Power that be

Ever since Mr.Pawar has found a new avenue of enjoying gentlemanly power, the rather rustic power of feeding billion plus hungry Indians have increasingly started to take a back seat and the power to wield the hallowed willow has rightfully started to take precedence. We have experienced this for quite a few years now and the rise in food price index, accentuated by the abnormal rise in sugar prices largely has been attributed to his able stewardship of the food ministry, as and when he finds time from playing his own game of cricket. But the ICC President-hood has helped him develop an acquired skill of bowling 'doosra' and like the poor French Queen Marie Antionate, he now wonders why people who can buy cola for Rs.11, cant buy food ! Does 'Saheb", as he is known to his sycophants, have any data about the wretched cola drinkers in this country that we do not have ? Did the farmer about to commit suicide in Kalahandi or Vidarbha  wanted to have his glass of cola and not food before he died ? Mr.Pawar had his own little role to play in that contaminated-water-used-for-cola controversy that got swept under the carpet too, remember ? He might just know better.

Let us share some interesting facts about the state of sugar industry in Mr.Pawar's backyard. According to a CAG report in Maharashtra, the state has 202 co-operative sugar factories, 116 of which are loss making. Of these, till June 2006, 74 factories had negative net worth and 31 factories had to face liquidation between 1987 and 2006. 70% of these factories are controlled by the powers that be and the CAG had pulled up both the State Government and the Sugar Commissioner for not taking action against the Board of Directors of these companies. But the powerful can ignore such trivialities as this opens up the import market and also helps create a supply gap. Absolute power corrupts absolutely and leads to many sensational flag offs from  powerful men, even in speeches made inside the hallowed precincts of our democracy, to their baron brethren to freely hoard sugar and barren the sweet market.

I am sure the Supreme Court was more pained than us yesterday when they had to pull up a senior minister  for avoiding it's directive to freely distribute grains, that have been rotting in the open since 2008-09, to the poorest of hungry Indian. A national shame it is indeed that as people across the country are dyeing of hunger or are severely malnourished with enough food grain either rotting or turning into rodent food, our Great Servants are faithlessly but unfailingly attending to the lavish spread served at political iftaar parties of each other. Their gorging behind the well protected walls of Luteyns' Delhi are being dished out daily by print and electronic media for the hungry to tantalisingly savor and dream about during ramzaan. 

On Aug 19th, 2010, NDTV carried a report, which has been etched in many of our minds. Let me quote the report to refresh our memories : Khandwa, Madhya Pradesh:  Across the country, there have been reports of grain going to waste while hundreds of thousands continue to starve. The latest one comes from the state of Madhya Pradesh where a whopping 67 percent of the people live below the poverty line. On February 5, The Food Corporation of India had sent 1,100 quintals of wheat to be distributed in Khandwa's ration shops. Three days later, 39 wagons of the wheat reached the station but one wagon went missing. The FCI claimed compensation for the missing stock. Now, six months later, when the missing wagon was found, it was found that it had 85 quintals of wheat, that were rotted beyond repair. Those 85 quintals would have easily fed 250 Below Poverty Level (BPL) families for at least a month. This is just the tip of the iceberg though. 

Times Of India reported on Jul 27, 2010 that Haryana and Punjab were unable to protect or sell the 15.5 million tonnes of wheat lying in the open under tarpaulins. While Punjab admitted that 49,000 tonnnes of wheat had gone waste, the Union government warned that 1.36 lakh tonnes of wheat that it procured in 2008-09 and 27.38 lakh tonnes of wheat procured in 2009-10 had exceeded the one-year period grains can ideally be stored without rotting. 

