LOVE AND FENCING

She loved him. He loved her. There was a thick white line between their ends of the court. The match started.

First, she held her breath, extended her arm and muttering “”Love, love, love..” went charging into his side of the court. If only she could touch him and return across the thick white line.

He looked at her. She had love in her eyes, on her breath. But, why did she want to score a point? Anyway, he tried to grab and keep her on his side but she was elusive. Finally, she was getting out of breath and she went across the line.

Now, it was his turn. He too held his breath and ventured into her territory whilst muttering “Love, love, love…” This time she tried to grab him and keep him permanently on her side. Once or twice he was very close to touching her and changing her forever but whilst she wanted love she did not want to be changed. She detested any change because it appeared to her as encroachment on her independence.

This continued for sometime; both having love on their lips but both wanting to score points and return across the line. At one point she touched him and he actually grabbed her but she dragged him all the way back to the line and scored a point. He was at a disadvantage even when he grabbed her. He looked into her eyes and forgot all about the game.

After this, everytime she ventured into his territory, she was quick to realise and exploit the advantage it gave her to make him look in her eyes and then score points. She thus raced to nearly the end of the game (match point) whilst he was still at Love.

Finally, she won, or so she thought. She returned to her side. On the sidelines her fans were there cheering her up; some of them even so bold as to lift her up and display her as a prize.

He just watched and kept standing there. He was still standing when she went away with her complete fan club, cheerers and followers.

He was still standing there when it rained. Slowly, there was no thick white line, nor the court, and no signs of the Love Game.

“Love, love, love, love…” he kept muttering, barely audible now….

The last breath was taking longer than he’d expected.

INSTANTLY

If this appears deceptively similar to Cliff Richard’s famous number ‘Constantly‘, the similarity stops there. No one has the time these days to do anything constantly let alone to walk in a dream and think about one’s love. These days the world moves ‘instantly‘. No one has time to deliberately do anything or deliberate over things.

At one time we used to hear a song over the Short Wave radio and then hope to hear it again over the next few months. In order to remember the lyrics we would sit with a paper and pencil when the Geetmala would be broadcast again and, if there would be no disturbance on the shortwave, we would be able to fast write the lyrics, or, most of those. Nowadays, we download any number from the You tube and not only hear it but also see its video; and, have its lyrics before us instantly.

Take the case of photographs. Even though it is obvious, let me say it. Earlier we used to take pictures of the family during the holidays or engaged in diverse activities. We used to get them printed and stick them in the family album and then invite unsuspecting guests at home; and sort of lead them into viewing our album. They were forced to show interest whilst waiting for the dessert to be served (No one ever took the risk of showing those pictures after the dessert). But nowadays, we put them up on facebook even when the event is going on and enjoy the attention. The plus point is that we don’t get to see the yawns and the furtive glances at the watch.

Remember how we used to cringe when visiting a friend’s house and the couple insisting that we must see merit in their son Gaurav performing as Gabbar of Sholay with a dacoit’s belt loosely hanging from his shoulder. Now we go through the videos in our own time. We don’t have to match our comment, “How cute Gaurav looks!” with our own (disgusted) looks. In addition, we can instantly subject the sender to some return torture (like return gifts on birthdays) of seeing our own son Vivek doing the rendition of Michael Jackson’s moonwalk.

Television too projects pictures and news for us instantly. Gone are the days when a politician’s denial of his involvement in corruption would be read after a week. Nowadays, thanks mostly to his media-managers, his denial appears instantly whilst the scam is being aired. Do you remember when Pramod Mahajan was shot? When he was battling with life, the media used to instantly show details of his innards, knowing well that most of us are genuinely interested in the inner news.

At one time we used to deliberate over national and international issues and then form our views and much later express these. Nowadays, Twiiter has made sure that important views of such leading personalities as those who specialise in having views on everything under the sun are instantly available. It is another thing that we had never known that these worthies had any views on anything until then; but, then, a view is a view. Everyone, from Obama to O’ mama, is reduced to 140 characters.

Earlier, we would get news from the battle front days later. Nowadays, the scenes of the battle are instantly flashed before us even as the first shots are fired. Many so called war-correspondents vie with one another in reaching news to us before the bullets hit the targets.

Thankfully, in all this intantaneity there are two things that still move at leisurely pace and we are sure never going to change. One is something called a ‘File‘ in government offices. Its movement is exactly at the same pace as, say, in 1949. From noting number 1 to 478, all aspects of the case are deliberated upon at great length. Some of these notes are tagged Immediate, Most Immediate, Urgent etc but there is never any undue hurry. Five years later, the File, knowing that in the fable of the Hare and the Tortoise, it is the latter that wins, crawls even slower than the tortoise.

The second is the Indian judicial system. A fast moving case is often the one, which has advanced from being posted to its fifth hearing in about five years time.

In most other things everything is instantly done. For example, it used to take many years from love at first sight, to marriage, to children, to divorce. Nowadays, before you can switch channels on a television the divorce is through and the guy, having been instantlyfree again, is enjoying honeymoon with the second wife in Pattaya.What about instant fame? Have you forgotten Prince? He became instantly famous and rich by the sheer bad luck of falling in a 40 feet open hole; the exact opposite of golfing term, that is, one-in-hole.

Many of us, however, still miss the slow pace at which things used to move. There were no ATMs, no cell phones to instantly connect to people, ODIs and T 20s. There were no prizes for reading books fast or pressing the button in fastest finger first.

Oh, how we miss those slow moving days? “Dil dhoondta hai fursat ke chaar din...” (Heart searches for those leisurely days).
Alas, no more.

IF YOU DRIVE IN INDIA – PART II

This article has my tweets on the thread #ifudriveinindia (Part I was published in Jul 10). Comedy and humour apart, more people die of road accidents in India than in any other country in the world. It is because of our peculiar driving habits. One of the old Hindi movies had this song: “Zindagi ik safar hai suhana, yahan kal kya ho kisne jana?” (Life is a pleasant journey; but, no one knows what will happen tomorrow). Well, whilst driving in India you have no idea of what will happen the next moment. Read on; these tweets may be of some use to foreigners desirous of driving in India or even Indians not yet totally initiated.

If you drive in India: 
  • You would learn the virtues of patience as you go along; it is not important to reach anywhere!
  • You would become a very spritual person at the end of your journey!
  • And the road sign gives you a number to call for assistance it would always be engaged.
  • And carry a map for directions it is false security since many roads and their names would have changed since publication.
  • On a long journey you would need to know different languages to read road signs in different states. 
  • You should be prepared for the entire traffic to be diverted, even on a highway, for a VIP to cross. 
  • And stop to ask directions don’t go by the person’s words; look at his gestures; try to match them together. 
  • Remember that brake, accelerator, indicator lights, clutch etc are not as important as the horn. 
  • And are thinking of enjoying your journey, you have not been reading my tweets! 
  • You should have a volley of choicest abuses ready to hurl at the other driver who rams into you and starts doing the same. 
  • You should be prepared for vehicles overtaking you from both sides on a single or double lane highway!
  • And find that the main road or highway has suddenly landed into a river or canal, just enjoy the scenery and……pray! 
  • You have to compete with such traffic as vehicles, carts, animals, people, processions, statues and hoardings on all roads. 
  • Do not be taken aback by seeing about 300 people riding in a 45 seater bus; many will be on the roof top. 
  • And get the impression that drivers all around you are trying to kill you, it is not a hallucination; they are if you are not careful. 
  • And are totally hassled, there is nothing new because all around you there are totally hassled drivers. 
  • Remember that Indians don’t respect road medians and don’t mind risking lives by coming on the wrong side to save 1/2 litre fuel. 
  • Be prepared for perpetual work going on the roads. 
  • Remember we got our freedom on 15 Aug 1947 and we haven’t stopped celebrating this freedom on roads to do anything and everything! 
  • And have to overtake a roadways bus you can only do so when the driver is not looking your way. 
  • You have to drive very carefully all the time as danger lurks where you would least expect it. 
  • And there is only one other vehicle with you on the highway you should never take your eyes of it; else it would surprise you. 
  • You must realise that roads are environmentally friendly and kept close to original state of being rivulet, field, ditch or forest. 
  • And reach home without dents on car, personal injury, and bruised ego, you have performed a miracle. 
  • Remember that upon overtaking you a vehicle will immediately be turning left; it just couldn’t wait to do it after you cross. 
  • You will realise you have very little chance of keeping yourself from becoming mad. 
  • You will realise that there is ALWAYS work going on the roads especially on your lane or your side of the road. 
  • Remember that you will feel safest in a road-roller even if you don’t go anywhere far; in any case in India you should not go too far. 
  • Remember that on Indian roads it is the survival of the fittest, nay, biggest: truck has right of way over car, car over scooter and so on. 
  • The commonest expression that you will hear is, “Yeh sadak tere baap ki hai kya?” (does this road belong to your father?) 
  • And give dirty look to a driver who has done something wrong you are in for trouble. In India everybody is someone big especially in politics. 
  • And park your car in a parking place and go to restaurant or movie; it is as safe as a virgin girl in a colony of rapists. 
  • And get out of crowded city and heave sigh of relief you will realise that your relief is short lived. In India two is a crowd. 
  • And stop to let pedestrians cross, everyone around you will honk to show their displeasure at you for delaying them. 
  • You should remember that hardly anybody cares about lanes; people drive with the lane marking line between the two tyres. 
  • And start going through a One Way Street; it does not mean traffic will not come at you from opposite direction.

