority (like Oxford English Dictionary, Global Language Monitor etc) while ignoring the contribution of popular barometers (such as Urbandictionary.com which boasts a dictionary of 4 million words) to the profusion of new words and phrases.

(National) Gloryearning - Excessive yearning or hankering for national glory. Often exhibited by media by giving over-importance to international competitions of no significance, and by treating every international contest featuring any person, product or an abstract idea related to the nation, however tangential the relation might be, as a matter of national pride and glory.

How this bill doesn't fit the bill

In what is being termed as India’s equivalent of the Suffrage Movement and the Maputo Protocol, the UPA Government has now promised reservation for women at each level of legislative decision-making, starting with the Lok Sabha, down to state and local legislatures in its 100-day action plan. The measure is a throwback to erstwhile Congress Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi's move in 1992 to earmark 33% of all seats for women in panchayats.

If the Bill is passed, one-third of the total available seats would be reserved for women in national, state, or local governments. In continuation of the existing provisions already mandating reservations for scheduled caste and scheduled tribes, one-third of such SC and ST candidates must be women.

The proposed legislation to reserve 33.3 percent seats in Parliament and state legislatures for women was drafted first by the H D Deve Gowda-led United Front government, introduced in the Lok Sabha on September 12, 1996. Though it has been introduced in Parliament several times since then, the Bill could not be passed because of lack of political consensus.

It looks like it is incumbent on political parties to score political brownie points by using the much talked about instrument of reservations. The issue of reservations has been a thorn in the side of every government since Independence. Why? Because, it a principle that is fundamentally wrong. And in order to implement a fundamentally wrong principle, one has to devise numerous irrational laws and devices to cloak the ugly core of the principle. A lie has to be covered with other lies. That's why reservation is a thorn.

What does one do when a thorn is stuck in one's foot? He plucks it out. And when are we plucking out the thorn of reservations? At present, it only looks like the policy-makers of the nation are only bent upon driving the thorn further into the foot.

The idea of reservations originated first in attempts to correct historical wrongs. That it doesn't accomplish that in any way, only aggravates differences between different 'groups' of people is a totally different issue. The concept of reservations is now being expanded to include current perceptions of injustice to certain sections of society, more precisely that section which is made of people of a particular sex, women.

Studies have proved that competitive pressures such as trade and deregulation reduce discrimination against women in the job market. That private companies, not cosseted by the Government, tend to choose the best talent without any prejudice is also a testimony to the fact that merit begets respect and opportunity.

This Bill takes away the democratic right of 33% of the electorate (22 crore people) to elect their representatives and restricts the choice of both men and women in those constituencies. The state has no right to limit the pool of representatives available to the public to choose from. It violates the right to equality guaranteed in the constitution. This is against all democratic principles of free choice. It will lead to significant upheavals and instability in Indian polity, with MPs being forced to shuffle constituencies in almost every election. An inability to nurture their constituency and further reduce accountability is thus, what we get.
The Bill sacrifices merit and experience of seasoned law makers and will further divide the country on gender lines. It suggests a rotation system which would be determined by draw of lots, in such a manner that a seat would be reserved only once in a block of three general elections. This is a serious flaw, insofar as it mechanically provides for entry of women members to fill one-third of vacancies in Lok Sabha and Vidhan Sabhas. This subverts the democratic process which is all about free choice vis-à-vis a mechanical action/ process.
The concept of reservation is an insult to women and their capability and perpetuates gender discrimination. Moreover, there are no measures to make sure that the benefits are received by the socially backward and underprivileged women, who really need them. It is hard to imagine how a normal woman who is brilliant, patriotic and honest and has the will to bring about change would be able to benefit from this move. Going through the labyrinthine and tedious, if not only useless, procedure of party politics is not the best way of ensuring that we get motivated leaders. And how individual candidates just serve to make up the numbers is there for all to see. There are no objective criteria to prevent the elite class or “creamy layer” of women from taking undue and unfair advantage of this legislation.