Does this ring a bell ? Does this power the juggernaut to roll and try to alleviate the poor man's woes ? On 28th Aug, 2010, The Deccan Herald writes and I quote :' Good and normal monsoons over the years have helped produce foodgrains output to 231 million tonnes in 2008. As we claim ourselves as super power in waiting, the rampant malnutrition and prevalence of anaemic children and women to the extent of 48 per cent of population is a definitive indicator that we have failed to feed the empty stomachs. Under such critical circumstance, it is a criminal act to waste food grains'. It further says, and I quote again : 'Ironically our food storage methods are not only inadequate but also antiquated. In tropical climate, there is acute need to invent methods of food storage that can deal with the high moisture content leading to fungus and damage by rodents. Central Food Technological Research Institute (CFTRI) made the Central and state government aware of the problems of food storage way back in 1956. “If the problem persists after warning was issued more than five decades ago, it only means that government is not serious in shoring up the storage facilities to keep up with the expanding production” said Dr Parpia, former director of CFTRI'. unquote.

The Government is more bothered about the commonwealth games than it is about feeding our teeming millions of poor countrymen. The Prime Minister found time to visit the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium to check on it's progress and we are told, was mighty pleased by what he was shown. But he leaves the food business to an empowered GOM as he probably does not have time or the will to take on his most erring minister due to compulsions of coalition politics. Ultimately, it is about politics, rotten, stinking and as hard as a cricket ball.

The friendly neighbourhood

Our neighbour is livid and rightfully so. If the case was reverse, wont we be agitated ? It is their flood, their people are dying while their President is smoking cigar in London, their economy is devastated and to top it all, China has already given some loose change as aid. How on earth could we barge in with our aid package and when they refused, got the Big Daddy to prevail upon and force such a bitter pill down their throat ? The least they could have done is to shield the flood victims from our tepidity and brinkmanship and that is what they did by ordering us to follow the UN route. Hats off to their sense of patriotism and fellow feelings.

The whole nation seems to be out collecting aid from all over the place. Their cricketers have also tried to chip in their bit but the insensitive West is calling them match fixers !  This is really hitting where it hurts most at the time of extreme human tragedy. Irrespective of what they had pocketed during the last 82 matches, this one at Lords was only for charity and the stacks of cash would have gone as aid to fellow countrymen for sure. If only the Brits could understand why that runaway Afridi left test captaincy in a huff and poor Salman Butt had to take over for the sake of the nation, they would not, rather need not, have reacted so strongly.

Moving further west, we enter the hallowed precincts of our neighbour's neighbour who has also been outraged, thankfully not by us, but by the French. If our neighbour is angry because we wanted to help, so is their neighbour, because some imbecile First Lady staying at the Elysee Palace is daring to help reform their system of justice ! If they need to stone a lady with two young children to death that is their business. When the French eat muscles, isn't that crude ? When the Spaniards enjoy a bullfight, isn't that cruder ? When the Bazillions dance Samba, isn't it the crudest of all ? Then why pick on a Holy land governed by the laws of the Ayatollah and create such a ruckus about flogging or stoning or hanging to death a poor Sakineh Mohammadi Ashtiani ? This is highly unfair and biased indeed ! The Nobel Committee should consider the Ayatollah for a Peace Prize instead and set the records straight once and for all. 

Shall we move westwards further ? All right, this is the farthest we shall travel today. Were you invited to the Libyan cultural centre in Rome to hear Muammar Gaddafi preach Islam instead of politics ? You had to be part of a large group of young women hired by a hostess agency to be able to do that. Press reports say that 3 women were moved enough to convert their religion. I am so delighted that the era of Samrat Asoka has made a quite come back to our date and time. Imagine our very own Manmohan going to Pakistan to preach Sikhism. Or Sarkozy to Iran to preach Christianity ! Imagine a world devoid of nasty politics and filled with the preachings of different kinds of Ministry. Wow man !  I am all for rechristening (rather reislamising) the Libyan leader as Guru Gaddafi. He should also be awarded the prize jointly with the Ayatollah. 