IN THE WAR ZONE

No, this is not a review of the play by this name of my favourite playwright Eugene O’Neil. This has got much limited scope: the War Zone called Sector 20, Kharghar in Navi Mumbai. If you had similar war zones in your own neighbourhood during Diwali, I can only add a disclaimer, as is found before movies and books: ‘The resemblance is purely coincidental’.

Everyone’s been warning us that the Maoists are eyeing urban landscape for expanding their war against the state and its citizens. Little did we know that this war would come to us from unexpected quarters: revellers trying to celebrate a certain Ram having returned home safely. My take is that he was lucky he was exiled to the forests; if he was to be exiled to Sector 20, Kharghar, returning safe would have been a tougher challenge.

Initially, during the day, it started with sporadic firing of small arms but enough to make our dog Roger cringe and look for shelter. But soon the calibre of the weapons used increased in inverse proportion to the calibre of the users. By night, unguided missiles, heavy artillery, rockets and grenades had been brought out. The scenes of blood curdling warfare with unintelligible screams of “get them”, “bachne na paaye” (don’t let them get away), “aaj nahin chhodenge” (tonight we shall not leave them) filled the air. Soon, no place was safe for the enemy.

 In a distant place called Guantanamo, American investigators used to disorient their prisoners by constant loud noises; so that finally the terrorists would own up their guilt or collusion. But, the kind of torture, Sector 20, Kharghar, subjected its inhabitants to would have put any Guantanamo to shame.

The technological excellence of the raids left us gaping. Like Iraq war, first the targets were softened by continuous aerial bombardment. Tracers were used to illuminate the targets and then it was tchak tchak tchak boom boom boom blast. The enemy could not be seen but must have been running for life. Flushing out operations were the hardest; boom, boom, tchak, bang, wroom.

Just as we thought there was a let up,the door to door fighting resumed with renewed zeal. Sounds of determined explosions continued the whole night. We were in our homes like people cowering in nuclear bunkers, expecting the worst.

At one stage, I ventured out like an intrepid war – journalist and tapped a combatant as young as 14 years old who was about to light up the fuse of serial bombs of a few hundred kilo-tons and asked him, “Beta yeh aap Ramji ke liye kar rahe ho?” (son, are you doing it for Lord Ram?) His reply was muffed in the blast of the explosions but I could understand the essential part of it: He was doing it for fellow combatant Ujjawal, who had taken a break to replenish ammunition from the nearest store.

 Another one told me that life depended upon subjecting the enemy to continuous firepower; something similar to Basanti in Sholay: “Ab nacho; jab tak tere paer challenge, tere aashiq ki saans chalegi” (Now dance; as long as your feet run, so will the breath of life of your lover).

To give credit to these warriors, their devotion to duty was so complete that they continued relentlessly the whole night. Basanti would have given up long ago.

In the morning we were gratified to get the news that Sector 20 Kharghar had emerged the winner in urban guerrilla warfare. It had to face extremely tough competition but the young men of our neighbourhood had fought determinedly and without respite. We are going to honour them in a felicitation ceremony as soon as we have collected a billion old sandals and chappals, one each for the tchak tchak boom boom.

I saw a young warrior returning home at wee hours of the morning, rockets and missiles popping out from his back-pack, grime and grease on his face, and satisfaction of a job well-done. His only complaint was that victorious though he and his gang were, there was shame in returning home with unused ammunition. I assured him that life had not ended for him (even though it nearly ended for us) and that there would be a next time.

I went for a walk at the other end of the Central Park and found a few familiar mongrels. These gathered near a trash mound there and looked pretty inactive and morose. I told them that they did not have to come this far since Sector 20, Kharghar had adequate number of garbage dumps to welcome them. Their reply made me think highly of our young men’s commitment to their cause, “All very well for you to say so. Everyone in Sector 20 Kharghar is very cooperative in throwing garbage everywhere so that we can enjoy. But, last night we were out-manoeuvred by really heavy firing. On one hand you welcome us like proper Indians with trash everywhere. On the other hand, you slam the daylights and even nightlights out of us by war cries, explosions and blasts. You can continue to stay there because you have no choice; but, we will not return until peace prevails.”

Peace prevails? Lord Ram, you have returned after fourteen years of exile and we welcome you. But, tell us when will peace return to Sector 20, Kharghar?

THE GREAT INDIAN TRAIN JOURNEY

The opening ceremony of the recently concluded Commonwealth Games 2010 at New Delhi showcased Indian culture really well. One of the most fascinating items was the ‘Great Indian Train Journey’. Let’s face it; if you are an Indian, trains are as much part of your life as, say, gods, Bollywood films, potholed roads, and cricket. Whether you try to cross a railway crossing by tilting your scooter under the barrier or hang precariously on to the handle bars in the locals, you are never beyond the overpowering influence of Indian Railways.

Indian Railways fill you with all emotions known to man. As you stand in the queue at the reservation counter, from the night before, so that you are amongst the first lucky ones to get ‘Confirmed Reservation’ when the counter opens at 8 AM, you go through a set of emotions ranging from suspense, extreme tolerance, abiding faith in God, frustration, anger, acceptance, and finally untold joy when the clerk informs you that two of your family have confirmed seats and the other two are wait-listed one and two, which you know is as good as confirmed since within the next 60 days there would be many cancellations. It was, you tell yourself, well worth it, to stand in the queue overnight so that your overnight journey in the train would be comfortable.

Even though you have a confirmed reservation, no one can describe the elation of finding your name on the reservation chart on the platform just before boarding the train. Eager passengers look up to these charts in a manner similar to looking for your roll number in the matriculation exam results. Compartment, in both cases, is welcome, and is better than failure. Meanwhile wait-listed and RAC (Reservation Against Cancellation) passengers try to seek the TTEs (Travelling Ticket Examiners); but, like all public servants, these men make themselves scarce and busy elsewhere until you have sorted out most of the confusion yourself. After that the TTE starts the great Indian trick called ‘adjustment’. This is almost like magic: he looks at his chart, looks at you, shakes his head to indicate no berths available, you reach for your wallet to pay for his sincere efforts to somehow find a berth, he looks at you a little more kindly, looks back at his chart, and lo and behold, like a conjurer, pulls out a vacant berth that had earlier totally escaped his attention. You have song on your lips when you return to the family patiently waiting for you in the space between the western style and Indian style toilets.

Now, if only you can find a place for your one trunk, two suitcases, two baskets and one cardboard box containing Bikaneri namkeen, pau bhaji, sweets, parathas, achar, onions, aloo ghobi subzi and two each packets of cheewada and chikki. The people already on the berths near you have filled in every possible crevice under and around the seats and there appears to be no place for your baggage. But, thanks once again to the great Indian trick, all your baggage gets ‘adjusted’ somehow, some of it hanging from hooks provided for clothes, whilst smaller packets are neatly tucked under the pillow.