India is a vast country that is multi-cultural, multi-ethic, multi-lingual and with several groups, castes, sub-castes etc. Apart from beating the drum for reservations in general, the implementation of this bill would lead to more demands from various groups and sections of society for similar representation and it would be an open invitation for politicization of the representative form of Indian democracy. It will be a death blow to representation through constituencies.

In India, a man is presumed to be superior to a woman, not because of considerations of merit of thought, but by anatomical considerations. And the enforcement of such belief-systems upon women is carried out by persuasion, blackmail, threat of physical violence and sometimes direct bodily or psychological injury. So fighting such stupid beliefs should form the core of those want to uplift conditions of women. Education and removal of old 'anti-women' concepts and strict law enforcement can make a woman walk confidently on the streets. And achieve what she wants without help or interference from any external sources. If such conditions ensue, why will women ask for reservations?

Yet the proponents of the Womens' Reservation Bill propose to fight injustice with injustice. They are feeding the prejudices of the patriarchal sections of society by supporting such a bill. They want to plant puppets like Rabri Devi in 182 seats in Parliament and gloat over their victory in their struggle for 'equal opportunities' with men.

This bill is short-sighted, unconstitutional, undemocratic and discriminatory.

Do give it fair thought before branding me a misogynist.

(And no, I’m not exactly Lalu Prasad Yadav’s fan!)

Much ado about nothing

Finance geeks would tell you that the current financial crisis began when investors lost confidence in the value of securitized mortgages in the US resulting in a liquidity crisis that, in turn, caused a substantial injection into financial markets by the US Federal Reserve. They'll talk about mortgages, sub primes, leveraging, shadow banking, swaps and all those things that are part of their holy argot!

Now, a story in English.

"I was the proprietor of a bar(theka?) in Bawana. In order to increase sales, I decided to allow my loyal customers(and friends!) - most of whom were unemployed(as of then) alcoholics - to drink then, but pay later. I kept track of the drinks consumed on a ledger (thereby granting the customers loans). Word got around and as a result, the footfall at the Boulevard of thy 'Highness' went up just as the madness is at the Santiago Bernabeu. Taking advantage of my customers’ freedom from immediate payment constraints, I increased my prices for vodka and beer, the most-consumed beverages. My sales volumes(and of innumerable bellies) increased massively.

A young and dynamic customer service consultant at the local bank(Students' Bank acknowledging Inebriation) recognised these customer debts(and no the customers) as valuable future assets and increased my borrowing limit. He saw no reason for undue concern since he had the debts of the alcoholics(and their impending pay packets, which were presumably 'high') as collateral.

At the bank’s corporate headquarters, expert bankers transformed these customer assets into DRINKBONDS, ALKBONDS and PUKEBONDS. These securities were then traded on markets worldwide. No one really understood what these abbreviations meant and how the securities were guaranteed. Nevertheless, as their prices continuously climbed, the securities became top-selling items.

One day, although the prices were still climbing, a risk manager (subsequently of course fired due to his ubiquitous negativity) of the bank decided that slowly the time had come to demand payment of the debts incurred by the drinkers at my bar. However, they could not pay back the debts. I could not fulfill my loan obligations and claimed bankruptcy. DRINKBOND and ALKBOND dropped in price by 95%. PUKEBOND performed better, stabilizing in price after dropping by 80 %(for reasons unknown to all concerned).

The suppliers of my bar, having granted me generous payment due dates and having invested in the securities(if you could call them that) were faced with a new situation. My vodka supplier claimed bankruptcy, my beer supplier was taken over by a competitor.

In the meanwhile, Changu and Mangu, next door neighbours in the basti and owners of competing bars had also thought that this way of conjuring money - where there existed none - had the nascent ability to propel them to 'ultra-richdom'. That the tables had turned on them was all over bar the shouting. They, just like yours' truly, also got beat by the greed game.

The bank was saved by the Government following dramatic round-the-clock consultations by leaders(again, if you can call them that) from the governing political parties. The funds required for this purpose were obtained by a tax levied on the non-drinkers."

Yeah, let's keep the game simple!

Insanity rules? Ok!