The most terrible poverty

'The most terrible poverty' : that is how Mother Teresa used to define loneliness. I had pondered over this and have not been able to come up with a more suitable attribute. She also used to say "Give till it hurts". Two very significant statements indeed as, if you think about it rationally, they are opposite sides of the same coin and only we have the power to flip it the way we want. When one climbs towards the top in one's career, one gets a lot of solace and also derives pleasure from the fact that one is essentially lonely at the top. It is an achievement rather than deprivation. Did one feel poor then ? No Sir. Rather, one feels enriched as pride and greed and the trappings of power take precedence over inner wealth, humaneness and the power of giving. 

But the Humpty Dumpty invariably falls. And Jack also falls down with it and breaks his Crown (and Jill comes tumbling after). And then comes loneliness as Jack had moved away from people who cared and rushed through life like an obsessed humbug. He may have mauled the feelings of his fellowmen as he did not consider them to be fit to be his fellowmen anymore. He may have hurt the sentiments of his well wishers as he felt he did not need their wishes anymore. He must have changed his priorities on the way and "usurping" may have taken precedence  over "giving" or even "receiving". He is hardly recognisable anymore as the person his mates knew from before and had become a stranger. Suddenly and mysteriously, he looks for compassion and empathy, all over again. How terribly poor this poor fellow must be ! If only he could at least give recognition to his friends while he was climbing the ladder, he would never have been so poor today. If only he valued human sentiments more than he valued his invaluable time, if only he recognised then that he had a real need for the grounded folks in his life, if only he had spared himself of his selfishness for a few moments every now and then, the world around him would have been entirely different. I have seen this happening to many one-time-close unfortunate people. Life was laughing on their naivety when they thought they were enjoying a real good time and did not need "irritants" from the past to bother them. When they needed those "irritants" back in their lives for company and understanding, they were gone for ever, no where to be found again !       

I still recall that one sultry afternoon in Kolkata, when as a young boy, I saw the Mother in a car that had stopped in a traffic light just next to the tram I was in. As she looked at me with compassion and smiled, acknowledging my folded hands, I felt like never before. For her there were no irritants, no demand greater than humanity, no labour not encompassed with love and no person ever insignificant. We cannot possibly even begin to imagine the dedication, love, compassion, sensitivity, dignity and uprightness that makes Her what she is. She could give so much only with her smile, like she did with me. I was looking at her from a window and so was she. That beatific smile merged the two windows into one vast space of recognition for a young obscure school going teen. I had learned a lesson of a lifetime in that brief  moment of trance. If we could just smile back, our life would never be lonely ever again. Happy Birthday Ma.        

The legion

I was rolling on the streets of Kolkata just about a while back. My wife tells me that I am fat enough to resemble a football. If indeed I do, it is damn good for me as football is a multi billion dollar industry for the truly industrious. Also, a football rolls and gathers no moss, my dear. I was eagerly watching those around me, some of them in a tearing hurry, some strolling casually munching on peanuts, some just wanting to cross a busy intersection and not knowing whether or not to be a martyr, some more, young ones at that, quite oblivious of their surroundings and walking right through the traffic, hand in hand, as though they can handle life's odds better by being blissfully unaware of it's offerings. So many different shades of life, livelihood,  legacy, longing, loneliness and legion. 

I would like to particularly emphasise on the word legion, for, that is what I observed most as I rolled over again and again. The Gospel of Mark, 5.9, notes the following : 'And He(Jesus) asked him (the man), "what is thy name ?" And he answered, saying, "My name is Legion : for we are many'. On a casual Saturday afternoon, the broken dusty streets of Kolkata seems like the backwaters of the river Bhagirati. and every soul on the streets, their spirits soaring or melancholy or stoic, their colour red or green or saffron or any shade in between, seem like seafarers sailing towards the great exit. There seemed to be only one name for them, for all of them together actually; legion. Our great political masters call them "aam admi" though I liked the earlier version of "aam janata" better since it was more gender neutral. Mind you, I can differentiate myself from all this legion business as I roll and do not stroll, and therefore can rightfully have a ball-istic perspective.