It is incredible to think after what you have gone through that the journey has not yet commenced. And how do you know the journey is about to start? Well, not merely by the Guard’s whistle and waving of the green flag; but, also by the fact that an equal number of people (farewell parties) have to get out and make place for those on platform who are actually the passengers. An old Punjabi anecdote describes this confusion of mass movement: On the platform a sardar is waving at his friends in a departing train and laughing uncontrollably. When reminded that parting is a sad occasion he replies, “Do you see those people waving back from the train? They are the ones who came here to see me off.”

In the ‘General’ compartment bigger confusion prevails; it is meant for 68 passengers and generally the number is exceeded by a few hundred. In the slowly moving train some are seen half hanging out since they decided to take the plunge at the last-minute and launch themselves on unsuspecting passengers inside who had taken hours to find their seats. They know as the train catches speed they cannot be thrown out and somehow have to be adjusted in the compartment.

Within about an hour, like dust, all confusion settles down. The conversation ranges from the coolie’s attempt to hoodwink people, to the poor decision on Dhoni’s part to have sent Bhajji as a pinch-hitter. Those who did not want to budge an inch to make place for co-passengers are now in animated conversation with them and insisting that they have a bite of the stuffed paratha that their only daughter packed for them. “What does your daughter do?” asks the man appreciatively taking a bite of the stuffed paratha. One thing leads to another and a betrothal is very much on the cards.

From the next compartment when you hear utterances that resemble Chinese, that is, “Cho Chweet“, these are actually meant for the young infant on the next berth. Earlier, the neighbouring passengers were fed up with his incessant wailing, but now that he has been rocked to sleep with the moving train he looks so sweet.

In another part of the bogie there is heated discussion going over a cards game with a man-of-the-street predicting with authority, “Yeh sarkar nahin chalegi” (This government won’t last) and another one irritated with his pontification, “Per Chopra ji, aap patta to pehle fainko; sarkar ko maaro goli” (But, Chopra ji, first throw your card; shoot the government later”.

Then there are these women who are returning from Brindavan and are full of Krishna’s charisma (quite a tongue-twister that). They break out into what they feel is melodious hymn about Krishna, Radha and gopiyan. An old man next to them congratulates himself that he had the sixth-sense or a sense of higher number to have brought his portable tape recorder for just such an eventuality. So he plugs in his ears with the headphones and is partially oblivious of the hymns.

The great Indian train journey, in many ways, is a true reflection of how Indians make peace with their circumstances. So, when they get up next morning and the chai-wallah tells them that the train is running some eight hours late, the general consensus is that it could have been worse.

Finally when the train screeches to a halt at the destination this peace is broken and nobody wants to wait for even thirty seconds to allow passengers ahead of them to get out. It is push, scream, fret, and get-out with all your baggage in flaming hurry as if the bogie is on fire.As you get on the platform with all your belongings and family members, the one thought foremost in your mind is that the great Indian train journey never ends.

Life goes on…

ADARSH SOCIETY, CWG, CORRUPTION IN ARMED FORCES AND PUBLIC MORALITY

As soon as I was commissioned in the Navy I had to undergo Subaltern Lieutenant’s training courses. The user-maintainer concept had just been introduced and we had to go to Navy’s Electrical Engineering training establishment named Valsura in Jamnagar, Gujarat, to acquire skills to become proficient first level maintainers.

Most of the First Class compartments had been booked for our course as we headed towards Jamnagar. To pass time, we played Bridge and drank beer and rum. When the TTE (I still remember his name on the his name telly: V Srivastava) came to our compartment he saw that we were drinking. He was visibly shocked at this and addressed us in chaste Hindi which is translated thus: “Young men, you should be ashamed of yourself. You are passing through Mahatma Gandhi’s state wherein drinking liquor is prohibited. And yet, here you are – young men who would be responsible to defend our nation – shamelessly breaking the law and drinking.”

I was, at that time (perhaps I still am) an idealist and moralist. I was so mortified by this that I left the gang, collected my Ayn Rand and climbed to the upper berth to hide my head in shame. I was so immersed in ‘The Fountainhead’ that after some time when I looked down I found the TTE having a drink with my friends. I got down from the berth and berated him, “Srivastava ji, you had no right to be pseudo moralistic. Look at you, now, a TTE on duty having liquor. I think at the next station we shall hand you over to the Vigilance people”.

His reply is pointer towards the central theme of this essay, “Ab chhodiye bhai sahib. Main to ek do peg pi ke chala jayoonga; vigilance wale kam se kam poori botal lenge aapse”. (Just forget it, brother. I shall (quietly) go after one or two pegs; the vigilance people would demand a full bottle, at the least).

On another occasion, I was travelling by the defence – services – friendly Frontier Mail, from Bombay to Delhi. Just the hint of one being a defence officer [and entitled to draw “pure” (it was the public perception) rum] would get one a vacant berth that would have otherwise got the TTE some chai-paani money from others. After “adjusting” the passengers the TTE came to me in the coupe’ he had told me to occupy. I offered him a drink, which soon became two, three, four etc. That loosened his tongue. Over a period of next one hour he told me that he had a house in South Delhi, another in Jaipur, two cars etc and that his elder daughter was about to marry an IAS officer from “a rich family”.

I not only showed surprise but expressed it, “I say, you guys really indulge in corruption and can get anything”.

His reply was as classic as that of TTE Srivastava. He said, “Bhai Sahib, hum to apni mehnat ki kamai khaate hain. Corrupt to hamare bade sahib hain jo ghar baithe hi paise bana rahe hain” (Brother, we (TTEs) only enjoy the fruits of our labour. Corrupt are the big bosses in railways who get the money sitting at home”.

These two are mere examples of our (voyeuristic?) attitude when we see yet another example of corruption in public life. The “bigger fish” always seems to get away whilst poor people like us who do indulge in petty corruption (either in giving bribes or receiving chai-paani money) are always made scapegoats.

What do you think shocked us about corruption in recently concluded CWG deals? Well, not the fact of the corruption but the sheer scale of it.

Laxman’s cartoon, many years back, about big time corruption was most telling. In this a policeman is seen taking a handcuffed petty thief to the Police Station and telling him, “Your fault is that you stole five bucks. If you had stolen fifty crores I could have been your security guard”.

Corruption at higher levels does affect the morale of the people at lower levels. And when we hear about increasingly more stupendous and brazen corrupt cases, we see one holy bastion or the other crumbling. Over a period of time our perception is that politicians, bureaucrats, engineers, doctors, film stars (casting couch, avoidance of income tax et al), religious leaders, railway TTEs, personnel in government departments from peon to boss, shopkeepers and tradesmen, cricketers and policemen are not only corrupt but have earned the right to be so. We publicly hate them for it. But, if we have to marry our daughters, we find these as the most eligible bachelors. In my last posting in the Navy before I retired, a sailor from Haryana wanted his daughter to be married to an ASI in the police. He was asked to pay rupees ten lakhs in dowry “considering the earning capacity of the ASI and hence the ability to keep your daughter happy”.

We resignedly accept corruption even in the judiciary. But when the last bastion of upright behaviour, that is, armed forces too display signs of corruption a la booze-colonels, fake-encounter-for-medal COs, Tehelka expose’ big-wigs, land and housing scam generals and admirals, we tend to bemoan that there is “total lack of moral values in Indian public life”. How can these jokers be trusted in war when they indulge in such immoral acts? Isn’t esprit de corps the hallmark of defence forces? How would their men have trust in them when they indulge in such things? How could they stoop so low? How could they shamefacedly make such statements that they did not know that the land belonged to the military or to the war-widows?

Seven years back I was asked to conduct a major investigation into endemic corruption at Navy’s Material Organisation at Mumbai. This was a prelude to trying by Courts Martial all those found involved. Gradually it came out that everyone from the top (Material Superintendent) to bottom was involved and that the case, just like the Adarsh Society case, should be handed over to the CBI (Central Bureau of Investigation). Indeed, a Navy Order exists to the effect that with such large scale corruption it is mandatory to hand over the case to CBI. But, did we hand over? No, the Navy was jealously guarding its reputation. Hence, there was only one officer, that is me, conducting the entire investigation. I was posted as Director of an operational unit, the Maritime Warfare Centre, and I conducted this large investigation single-handedly. Whilst my own officers and others used to return home at 5 PM I used to continue until 10 or 11 PM and worked on Saturdays and Sundays too for the next eighteen months.