Much as I am dejected by India's loss in the 20-20 World Cup, after our surprise elimination from the tournament we were expected to win, what bothers me much more is the way aspersions are cast on the team. What bothers me is that national dailies - which boast of having on board, the game's stalwarts and insightful columnists - run headlines like 'Team lets nation down' and 'Captain cool or captain lose?'.

The dominant reactions to the defeat seem to be one of anger and betrayal. Anger is a complicated emotion. It's not clear what causes and is caused by anger. There are broadly two methods that people employ to vent their anger. More sophisticated of these are acerbic rants, while others are unabashed physical gestures.

Let's say there are two categories of anger: personal and impersonal. The former is caused by things that have immediate relevance to you (your newspaper delivery boy is lazy) and the later by things with no or very little relevance to you (your friend's newspaper delivery boy is lazy). To be sure, this is not very well defined, but I am concentrating one one single aspect which will be clearer.

Both these angers are perfectly justifiable. The crucial difference between them is what you do about it. First there are some absolute limits on what you can do. For instance, you can't destroy the home of the newspaper boy. Within those limits, personal anger gives you more scope for action. You can fire your newspaper boy. But the impersonal anger almost never permits action. While you can urge your friend to fire his newspaper boy, you can't do so yourself.

The anger generated in many fans by Indian team's loss is impersonal. This is the case even though it may be true that the team's performances are key to many of the fans' happiness. This impersonal anger surely allows for serious criticism, but much of what we see today is unwarranted. Here is where the thin line of difference between the anger and the betrayel gets blurred. It has to be remembered: the Indian team is not responsible to its fans. (That a fan needs to stand by his team in hours of victory and defeat can be left unsaid in the current climes anyway.) This might sound sacrilegious in today's atmosphere of affected jingoism, but it is true. If the Indian team has the power to cause a fan intense shame and misery, that power is given to them by the fan. The team did not ask for it. The fan can take that power away from the cricketers if he wishes. The fact that cricketers make insane amounts of money is not germane to the issue. Neither is it correct to argue that a cricketer's basking in the glory when he does well requires him to take the obscenities thrown at him when he doesn't. The Indian cricket team does not represent India's pride. Anyone purporting to derive national glory or shame on the basis of cricket team's results is a fool. (Take note, Hero-Honda, Pepsi and others of the ilk!)

It seems to me that this whole affair is symptomatic of a disturbing trend that is emerging in India. Many of the new habits and practices are characterized by instant gratifications and even more instant disillusionment. Shortsightedness isn't just prevalent, it is rampant. Gone in the process are the balancing convictions afforded either by ancient culture, or a thorough education. This is apparent everywhere one sees. In cricket, a player is lifted to the sky after a handful of good performances and his effigies are burnt after a single bad show. Whether it is the national obsession with daily junk on television, or the eager rush to modify education to suit the immediately visible needs, what seems to drive people today is the expedience of the moment.

Does insanity rule?

Think.

Can pigs fly?

Can pigs fly? I think not. But how can I be so sure? If I’m pigheaded enough, I can start throwing pigs off a cliff and after an agreed upon number of pigs have turned to pork down below, I can say with almost certainty that porcine flight is impossible. The downside to this method is not that too many pigs are killed to prove a point, but that for believers of flying pigs, too few will have been tested before we, considered as anti-flying pig bigots, come to a conclusion. (‘The next one could have been the pig, you know.’)

Another way to prove that pigs don’t fly could be to read the scriptures, the law if you will. For instance, if those awaiting proof are believing Christians, then the tactic could be to read out Chapter 8 Verse 32 of the Book of Matthew in the Bible: “And he said unto them, Go. And when they were come out, they went into the herd of swine: and, behold, the whole herd of swine ran violently down a steep place into the sea, and perished in the waters.” Not one pig fluttered to safety there.

The downside to this method is that it’s fundamentally stupid: to gather a fact by what’s simply mentioned in a fable, no matter how sacred and profound the fable may be, is a leap of faith not too unlike that taken by the swine mentioned above.