And there was this Bhadrolok. Neatly dressed, well pressed (or well placed), short haired, shiny shoes, tiny handbag, and a head full of worries. Can he stay afloat and still manage to balance between what the Government and what his family requires of him ? Can he go to the bazzar every morning and come back with a canfull of wonders instead of a bagful of woes ? Can he meet the bills of all the utilities that he cant live without and still make all ends meet ? Can he hold back from turning into a legion and fight to remain a middle class, whose employers make sure that he travels cattle class every time he flies ? He had a smile on his parched lips that said it all. There is no one, really no one, to hold him up if he slips. The banks will hound him if he fails on his EMI. The other Bhadroloks will start avoiding him (as Bhadrolok is not legion). The legion will not support him as he is not one of them either. The Government will naturally look the other way as he does not qualify to be "aam"

I rolled up to him and looked sharply. I do not have any moss as I have been rolling for a long time. If only he could understand that rolling is better than strolling, at least we, just the two of us, could have become legion2. Remember, football is a multi billion dollar industry for the truly industrious to share ?  And when the football hits the nets, it is never kicked but carefully picked up.      

The tale of two flights

"Kaan paini ki mo jami chaddbi (why should I leave my land)" : said a Dongria Kondh girl Lindaja Samri after she welcomed Rahul Gandhi on his visit to Kalahandi yesterday, post the Vedanta licence cancellation episode. Very significant statement indeed. And very similar to the ones we have heard in different dialects over and over again for years together, but ignored in the name of development and public good. 

I was reading this wonderful book by Arundhati Roy "The algebra of infinite justice" and the human cost of "development" suddenly stuck me on my face like a tight slap. She has written about many hapless Adivasis who became landless labourers and came to live in shanties after their land were forcefully acquired in "public interest". One example is enough : In a village called Kothie in Gujrat, as a preqursor to the Sardar Sarovar Dam, the Government acquired 1600 acres of land from 950 Tadvi Adivasis in 1961. An aghast Mohan Bhai Tadvi watched 8 acres of his land with standing crop of jowar, toovar and cotton being levelled. Three years later he received his cash compensation of Rs.250 an acre in three separate instalments. One can well imagine what he must have gone through after being robbed of his land, livelihood and security, all at once. This was during Pandit Nehru's time. He had actually flown in to switch on the beginning of this massive destruction of the Narmada valley. 

Atleast, land used to be acquired then for large infrastructure projects, notwithstanding their viability or validity, that the powers genuinely believed in, would serve the common man. Over the years, and as the political parties have grown hungrier, we have seen land increasingly being acquired for private good. The most fertile land, the most fragile ecology, forests, you name it, land has been indiscriminately usurped to benefit the politician-bureaucrat-industrialist  nexus. People, mostly Adivasis and small farmers, have protested, pleaded, begged, been intimidated, taken bullets, been lathicharged, starved, died to protect their homes and hearth, but nobody listened.  Democracy, as we know it, strangely never got reflected in this particular case. Be it brutality on protesting farmers in UP or bullets for their brethren in Bengal, the nation has experienced the same insensitivity cutting accross political beliefs and spectrum. 

Till very recently, we were all deaf. To many of us urban brats, the likes of Medha Patkar were an irritant. They created unnecessary hassles in the path of development to serve their own tiny interests. To some of us more inclined to imaginary threats, they were agents of our unknown enemies, blocking our nation's progress. To the more fashionable elite, they looked unkempt and agrarian, therefore untrustworthy.

When hundreds of tribals worshipped Niyam Raja, the Hill God of Niyamgiri, and descended the slopes to reach Jagannathpur to celebrate getting back their land and their Lord yesterday, something had changed forever. Rahul Gandhi's flight to Kalahandi is different from his great grandfather's flight to Kothie in more ways than one. But the single fact that stands out is this : the earlier flight took away land from the people, the latest one gave it back. There is one more fact to be considered though. The land had always belonged to their rightful owners and no one is doing them a favour by not snatching it away. By restoring their rights, what perhaps we are beginning to give back our own selves are sensitivity, democratic thought process, nondiscriminatory behaviour and sense of justice, finally. But who knows if someone is waiting at another airport to catch another flight to try to destroy another habitat ? Only time and the strength of our democracy will tell.                