Many a time even the organisation refused to support me. The original C-in-C and his Chief of Staff who ordered the Courts Martial got transferred and a new lot took over. The present C-in-C, who complained about the Adarsh Society, became the Chief of Staff and happened to be a course mate of the chief accused, the Material Superintendent. The witnesses (vendors who had given the bribes) were being threatened by the accused officers not to appear in court. One day, when out of fear not a single witness appeared, I approached him for assistance. He bluntly told me that I was by myself. I approached the original team too who either refused to take my call or pretended not to receive mail from me.

With all this, I was responsible for putting oneCommodore and one other officer behind bars and others were given lighter punishments. So, how was I rewarded for my efforts? Well, it was the Judge Advocate who was awarded a Vishisht Sena Medal (VSM or Medal for Distinguished Service) specifically for his efforts in the investigation and courts martial! Many years later, for two consecutive years, I was recommended for Ati Vishisht Sena Medal (AVSM or medal for Very Distinguished Service) for operational reasons but not awarded since neither me nor the C-in-C who recommended it had friends at the right places. Just before retirement I too was given a VSM as if doing me a great favour.

I have, therefore, first hand and officially recorded experience with large scale corruption in the Navy. But, we in the Armed Forces tend to still regard ourselves as holy cows smug in our knowledge that it is only a miniscule percentage of corruption in civil life.

I agree that corruption in public life should be rooted out and that it is really letting down the countrymen when even armed forces big-wigs indulge in it. But, what do we do other than to watch, complain, compare, tweet, accept and observe a holier-than-thou attitude? What can we do? Should we act like the corrupt politician who, when the case is going on and knowing that it would last for years, confidently says: “Let the law take its own course“? This same politician when he is finally convicted by the court says: “This is a political vendetta” or expresses his sheer contempt for the judiciary and says: “Iska faisala to ab janata ki adalat hi karegi” (I await the verdict of the people).

No, we should never be like the corrupt politician finding excuses for our aberrations.

I think the first thing that we can do is to put our own house in order and not be like the government babu in a Khushwant Singh joke who berated his son for having stolen his classmate’s pencil thus: “Shame on you for having stolen your mate’s pencil. Next time when you require a pencil tell me and I shall get you from my office”.

Like Jesus in the Mary Magdalene case, the first stone should be cast by the one who has not sinned.

The second thing is to remember that there is no small or big corruption. Corruption is corruption whether in small or big things; period. I am reminded of an English gentleman in a train who suddenty lowers his newspaper and addresses the only other passenger in the compartment, a lady thus: “I say you are a pretty lady and I have fallen for you. I would like to spend a night with you….no, please don’t be shocked. As you can make out I am really very rich. I shall give you a million pounds for the act”.

The lady is taken aback during the conversation but the million pounds makes her think. She quickly gets over her confusion and scruples and mutters, “Well, I think for a million pounds I will go through with it”.

At this the English gentleman says, “Okay, then how about having it with me on that seat now for 5 pounds”.

The lady is clearly enraged and shoots back, “What do you think I am?”

He says, “That we have already decided, ma’am; we are only haggling over the price”.

So, that’s really the crux: Are we really honest when we point a finger at others or are we just haggling over the price in the same manner as we do it with a policeman or railway TTE or the babu in the office?

The third is the advice given by former President Dr Abdul Kalam when I invited him to deliver a talk at the College of Naval Warfare whereat I was the director just before retirement. He was asked what do we do to stop staggering corruption in India. His advice: “Begin with yourself and extend it to your family; if every man or woman and family becomes honest we can still have India free of corruption”.

In 1969 when corruption in Indian public life had still not become endemic and institutionalised Mrinal Sen’s movie Bhuvan Shome was released. Utpal Dutt played the title role and is a strict disciplinarian, a dedicated civil servant in railways who is fanatic about rooting out corruption. When he visits a remote town in Gujarat, a TTE there, played by Sadhu Meher, is chastised by him for taking bribes. Gradually, the tough nature of Bhuvan Shome is worked at by Suhasini Mullay, who is Meher’s fiance’. In the end, with his hardness having been cracked, Bhuvan Shome allows Meher to be transferred to a bigger station. The movie ends with Meher breaking this “good news” to his wife, “Meri ab transfer bade station mein ho gayi hai. Aur bade station ka matlab samjhati ho? Jyaada paisa” (I am now transferred to a bigger station. And do you know what bigger station means? More money)

So, that is another thing that we can do: not to let our bigness and senior rank translate into more perks, privileges and underhand gratification.

Is it that we are honest only because we have not got the opportunity to be otherwise?

The last is contained in the lines of the song I heard when I was small:

“Vo buraai karen, hum bhalaai karen, nahin badle ki ho bhavna” (Let them do the evil and let us do the good; and yet we should never be vengeful)

It is because in Eugene O’ Neil’s words: “No man’s guilt is not yours; nor is any man’s innocence a thing apart.”

NONE OF US ARE PERFECT, BUT…..

I was the Signal Communication Officer (SCO) of the newly commissioned ship Ganga, named after the holiest of the Indian rivers. SCO’s job is the most thankless job on board a ship; at least it was during those days. Many officers of the ship felt that they could have done wonders in their particular fields of specialization (such as Anti-submarine Warfare, Gunnery, Engineering, Helicopter operations and Missiles) if only the signal had reached them in time. I was soon to learn that signals on a ship are never so important unless – like monthly periods of a maiden girl – they are missed.

It is, therefore, the earnest desire of every SCO to pray that the ship would get all signals well in time. All SCOs’ anthem is the Railway Signalman’s song that goes like this:

It’s not my job to run the train,
The whistle I can’t blow;
It’s not my job to say how far,
The train’s allowed to go.

It’s not my job to let off steam,
Nor even to clang the bell;
But let the damn thing run off the track,
And see who catches hell.

We were going off for two days sailing when just before sailing a signal was received from Dunagiri, a Leander class frigate commanded by the Navy’s most upcoming officer of his rank at that time, Commander Vinay Singh. His ship had completed a refit and he had invited my Commanding Officer together with important dignitaries from the Command Headquarters including C-in-C, Fleet including the Fleet Commander, Dockyard including the Admiral Superintendent, and various other dignitaries from ships and organisations for a dinner party on board at 1930 hours (7:30 PM) on Saturday. We were scheduled to return to harbour at about 2100 hours (9 PM) a day before that, that is, on Friday.

My Captain knew it was an important party not just because Commander Vinay Singh was bright and everyone was already predicting that his thoroughly professional attitude would one day see him rising to become the Chief of the Naval Staff; everyone knew that the party was going to be very well attended and was an occasion to be seen by the C-in-C, ASD and the Fleet Commander.

Everything was okay for us since we were to return the day before the party, enabling my CO to attend the party on Saturday. There was only one problem. The RPC (Request Pleasure of your Company) signal invited my CO for Saturday but the date given was that of Friday. It was obvious that the Communication department of Dunagiri had goofed it up. My CO wanted me to check up and confirm the date just before we sailed. He said if it was going to be on Friday he would like to return a few hours early so that he could attend the party. My course mate Lieutenant Commander Lalit Kapur was the Executive Officer (XO) (second in command) on Dunagiri. I sent one of my sailors to check up from the Communication department of Dunagiri; however, to be on the safe side, I also hopped across to meet Lalit and re-confirm the date. Both, the Communication department of Dunagiri as well as the XO assured me that the party was on Saturday. I came back on board Ganga, told this to my CO and we sailed off.

On Friday we returned at the appointed hour of 2100 hours and proceeded to take up a berth just two or three berths away from Dunagiri. As we made our approach to come alongside we noticed there was a party on in full swing on Dunagiri, complete with party lights, naval band etc. My heart sank. I knew that even while we made our approach to the berth my CO would want to eat me up or convert me into a space shuttle and send me into outer space. Rage was building up in him even whilst he feigned calm in giving the conning orders for the ship. As soon as we were alongside he fulminated. Most of what he told me (or rather screamed) cannot be printed here. However, the softer version was to do with how the bloody communicators cannot be trusted with anything and could easily f— up the simplest of things.

I too was furious. Why couldn’t Lalit tell me about the correct date? I can understand both ships communication departments botching it up. But, why did Lalit had to do this to me?