So what’s with all this pig metaphor? Has the swine flu over the cuckoo’s nest? Or am I reading too much into one of Floyd's most cogent creations? No, it’s just that I’ve been going mad cow trying to figure out why otherwise bright sparks have been going on and on about how abnormal it is for 26/11 terrorist Ajmal Kasab to plead ‘not guilty’ during his ongoing trial. Why would a guilty man, they ask in that gobsmacked way that will become a look by the next fashion season, tell a court that he’s not guilty? Because, honeys, that’s what most people accused of committing crimes do: say they’re innocent.

The smart set’s not only upset by Kasab’s plea of ‘not guilty’ but is also appalled that someone, an Indian to boot, is defending him. Surely, they murmur, Kasab’s (first) lawyer Abbas Kazmi would be just pretending to defend his client and actually hanging out with and helping the prosecutor to nail the bastard, right? Or Anjali Waghmare -the now done with lawyer- secretly be an accomplice in hatching a plot to plot the downfall of one of India's most 'celebrated' terrorist captive. Expectedly, the villagers with their pitchforks are baying for blood. The Islam Gymkhana in Mumbai had expelled Kazmi as he “agreed to defend the most dreaded terrorist Kasab. This is against the essence of Islam”. Will the Koran ever be used to defend terrorism again? Never! Only club rules apply. Just to prove he isn’t above loving ‘patriotic Muslims’, Shiv Senapati Balasaheb Thackeray has endorsed the Gymkhana decision.

Anjali Waghmare was done with, for her apparent inability to comply to court rules or what, one might never be able to tell. In any case, she had her house pelted with stones by a mob. I believe that Waghmare was taken off the case of her own volition and not because of the technical reason cited: because she is also representing a 26/11 victim, she couldn’t be defending Kasab. Hmm. If a lawyer is seen to be professional enough to keep her personal views about a terrorist outside the court and defend him, why is prosecuting and defending the accused in two separate cases such a legal taboo?

So what about the pigs? Well, ‘Is Kasab guilty?’ is as tough a question to answer as ‘Can pigs fly?’ But according to the law, that secular scripture we bow to whenever it suits us, you need to jump through a set of agreed-upon hoops before effectively proving that Kasab is a guilty man. It doesn’t matter a bacon-nibbling rat’s ass if it seems obvious to you and me that Kasab’s a mass-killer who brought India to its knees. A good defendant can upset all expectations by arguing that the prosecutor’s evidence simply doesn’t add up. That’s his job. And that’s what makes a trial in this country legit and not an ‘Off with their heads!’ procedure.

And what about us(who the "usses" really are is open to debate)? Are we being so kind in showing our magnanimity to the 'poor' old fellow who showed just how vulnerable India is? Or are we just procrastinating the inevitable in order to prove just how pro-Tiananmen we are, in the current scheme of things?

We, in my humble opinion as I might add here, are like a pig in the middle, caught between what has been a rigid and redundant labyrinth of procedures and a compulsion to prove how we, as a nation, are prone to bootlick that phrase called 'democracy'. The general opinion(the democratic opinion, if it can be called that) is that Kasab is a mass murderer without even hinting at the literal meaning that his name connotes. Yet, we continue to act like young hypocrites at the DU. I wouldn't want to, but given to my tendency of digressing, I shall. The HT City 'reported' recently that young men joining the DU were planning attend their first few days at college in big, swanky cars and NOx guzzling superbikes, or 'Boy's Toys', as you might like to call them. The concerned females accepted that this does manage to attract their attention, afterall, name and fame corrupt anyone. But she(the individual in question) was quick to add that she would turn down-pretty nonchalantly at that- any proposal if she were to learn that the guy didn't "own" the car/bike but had bought it to impress her. Wanting to hang Kasab without a trial, after we're all human, and yet giving him a fair chance to prove he's not guilty. Fair and square? Surely.

I want Kasab to hang. I hope Kasab will hang. That’s why I’m so keen the trial is conducted quarantined from the pandemic hoopla surrounding it. That’s also why I don’t want the prosecution to screw things up.

Till then, pig it!