Darth Vader robs bank

A brilliant and absolutely ingenious execution of an enterprise. A man dressed as Star Wars antagonist Darth Vader robbed a Chase bank branch in New York recently. Customers initially thought it was a joke and began laughing as he entered in a character themed mask and blue cape, actually saying aloud that he was robbing it ! What an idea Sirji ! There is so much to learn from this brilliant performance, even  for a hardcore entrepreneur like the Vedanta Chief. If only he could entertain the poor Adivasis enough, he would have got his bauxite easily. By the time they would have realised, their temple on the Niyamgiri hilltop and the five perennial streams would have all got converted into aluminium. This is what you call opportunity loss, in strict economic terms.

Mad that I am, structured thinking has never been my forte. I delve too much into dreamland, believe me, even when I am wide awake. As I was thinking of this fake Darth Vader, I suddenly had this dream : a man impersonating as the West Bengal health minister, entering a 5 star hotel in the city, and robbing all those glittering exhibitionists of their jewelery, the slim fashionable ones of their satoosh shawls and the accompanying gentlemen of their mock chivalry and fat purses. Hey, but why was this impostor not checked at the gate, you may ask. Did you not know : the West Bengal health minister is no ordinary mortal and is allergic to any kind of frisking or security check. Who knows, he might even be carrying germs from his twenty odd years of ministration and therefore, in Public Interest,  has directed the home secretary to instruct the police chief to pull up anyone who dares to frisk him anywhere, lest others catch those deadly germs. He is also afraid of inadvertently transferring the frisking allergy to the frisker himself, and the Union health minister(s), both senior and junior, agrees with him. 

Now that Delhi is swimming and boats are plying on the hallowed roads of the Capital, will the GOI get a breather and wriggle out of the Commonwealth Games citing "act of God" ? Well, since we have spent Rs.11k crores on the games (infrastructure costing another Rs.15k crores), we might as well have some entertainment going in the indoor stadias we built. Even the likes of Bappi Lahiri shows would do, really. Served along with freshly fried pakoras on a wet day, where we can put our feet up (on the back rest of the seat in front) and enjoy a Bollywood feel-good show, we might just forget the Kalmadis and the OC and the national shame and the wealth that has been plundered, et all, and do bhangra in our typical forget-it Indian style. We do not need to wear a Darth Vader mask to do that, just as the games organisors who robbed us of our hard earned money, and our children of basic education, and our parents of health care etc. etc.didn't. Bharat Mata Ki Jai.                

Babudom Boredom

I was watching the evening news munching on an unhealthy parantha, when my jaws literally dropped and I almost chocked with a silly bit stuck in my windpipe. This was about a month or so back. Television may sometimes have this terrible effect on you and I recommend every programme should come with a statutory warning “watch at your own risk” or “you may go crazy” and so on. Let me tell you what I saw. An infirm, dilapidated, rickety old bus was parked outside the Reserve Bank of India office in Jaipur with quite a few crores of rupees inside  her belly (this was around the time rupee got a symbol), right on the main thoroughfare, being guarded by a few very nervous looking policemen. Ironically, the large iron gates of the RBI compound were tightly shut with the Babus well guarded inside their living quarters and the money they were supposed to guard lying open outside on the streets. One could literally see the tin trunks from the large cracks on the sides of the bus and it all looked so tempting and surreal. Why on earth, you may ask. These 90 odd crores were supposed to be deposited within 5 pm. The bus got delayed due to a traffic jam. The Babus got fuming and left for home, within the same compound. Babu’s Day Out was over for the day. Rules, my dear friend, Rules. As enshrined in the Holy Rule Book. I wonder what the RBI Governor and /or the FM did to those Babus. They certainly deserve a special service medal for exemplary sense of duty and upholding the Rule Book, don’t they ?  