So, whilst my CO was moping in his cabin I went to Dunagiri to call Lalit out of the party and ask him for an explanation. I reached their quarterdeck and sent the quartermaster to call out Lalit from the party. Lalit came and I proceeded to dress him down for the botch up. He just kept smiling; his smile getting bigger with every invective that I was throwing at him.

Finally, he said, “Well, Ravi, the party is still tomorrow. This is our CO’s idea of a dress rehearsal so that nothing would go wrong tomorrow”.

I returned on board to tell this to my CO. His laughter could be heard at the other end of dockyard.

LEADERSHIP LESSON #1

Life’s little things are the ones that teach you more than bigger events. I spent thirty-seven years in the Indian Navy and I am convinced my life was moulded because of the small nuggets that came my way. I shall periodically try to recollect some of these in this blog. This is the first of these nuggets.

I was posted at Navy’s Leadership School at Coimbatore in South India when I was fairly young, as a Lieutenant. A Leadership Course at Indian Naval Ship Agrani (to be pronounced as Ug-runh-ee meaning Leading; however, all those who have little knowledge of Hindi, which includes ninety percent of the officers in the Navy, pronounce it as Ag-raan-ee, meaning Fire Queen) is for sailors with about 10 to 15 years of service, as Petty Officers (in Seaman branch) or their equivalents in other branches. In addition to classroom studies about leadership traits, these men are exposed to outdoor exercises to observe their individual and team attributes.

One of the outdoor exercises was a trek from Needle Factory near a hill station named Coonoor to the foothill of Ooty hills (Nilgiris). It was not meant to be a competition but since the entire lot of sailors was divided into ‘syndicates’, each with a ‘syndicate officer’ in charge, competition was bound to arise. So, as each one of the syndicates would run or walk along the difficult hilly trail, it was not just a test of endurance and hill – navigation skills but also of team spirit and various other qualities that make a leader at the level of those sailors. Sailors were dressed in what was called FSMO – Field Soldier Marching Order, complete with boots, a heavy rucksack, water bottle etc; whereas, we as officers accompanying them, were dressed in simple fatigues with sports shoes.

We, as young ‘syndicate officers’ would have secret bets of a few bottles of beer as to whose ‘syndicate’ would win the race.

I had never been a topper at sports but this trek in the hill was my favourite. Being from the hills in Himachal, this was one sport that I was good at and could actually beat others in. I had therefore been happy recipient of many bottles of beer that had come my way, despite the fact that I often had to compete with another officer who was also from the hills in Himachal.

On this particular occasion, I was sure of winning since we were leading the whole lot. Engine Room Artificer Third Grade (ERA3) Khan, who finally won the Best Leader award in that batch and I were trailing our syndicate of about 30 sailors since Khan was good at everything except a hilly trek. The nearest syndicate was about 200 metres behind and we were nearing the Kalar Gardens, the end point of the trek; a trek that our youth and spirit had converted into a competitive race.

Khan was at the verge of giving up many kilometers behind and had indicated to me a number of times that he could not go on any further. I was trying all motivational tricks at my disposal and had somehow brought him to within one kilometer of a sure victory. Suddenly, Khan tripped over a rock and fell. The heaviness of his rucksack made him tumble over. He had bruises on his hands and face and because a sharp rock went into his right calf, he started bleeding profusely from the gash.

I knew the race was over for us. It did not matter anymore since it was Khan that needed to be attended to more than the thought of winning the race and having those beers from my fellow ‘syndicate officers’. I asked the rest of the syndicate to go on whilst I made Khan sit on a flat rock. I took out his right anklet and lifted the trouser cuff to expose the wound on his calf. I had nothing to tend his wound with; so I took out my kerchief and tied it around the bleeding gash. We sat for a few minutes and then I asked him to walk with me to the medical help only a few hundred metres away. He had difficulty walking and so I asked him to lean on me. With his wounded leg even walking was tedious for him. We had forgotten about the syndicate that was following us but now we heard footsteps not so far behind.

I could make out that what weighed on Khan was the heavy rucksack. So in order to make it easier for him I unstrapped the rucksack from his back and strapped it around me. Suddenly, as if some lightening had touched Khan, he started limping and moving forward on his own. I could make out that he was wincing in pain but a few steps later he started jogging, though with extreme difficulty. The kerchief was tied lightly and with all this renewed activity it came off. The gash re-commenced bleeding profusely and I asked him to stop. He would have none of it. He shouted for me to catch up with a war-cry: “Come on, Sir; we can still win the race; you will still have those beers”.

We won the race with Khan nearly collapsing as we caught up with the rest of the syndicate.

It took me years to realize why Khan ran that day even with bleeding leg. It took me still more time to realize how he knew that his syndicate officer had set a wager to win the race, even when we had told no one about the bet and the beers.

IS AMERICA LOSING LEGITIMACY OF POWER?

A few years back my brother travelled by a British Airways flight from Delhi to London. Those were the days when India faced terrorism on regular basis, most of it Pak sponsored. But our protests, frequent proofs of terrorist camps in POK and in Pakistan, and refusal to talk to Pakistan unless it reined Jihadis engaged in cross-border terrorism, fell on deaf years. The reason was that the West was not yet at the receiving end of terrorism. My brother said that the British crew was so put off by the “stringent” security checks before departure at Delhi that immediately after take-off the Captain made an announcement apologizing for such “unnecessary” checks.

Cut now to the present day scenario post 9/11 and the liquid bomb scare. The Time magazine cartoon of the year 2007 showed a man having waded through 7 hours of security checks and having been asked to remove everything. Finally, he had only a boarding pass to cover his manhood. As a final mortification he was asked to show his boarding pass just before boarding the plane.

This only goes to show that the West ignores threats that other countries like India face until they too are exposed to these. After that they go overboard and paranoid with their own measures to protect their own citizens. It goes to such an extent that people are hounded in flights if they have beards or are overheard by flight staff in having “suspicious” private conversations.

Does the West feel that lives of their citizens are more precious than those of, say, Indians?

After 9/11, since America had faced spectacular terrorism at home it engaged other nations in a Global War on Terror. President Bush Senior declared immediately after 9/11 that not only the terrorists but those who “harboured” the terrorists were enemies of the United States. It conveniently forgot that Jagjit Singh Chauhan (or Chohan), the original founder of Khalistan movement, who was openly seditious against India and indulged in terrorist acts, was “harboured” (given asylum) by the United States in 1989 even when the Indian government had cancelled his passport. Why such double standards? Why is one country’s terrorist another country’s “freedom-fighter”? I am not going into the merits or otherwise of Chauhan’s case. But, the fact was that the United States harboured a proclaimed offender of the Indian government.

How would the United States have felt if some country had to give asylum to Saddam Hussein or Osama Bin Laden?

When the global leader indulges in double standards and does exactly what it accuses others of doing, it sounds most preposterous. Two incidents come into my mind; one, terrorism related and the second related to economy. The first is in Jul 2006 when the then Indian Home Minister LK Advani mooted the idea of hot pursuit into POK to flush out terrorists carrying out bloody and fatal attacks against innocent Kashmiris in India. Even though our government and nation did not have the guts to carry this out and it was only an idea, the kind of opprobrium that we earned put a brake on any such “adventurism”. Once again, cut to present day Drone attacks by the US into Waziristan. It has been argued by the United States that these are legal and legitimate in exercise of right to self defence. Some American think-tanks have even put up results of their “research” that civilians in Waziristan actual welcome such attacks. How ironical that India does not have the right to exercise self defence with its irresponsible immediate neighbour but Americans can do it thousands of miles away from home when their civilians are not even directly threatened by the Jihadis?

The second event is about American exhortations to countries like China to end protectionism of their financial institutions and to allow “free flowing” financial transactions. However, post recent recession which started in 2007, mainly caused by Americans’ greed, when the Federal Bank came to the rescue of American banks in trouble, one of the economic writers wrote in the Newsweek that at that stage there was nothing to choose between China and the US.

That brings us to the question of this post: Is America losing legitimacy of power? It is the sole superpower; the global leader militarily, technologically and financially. But, is it losing the moral right to be the leader of the world?

When the decline started two years back, Fareed Zakaria published his thought provoking book ‘The Post American World’. It talked about there being three power shifts in the world in the last 500 years: the first one being the shift of power to the West during the Renaissance; the second being the US becoming the sole superpower after the breakup of USSR; the third is emergence or re-emergence of other powers like China and India.

Simultaneously we had authors like Kishore Mahbubani of Singapore writing about ‘The New Asian Hemisphere: The Irresistible Shift of Power to the East’.

But, I think the book or the concept most relevant to our poser is 1992 book ‘The End of History and The Last Man’ by Francis Fukuyama. It was written at a time when the USSR was collapsing and end of Cold War was in sight. Fukuyama was emphatic about the ascendancy of Western liberal democracy when he said, “What we may be witnessing is not just the end of the Cold War, or the passing of a particular period of post-war history, but the end of history as such: that is, the end point of mankind’s ideological evolution and the universalization of Western liberal democracy as the final form of human government”.

Simultaneous with Fareed Zakaria’s book, Robert Kagan published his seminal work ‘End of Dreams, Return of History’. It bemoaned the autocracies in various parts of the world especially China as being the biggest threat to Western liberal democracy. The interesting point that it brought out was that such order that exists in the world today is not because of goodwill of people but because of foundation laid by American power. He said, “People who believe greater equality among nations would be preferable to the present American predominance often succumb to a basic logical fallacy. They believe the order the world enjoys today exists independently of American power. They imagine that in a world where American power was diminished, the aspects of international order that they like would remain in place. But that’s not the way it works. International order does not rest on ideas and institutions. It is shaped by configurations of power”.

I tend to compare this with the final chapter of Fareed Zakaria’s book in which Zakaria gives guidelines to the US in the post American world. It talks about not just Legitimacy of Power but brings out that Legitimacy is Power. Zakaria exhorts America to maintain excellent relations with everyone, rather than offset and balance emerging powers.

I think America has done, in the last nine years, exactly opposite of that. This has made people all around the world take notice that if this is what can be achieved through Western liberal democracy, why is it better than autocracies and military rules? Lets not forget that both Bush Senior and Tony Blair hoodwinked their respective democracies about WMDs in Iraq against all evidence and intelligence.

In the light of discussions so far, let’s sum up how America has lost Legitimacy of Power:

  • Curiously the US has found it easier to do business with autocracies and military rules than with democracies.
  • The kind of double standards that it has followed on many issues including the most overwhelming issue today of terrorism have tarnished its image.
  • At one time, pre 9/11 era, America was regarded as a “benign” colonial power. Presently, it has put itself in a position where it is being detested not just by the Islamic world.
  • The reason that it is being detested is because it seems not to care for lives of people other than the Americans. For example, at the time of writing this, Wikileaks has brought out how tens of thousands of Iraqi civilians have been killed post 9/11 due to US operations. This is something similar to carpet bombing of Iraqis at the end of Kuwait war.
  • In AfPak region, it demonstrated that it does not even care much for the lives of its own soldiers because it paid the Pakistanis for killing them; the only country in the world to have paid the enemy to kill its own people.
  • Any number of its think tanks have brought out that Pakistan is the biggest exporter of terror in the world. However, the US rewards it by more and more funds to – hold your breath – “fight terrorism and extremism”.
  • It made the pretence of helping Pakistan in flood relief since it is a poor country that cannot afford relief material but simultaneously sold them more F16s. Even Pakistan’s own intelligensia has questioned it. How will F16s be used in fighting terror is anybody’s guess.
  • The criticism that disasters, crises and terror attacks tend to aid American arms and homeland security industries has now started to stick.
  • The great American balancing act, much against Zakaria’s guidelines, now extends to over half the globe from Russia, to Iran, to AfPak, to China.

Dear Obama, as you step on Indian soil for your first official visit, we ask you to take stock of degenerative illegitimacy of power that America enjoys today. Much was expected out of you to right the moral balance after the Bush eras; but, you have failed us. We love the Western liberal democracy; ours is as messy as yours, but, we still love it. We love Americans and we want to be like them. But, the fact is that America has done enough to promote love-hate relationship not only with us but also with many other countries. Your country has coined a catch-phrase: “to protect American interests”. Are you really?

WHOSE GOD IS IT ANYWAY?

We have just concluded the Navratri “celebrations”. I am convinced that people believe that gods must be deaf or sleeping and they need to be woken up with cacophonic music, ear splitting noise of conches and other religious instruments and blaring loudspeakers. It is as if when we did not have technology of woofers and mixers we had no means to reach God.

Earlier we had the Ayodhaya verdict. I sometimes keep comparing our times with times many centuries ago. As compared to then, we have better technical means available now to debate issues. However, I keep wondering whether the quality and impact of debates are any better than, say, during Peloponnesian wars. Is it the destiny of human race to periodically indulge in extreme foolishness and lunacy that do nothing for general upliftment of people? If we believe in God, all land, assets, and people belong to Him. Can some judges actually adjudicate now whether a miniscule portion of that land also belongs to Him or not? God, we are your children but many a times we act as if we are more powerful than even you. I’d rather join the ranks of pagans and atheists than to associate with such religions as divide God’s people.

Let us take the simplistic version of origin of Religion; no, not any particular religion; but just Religion. Many centuries ago, Man realised that there was great deal to be gained by staying together: mutual support, defence against animals and vagaries of Nature, and optimal utilisation of resources, to name a few. However, community living brought with it a set of problems if all the members were to follow their own rules, ethics, and standards. Thus, Religion was born: a set of principles for good community living. There were, however, many problems, dangers, disasters etc that Man was not able to protect himself against even when living in a community and hence the concept of God or gods originated. The philosophy was that anything beyond Man, both individually and collectively, was in the realm of an omnipotent and omnipresent God and all that we had to do was to have faith in Him and He would be our saviour. Indeed, the ancient images of gods included Snake, Sun, Tiger, Lion and all the things Man was afraid of. Thus, when faced with situations beyond his control, Man turned to God for succour. This pleading for succour could be done in many ways. But, Man realised that the best was to do it together in community. Therefore, somewhere along the line Religion got associated with the concept of praying to God. It is not clear whether Religion, being a set of principles for community living, came first or formal praying to God in community came first. However, principles like ‘Thou shalt not steal’ or ‘Thou shalt not covet your neighbour’s wife’ together with Prayers or Petitions to God became essential parts of most religions.

The concepts of Religion and God were refined over the ages and in keeping with the times. However, despite the refinements, because different people interpreted these differently, problems arose. One basic reason why these were interpreted differently was (and is) that logic and reason are more suited for individuals (eg, Lord Krishna reasoning it out with Arjuna before the battle of Mahabharta). More often than not, in collections of people called crowds, mob mentality takes over. So, whereas people individually are adequately reasonable, in crowds they behave at the level of common minimum reasoning laced with jingoism and parochialism. The reason for this is not difficult to fathom; it is an unquestioned faith in tenets of community honed over ages. Armies are built around such philosophies of convenience; ‘Good’ lies with us and ‘Evil’ is what they are. The concepts of jus ad bellum (right to wage war) and jus in bello (just war) also have their origin in this.

Oliver Cromwell, on 5th Aug 1650 wrote thus to the synod of church of England: “I beseech you in the bowels of Christ, think it possible that you may be mistaken”. But, like Rundi K Bakshi, played by Peter Sellers in the movie ‘The Party’, said, “In India we don’t think; we are sure”; there is no question of Indians, belonging to any community, thinking it possible that they may be mistaken. Gods, they feel, have bestowed upon them the burden of being ‘firm in faith’. Translated it means that there is religious merit in locking up good sense and following jus ad bellum unquestionably.

Whenever our collective understanding of tenets that should be followed in a community, that is Religion, became much haywire, we had leaders emerging who brought us back to good sense. These leaders reminded us primarily not to try to prove with mass reasoning that we knew to be intrinsically wrong. These reformists either started a new Religion or their teachings became new Religion. In some cases, like in the case of Hinduism, the religion remained the same but reforms made it better and more suited to emerging times.

As I said earlier, in our collective wisdom, the teachings of these leaders too became subject to interpretations. So when Mohammed said and practised that a Muslim should marry many women, he was talking about succour that such marriages provided to those women who had lost their protectors in war in early seventh century. But, over time, this was interpreted as a right of a Muslim to have many wives. In other religions too such interpretations to suit philosophy of the day became rampant. Our faith demanded that we did not think of these leaders as mere mortals; so we regarded them as gods or the God or prophets of God. Since Religion was close to armies in organisation, blind or unquestioned faith in tenets of the religion and gods was considered a virtue. Hence, people fighting in the name of God or Religion was sanctified in almost all religions. This included even Buddhism.