The same set of Babus have made a more recent pronouncement. They have taken away our world champion from ourselves and adjudged him Spanish. Lo and behold : GM Vishy Anand is Spanish !! What is the nationality of HM Juan Carlos then ? An Indian, possibly ?  But this is only the culmination of a series of Babudom methodology. Lets go over them one by one. First, why on earth would an university need to seek any permission from any one, be it the HRD Ministry or the Visitor's office or anyone else, to confer an honour on any honorable person it deems fit ?  Second, how does the nationality of the person being honored matter or does his country take precedence over his good work ? Third, if atall a Government clearance is sought (God knows why it should be), why would several ministries, in Ananad’s case HRD, MEA and Raisina Hill, play handball with the recommendation of Hyderabad University for months together ? Why cant just one Babu take one final call and be done with it ? Like any corporate would do, given a similar situation : leave it to the experts to handle and just ensure logistical support. The Holy Rule Book, when used diligently by our un Holy Babus, make our one and only World Chess Champion, Un-Indian !!! I dare not stay away from our shores anymore. Who knows what would happen if I do ? Maybe, according to the Rule Book, my family may become un familiar !!

An afterthought really. After the Commonwealth Games OC bungled, the PM has entrusted a team of 10 odd Babus to oversee the final touches. Has he snatched away the Rule Book from  their hands ? If he hasn’t, he better send someone in to do that right now. Who knows, we may land up getting the distinction of the only country capable of having a games by not having one after all. The paperwork will be complete, in all respects, I can assure you that, but the Games on ground ? Hope it doesn’t turn out to be like Vishy Anand’s aborted convocation.  

The great new pay hike

You must have heard the latest about the self inflicted good that our beloved MPs have done to themselves ? They have angrily further hiked their perks over and above the 300% they gifted themselves a few days back. The original hike is stale news anyway and I do not wish to add to your boredom or despair, as the case may be, by repeating. I would rather leave you brooding about how to negotiate your own hike with your own management (which is not you yourself), with the fear of getting the boot if you press too hard.

The interesting bit is the way one white haired cerebral Honorable Gentleman grabbed the only opportunity he had of becoming the mock PM and became one, albeit in his mock Parliament. And how the real PM relented and had the other PM (aka FM) grant him his wish ! This has proven beyond doubt that even a mock PM wields effective power and therefore cannot be considered anything below the real PM or the other PM.

Now, that brings us to the most important topic of discussion : what should be the responsibilities of the mock PM and what should his rights be from now on ?

Responsibilities first : Are there any really ? Ok, granting MPs and their kin more and more pay, foreign travel, first class travel, business class travel, chai allowance, samosa allowance, jelebi allowance etc.etc etc. may be considered his prime responsibility. But what else ? To vote for the real PM in times of crisis perhaps ? To walk out of Parliament during any crucial vote and "unknowingly" help the Government survive, perhaps ? To talk about the common man and all the uncommon good that has been bestowed upon him by the common cause of the Treasury Benches, perhaps ? And though not entitled to sit in the front row, and though part of the opposition, actually be the real commoner in the elite Government ranks ? Oh, I forgot the fodder bit. But that is the real PM's responsibility really. To forget all that for the time being till such time he is mock PM.

Have we not seen the ordinary ganna-ka-juice-walla grinding his sugarcane again and again till the poor stick turns into tiny back-broken shambles ? And doesn't that contraption with it's big cart wheel and all the grinds resemble some benefactors we see in flesh once every five years ? Just kidding ! You thought I could seriously write such nonsense without being knocked out of my senses ?  And what has an ordinary juice extractor got anything to do with the right of a mock PM anyway, eh ?