I think a time has come when we do not require organised Religion at all. We have come way off from the ancient times when Religion provided us with collective defence against Evil and fearful enemies including animals and demons. During those times and many centuries later Religion united us against such forces. But now, Religion has become the biggest divider of people. We should now move from community religion to individual religion. Indeed, Guru Nanak Dev, the founder of Sikhism, and many other reformers, during the major reformative movement of Hindu religion, described Kalyug as a positive era; in that whilst earlier we were praying to God in community, we could, in Kalyug, do it individually. In other words we can be one to one with God. We can evoke the Good within us and kill the Evil within us rather than seeking to destroy or look down upon the enemies or perceived enemies of our Religion. Guru Nanak borrowed a phrase from the Vedas to delineate the entire essence of what should be our Religion: “Man Jeete Jag Jeet” (Conquer your own Mind to conquer the Universe).

God is within us and all around us. We neither have to go to mountains, nor churches, mosques and temples to worship Him or Her. Collective worshipping of God or gods helps no one except to divide communities (who are also the same God’s creations and hence related to us) and only helps the politicians or so called custodians of faith who thrive from such polarisation.

I was very small when I went with my parents to see Hindi (we had not bastardised by calling it Bollywood) movie ‘Dhool Ka Phool’ (A Flower in Dust). But, still the words ring in my mind:

‘Tu Hindu banega na musalmaan banega,

Insaan ki aulad hai insaan banega.’

(My child, you will neither grow up to be a Hindu nor a Muslim; you are a human child and you will grow to become human)

I, for one, shall pray in a Mandir or fight for the right to pray in a Mandir if…..well, if a court can prove to me Ram is to be found or can be prayed to only in a Mandir. Similarly, I shall pray for Allah in a mosque if He can’t be found elsewhere.

When they objected to Guru Nanak for sleeping with his feet towards the mosque because it was the abode of God, he simply asked them to move his feet in a direction where there was no God.

Whose God is it anyway?

FOR BETTER OR FOR VERSE

Here is the first of the collections of my rhymes of the day. These are primarily topical; though some are based on my mood of the day. You can get their full flavour if you recall the news of the day; for example, massacre of Maradonna’s Argentina by Germany in the last Football World Cup.


Read on. A second edition will follow:

Those were the days my friend,
We didn’t have Cut, Copy, Paste and Send.

I could not sleep the whole night long;
Thinking of how every Right just went Wrong;
I wish I could sing a happy song.

Can big teams play BIG football?
Well, the only thing BIG is their fall.

So low are the ways of Indian leaders;
That virtually they are corruption breeders;
Or in other words nation bleeders.

I like the sun, the moon and the flowers;
But, what I like best are the monsoon showers.

Sundays are for rising late,
Sundays are for rest;
But God, when I watch the world cup,
Don’t send any visitor or guest.

England did not have it in them to win;
But they made enough din;
For Lampard’s goal that went in the bin.

Nice to be witness to Brazilian magic;
Thrice Chile was fooled by their trick;
All field goals and no penalty kick.

One is born, works, eats, plays, sleeps, and dies;
Is there nothing else to our lives?
What about Love, its joys and sighs?

“I too want a degree”
Said the Paki son to his dad;
“Okay” said the father, “I can buy BA, MA,
But Phd is the current fad”.

Rain, rain don’t go away;
Please come every day;
Little Rooney never wants to play.

The Samba boys are finally out,
Being done in by the Dutch;
Dont you feel the Brazilians,
Had lost their magic touch?

Massacre of Argentina was a subject,
Klose to Germany’s heart;
And Messi? Well, he,
just proved to be a fart!

“When will India excel in Soccer?”
Asked of his father a son.
He replied, “Only after,
With Cricket, we have done”.

When will realise strikes don’t help;
Except those who, like dogs, yelp.

Muttiah Muralitharan is,
The best off-spinner we ever had;
Now that he is retiring,
We can’t help feeling sad.

People come into your life for a reason.
But, whether or not they stay depends upon the season!

How lovely to have children around;
Oh, don’t we all love the sound,
Of their little feet on floor or ground?

Let’s not make a big fuss,
About Paul the Octopus;
If he was really so bright,
He’d be emitting an Oranje light!

I remember the days they’re small;
And used to see me as a hero.
But now that my kids have grown up,
I ‘ve become closer to a zero.

Come be my love till the end of Time;
But, at least be mine till the end of this rhyme.

‘Tis better not to fall in love,
And keep a steady head;
For she will surely pull the plug,
And leave you cold and dead.

Now that we have found Higgs Bosun,
Can we do without God?
But, after all is said and done,
What if it turns out to be fraud?

Peace with our neighbour Pakistan,
Will never get a chance;
So long as they feel that hatred,
Is the best political stance.

I thought I could live without friends,
And I believed it was true;
But thank God I was wrong,
For I can’t live without you.

The best days are Sundays,
’cause they have my name (Ravi);
Without them there won’t be fun days,
And life would not be the same.

Of all things life makes you learn,
This one you shouldn’t forget;
When you, with envy burn;
You have already lost the bet.

India and Pakistan will always be,
Strange bedfellows;
Who want to get along famously,
But take offence to even “hellos”.

Sometimes you tweet and tweet,
And you still can’t be heard;
Like as if your best feat,
Is simply absurd.

How many total moods are there,
Happy, pining, buoyant and sad?
Counting gets you nowhere,
It only makes you mad.

Every morning I get up,
With resolve to do a lot;
Every night I go to sleep with,
‘Is this all I’ve got?’

Pakistan is part of Western plan,
To keep India in check;
Today Kayani is their man,
Tomorrow it’d be another smart Aleck.

Those who can’t see,
Because they are blind;
Are still better than those,
Who can’t see because of closed mind.

Their sacrifices are in vain,
If we ever forget Kargil;
To fight like that was insane,
Yet they captured Tiger Hill.

Why do we require Wikileaks,
To tell us what we knew all along;
That Pakistan’s support for Taliban,
Took US for a song?

WISH LIST FOR INDIA

India has been a poor country – a very poor country. Suddenly, in the last decade or so, because of our spectacular GDP growth and probably because of the US need to balance China, India started being talked about as a country with great future..a great regional and global power. The fact is that GDP growth is and for a handful of people; the majority of the people has not gained by it. We have more poor in India than all in all the 26 countries of Africa. Our general quality of life and our infrastructure rank amongst the worst in the world. We are amongst the best for wrong reasons like corruption.


Is there no hope for India to become a great nation?

Well, actually there is. India can be a great nation IF:

  • We talk less of freedoms and more about our responsibilities towards the nation.
  • We stop looking at the interests of the small rich minority and look at the interests of the poor.
  • Our people become less selfish about themselves and START to think about the nation.
  • We do something about our abysmally poor infrastructure.
  • We instil discipline in our people especially those who are our netas (leaders). Right now we rank with de most indisciplined.
  • We take ourselves more seriously whilst asking this of US and the rest of the world.
  • We get rid of such individual and collective amnesia. We forget all – including severe insults to nation.
  • We have the courage and good sense to call to task both these so called “public servants”.
  • Our institutions will work for everyone and not for just for the favoured few.
  • Our justice system improves and it does not take decades to decide even the most ordinary cases.
  • We behave like a nation and not parochially like states, castes, communities and provinces.
  • We take our neighbours along the path of progress. We cannot be lotus in filth around us.
  • We revere our scientists, teachers, jawans (soldiers), doctors and engineers more than Bollywood stars, godmen and netas (politicians).
  • We stop defecating, spitting and urinating at public places and keep our places clean.
  • We curb our littering habits and do away with the filth that adorns our cities, towns and villages.
  • We have proper road signs rather than asking hundreds of people how to reach your destination. Right now it is a nightmare.
  • The police in our country becomes less corrupt and people repose faith and trust in it.
  • Our fierce religiosity is replaced by kindness and love and respect for all irrespective of caste, colour and creed.
  • Movies like ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ fill us with resolve to change our lot rather than bask in glory.
  • We spend less time on planning and more on implementation.
  • We think of India all the while and not just in the last over of a twenty-20 match.
  • We do not try to make money for ourselves even in disasters and calamities.
  • We are in as much hurry to do things for de nation as in getting out cell phones in just landed aircraft.
  • We ban criminals from entering politics; if we have minimum acceptable standards for netas (politicians) as we have for other professions.
  • Our intellectuals take up people’s issues rather than only those that earn them popularity.
  • We stop depending on America to sort out problems caused by Pak terrorism.
  • Our transportation improves and becomes people friendly.
  • The costs of our constructions come down and quality goes up. Presently, it is the other way round.
  • We understand other people’s privacy whilst partying and participating in religious processions.
  • Whilst running after modernisation we do not forget our ancient culture and values.
  • We do not beg the world on our knees to be given a seat in UN Security Council but prove ourselves worthy.
  • We do away the lengthy process of compiling and writing Inquiry Reports but do something, however little.
  • We give more impetus to shipping, fishing and other maritime activities that languish in comparison to land based activities.
  • We improve tourism and make our places more attractive to foreigners as compared to the present punishment for them.
  • Rains and other natural phenomena do not make life come to a standstill even in our major cities.
  • Even if 5 % of promises of politicians before elections had come true India would have become the best in the world.
  • Men of character join politics and think of nation first and themselves last.
To be continued…….

EVER THOUGHT WHY – PART I

Sometimes back, on Twitter, I started a new string called ‘Ever Thought Why’. The idea was to marvel at commonplace things and why do they happen the way you do. Here are some:

  • People who claim to be the most virtuous are often the worst?
  • Memories that you thought you had buried forever resurrect when you least expect them?
  • People who bring most happiness to you also hurt you the most?
  • Clouds make lovely shapes in the sky but these shapes vanish the moment you start to identify them?
  • It is easier to forgive others but very difficult to forgive yourself?
  • When buses and trains meet with accidents infants and small children often survive?
  • Life seems longer at times and shorter at others?
  • Thoughts that used to make you happy at one time, make you sad now?
  • You fume, fret and toil to get something but finally you get it without too much of effort?
  • A stashed away note, poem or story gives more joy on being re-found than when you originally read it?
  • Scorching sun lasts the whole day but that enchanting sunset over the sea gets over even before you start admiring it?
  • When you are closest to solving a problem it is exactly the time when the distractions are the most?
  • People have little time to listen to your problems; but, can talk for hours about their own?
  • The music of younger generation will always be annoying to the older generation?
  • Thirty years appear a long time when you look ahead but appear so short when you look back?
  • Butterflies are so beautiful but they never sit at the same place for any length of time?
  • When you have Time and Money you no longer have the Inclination?
  • Some days are longer than others that pass off so quickly?
  • Those we place on high pedestal often slip to the lowest levels?
  • Money is never enough!
  • We easily forget the things we want to remember but find hard to forget those we want to?
  • Most people prevaricate and come up with exalted theories when faced with the truth and facts?
  • Green grass rushes in more memories than the best plants and trees?
  • There is no higher feelig than Love but many a times it also makes you feel at your lowest?
  • The ‘Possibility’ of a thing occurs to us when we say “It’s not possible”?
  • When you finally come to the end you discover it is another beginning?
  • Life’s always talked about as behind us whereas it is what lies ahead; where one is going is more important than where one was.
  • It takes many things to make a person happy but it takes very little to make him sad?
  • Things never work unless we make them work?
  • It is easier to give advice than to follow it?
  • A towel should ever get dirty?
  • We resolve not to see another Bollywood movie or to see a Cricket match but we always do?
  • When one makes up one’s mind never to repeat a mistake one is not given another chance?
  • We call a person very interesting? Well, simply because he is a good listener?
  • People are bad when they cannot keep their word; but, when you break a promise it was unreasonable demand to start with?
  • Love too needs to be nurtured and cannot be left to itself to grow and become stronger?
  • Tears and rain have the same ingredient but the former is really more precious?
  • One can be totally alone amongst friends too; conversely, totally crowded by just one person around?
  • It requires courage to do things right away but cowardice to keep postponing it?
  • It always starts with a bang but ends with a whimper?
  • The words “next time” do not quite bring out the sincere intention but sound more as an excuse?

WHY HOPE?

There is the story of a doctor having told a patient that he had tried everything to save the patient and had finally come to the conclusion that nothing would work at that hopeless stage. “Is there anything that you would want to do before you die?” the doctor asked. Even though the patient was feeble and despondent, his response was prompt, “Yes, I would like to see another doctor.” Truly, life exists for us as long as hope exists. Robert Browning, the great poet of hope and optimism, in his poignant poem titled ‘Evelyn Hope’, had this to say at her death:

“So hush, I’ll give you this leaf to keep,
See, I put it in the cold white hand.
Now there is our secret that goes to sleep;
You will wake up and remember and understand!”

We may not be aware but a considerable part of our day is taken up with hopes. These are routine hopes. Small or big but they keep us going. Here are a few examples:

  • We hope that the number that we have dialed, especially if it is that of Railway or Airport Enquiry would not be engaged.
  • We hope that the milkman or the maidservant won’t be sick the next morning.
  • We hope that Indian and especially Mumbai roads would improve.
  • We hope that there won’t be a wedding party in the club next door so that children could study.
  • We hope that finally after finishing the work around the house when we step into the bathroom the water won’t play truant.
  • We hope that no one would ring the doorbell when we watch our favourite TV programme.
    We hope that the boss in office won’t think of another new and bright idea.
  • We hope that when finally we get our turn, the doctor won’t be called for “something important”.
  • We hope that sanity would somehow return to Pakistan.
  • We hope that finally we would be able to repay the house loan so that we can start calling it ‘Apna Ghar’.
  • We hope that the next Hindi movie that we watch would have a different story.
  • We hope that one day the duration of TV programmes would be more than that of the advertisements.
  • We hope that our politicians, bureaucrats, and police personnel would understand the true meaning of the term ‘public servant’.
  • We hope that the noise during the forthcoming festival season would be restricted and public places such as roads would be free for the use for which they are made.

There is no end to it. We hope and hope and hope. Sometimes, some of our hopes come true directly or indirectly and make us happy. However, always it is worth hoping for. Our son, for example, is a die-hard Indian cricket team fan. They can be 143 for 6, requiring another two hundred runs to win but he still hopes that they would win. Once he was proved right, the night when even Kaif’s parents went to see ‘Devdas’ rather than be witness to sure ignominy. Since then, it is not he but we who hope. We hope that there won’t be another ODI during the exams!

Hope is like sunshine through the clouds. It is like raindrops on parched land. Hope is a lighthouse by which we steer our ship in troubled waters. However, hopes transcend the boundaries of mere wants and desires when we do so selflessly. Supposing all people on earth would hope that poverty, hunger and violence would be wiped out forever; do you think they would stay? Supposing some of us would hope to see the smile on the face of a child who lost his parents in bomb blasts, do you think it would never come back? How wonderful the world would be if each of us would hope for something for others at least once in a month!

The other day I was reading about Mata Amritanandamayyi. Why would everyone, from famous to rich, from poor to hungry, from strong to helpless come to see her or be hugged by her? She hopes for others and provides them with a ray of hope.

Yes, it is alright to hope for promotion, for a better house, for a gift or reward, for a holiday and more pay. It is even okay to hope for “zara si lift kara de.” However, once in a while one must hope something for others.

“Lead kindly light,
Keep thou my feet.
I don’t want to see
The distant scene;
One step enough for me.”

In a small village called Ayikuddy near Tirunelvelli, my wife and I went to see a polio rehabilitation centre called ‘Amar Seva Sangam’ and discovered the very embodiment of Hope. The President and all staff of the centre are invalid. The President, Mr Ramakrishnan, is so paralytic that he requires help to even turn in bed. His condition became so when he had an accident many years ago at the time when he was about to join the Navy as a commissioned officer. Yet when we saw him he had the most beatific smile on his face. He runs a centre that provides succour to other polio stricken children. In his hopeless situation he provides hope to hundreds of young boys and girls! After that whenever our own situation is unfavourable, our faces light up when we think of him.

Hope never dies. Next only to Life, it is the second greatest gift of God to us. Why hope? Hope, so as to live better and make others live better. Some four letter words are not bad at all!

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