Now, the rights. All the perks of a MP surely, and much more. He should get SPG cover. His family and extended family and their families and anyone familiar with such families should get SPG cover. He should be outside the purview of CBI, CID, RAW, ED, IT etc.etc.. He should be above the Law like the Queen as he has responsibilities which cannot be discharged properly if he is brought under the purview of law. He should be alloted bunglows, both in the National and State Capitals and he may stay wherever he may wish with his bovine pets, BIL(s) and other pests. The Union Cabinet should be at his beck and call and irrespective of what the Prince-to-be-PM may opine about him, he should be invited to all important Government parties with mandatory litti-chokha on the menu. If he ever wishes, he should feel free to walk into any Ministry of his choice, provided he legitimately wins his seat in the front row any time.

I think they should have gifted themselves a hefty increase in their pensions instead of regular pay as life may be hard without the bearings of public service. After all, we Indians look forward to our life-after more expectantly than that on this wretched earth. Maybe, most of our MPs experience the opposite while in that August Office and ensure that they happily live ever after. Why bother about a measly pension at all ?. And here I am, like a damn fool, still concerned about their post ouster well being !!

The run up to a differently similar rule

Now that Didi is safely back from the back of beyond of Bengal called Lalgarh, literally meaning the “Red Fort”, which grew raddish for donkey’s era and have now, for the past few years, become quite blood red, the quintessential Bhadrolok has sighed his deep sense of relief, more due to the scare created by the last minute intrusion of an ordinary truck in the Supremo’s unscheduled tea party near Kolaghat and less due to any remote chance of the Maoist sympathisers creating a rucus there. 

When asked for the true reason of Didi’s visit to Lalgarh, one of her ardent followers, who did not wish to be named “with no content and out of context”, most respectfully admitted that since Didi has all the greatness of the Great Dictator and as her word is the last word for everything that is anything as far as her supporters are concerned, who is he to think of any reason other than the fact that She must be knowing the true reason and that is enough reason for others to follow her to the little red fort. He fondly recalled the story of the Pied Piper and his followers and became rather ecstatic, almost went in a trance, while he visualised himself as one following his own Great Piper. I left him in his own ratty world and quietly left without a rattle towards the neighbouring Left office.

And lo and behold, they still have that bearded German hanging right above their main entrance with the other duo of the Holy Trinity, the gentleman from Russia and the eternal Angel, all duly decked up and in their rightful prominent places, this one set almost looking like an alter, getting me foxed enough to search for the telltale signs of Indian worship in an un Holy terrain. I even searched for a small framed photograph of beloved Buddha, who could have become Mahavir as well if he had the courage to face the brigands of his own brigade, but found none, not even a whimper. The great “Karat” (i.e. hacksaw in Bangla), him neither. The Chairman, aptly known as Biman (i.e. airplane in Bangla), grounded too. What the heck is this yaar, I thought. Do they still think that the Holy Trinity, long gone, buried and ousted from their own chambers, will bring them back to rule the hapless proletariat again (thereby help them become richer bourgeois)? Where have all the home grown ones gone, who could have done them less harm at least?  I just could not find anybody in that well lit office to clear my doubts and I was told by a neighboring chaiwalla that no one has really turned up ever since Didi last celebrated her Sahid Divas, choking the city like a dog on a choke chain.

Wandering, I was wondering if I could find the BJP office but no one seemed to know the exact whereabouts! Sometime back, I was forced to experience one burly gentleman, who, on assuming office of the State President, suddenly decided to have his, rather their presence felt, and created havoc in the already chaotic Kolkata. As I had watched him on local news that evening, I tried to recollect where have I seen this one before? Back home, as I flipped through the rags, riches and conniving homemakers on primetime, my thumb automatically grew numb when I hit upon The Grumpy-turned-Gorgeous Ms.S extolling the virtues of   live marriage bids (sic) on air. I stopped. I watched. I realised. The resemblance, that is.