How did we reach here?

Something about hometowns makes you want to write.

It isn’t the same with cities we choose to settle in. It takes months, often years or decades – to belong. And the reason for our moving wasn’t always to create great art, or document our priceless thoughts. It was to earn organic brown bread.

But as I was surfing through my hometown on a white Activa, my bloodstream flush with bhang and bhog and the last remaining assets of Vijay Mallya, I noticed something peculiar. The Odisha government had put up a huge hoarding of large, willful defaulters. Names along with their organisation and the amount defaulted. For some reason, it brought a smile to my face. These willful defaulters had done me no harm. And yet, I seemed to gloat in their public humiliation.

Won’t it be wonderful if this was done all over the country, I thought. When I reached home, I found that the Yogi government in UP has put up names of anti-CAA protesters on large hoardings in Lucknow.

Those who had protested against the CAA have their names, photograph and addresses in large, bold letters for everybody to read. Not after a court ruling or arrest warrant, but because they protested. I mean, what the fuck? Why not just go full Taliban, then? Come in blue robes and execute people on open streets already.

What is even more shocking is that nearly 40 people died in the riots that took place last week. And yet, it doesn’t seem to affect us. Other news items that have taken over – India playing Australia in the Women’s World Cup finals, Yes Bank putting the ‘No’ in nosediving. The annual hollow celebration of Women’s Day so brands and business conglomerates can make more money. And Coronavirus.

The death of 40 people a little over a week ago seems to have vanished from our memories.

But how did we reach here? A decade ago, as a Journalism student, we were asked to track and collate news items. I remember if there was a riot or a death caused by mob violence, it would remain in the news cycles for at least a week. Rewind the clock further back to 20 years as a school student. When the Gujarat riots occurred, news and opinions ran for nearly two weeks. The photograph of the tailor who’d lost his shop troubled me at night. And yet, the death of 40 people doesn’t seem to bother us anymore.

How did we reach here?

I remember when Yogi Adityanath was appointed as the Chief Minister. I found it absurd and shocking. This was a person who had openly instigated violence and riots. Someone who had promised to install statues of gods and goddesses in mosques. Someone who dressed in saffron robes and was the head-priest in a temple. Imagine if a bearded, topi-wearing mullah asshole became the Chief Minister of one of India’s states. We would all collectively lose our minds. But nobody batted an eyelid when Yogi was made the Chief Minister. ‘‘Yogi’ is just a name, man’, one of my friends said. Sure! And diarrhea is just over-processed food! But we didn’t reach here due to Yogi Adityanath.

The journey began years ago, when terms like ‘Anti-national’ and ‘Presstitude’ were formed. Back then, the words seemed like idiotic creations of Twitter trolls. But what we failed to notice was that these were ways to undermine any criticism against the government. How do you ridicule the credibility of criticism? Completely rob the critic of any ethics first. These terms slowly became mainstream, spreading into the country’s veins like slow-acting heroin.

The journey began years ago when we realised we needed a Prime Minister with good oratory skills. Look at the US, man! Have you seen their Presidential debates? It looks professional, man. Not like our sad, fucking debates. We lost the plot when we as a nation decided that oratory skills featured among the key skills required by the most powerful man in our country. It’s another matter that the same man stopped giving Press Conferences or interviews shortly after coming to power. It also didn’t matter to us that there wasn’t anybody of significance in the Cabinet. With Arun Jaitley and Sushma Swaraj gone, the government is a throwback to 90s cricket when an entire team of nobodys worked around Sachin Tendulkar.

The journey began when we stopped digging deeper; when we stopped expecting more from our leaders. What option do we have, yaar? Would you rather want Congress in power? Rahul Gandhi? That clowning glory of embarassment? When instead of looking for higher and more, we started comparing our future with the most hollow, shallow, ass-licking dementor of our past – the Congress party.

*

But it is foolish to only blame the Right-wing for this mess. Like they say in hinterlands, ek wing se taali nahi bajti. The Left in India is also responsible for the mess that we are in.

The Indian Left is the most obtuse, idiotic assortment of half-ass intellectuals there is in the world. The group of people who go by the generic tag of the ‘Indian Left’ have no ideology or common ground. While some are staunch atheists, the others openly wear their Muslim identity on their sleeves. That the two stances are at odds with each other doesn’t seem to bother anyone. It is celebrated as ‘diversity’.

The Indian Left is so bereft of ideas and leadership that Swara Bhaskar is now the face of the Left. Really? Swara Bhaskar?? Of all the people you could have chosen to represent you – you chose this actress whom nobody knows. Whose body of work – Ranjhana and Veere di Wedding – is an embarrassment to cinema and taste?

The Indian Left is so bereft of ideas that there is practically no difference between a Congress politician and a Leftist public intellectual. That you could be forgiven for confusing a Congress political scion with a Leftist journalist who spent their entire careers with their tongues on the rectums of politicians.

But the biggest blow by the Indian Left to Indian citizenry is to blow away their credibility. To weaken their own words by crying wolf over stupid issues, by indulging in hyperbole and reducing the impact of their own words. When liberals use words like ‘fascist’ loosely, they are doing two very important things.

1. They are insulting the memory and lives of people who went through actual fascism. By randomly throwing comparisons between Modi and Hitler, you are selfishly using the death of millions of people to make a political point on Twitter. No matter what Modi does, it will never be the same as putting millions of Jews in Auschwitz.

2. The second and far bigger danger is that of desensitisation. When you use words like ‘Dictator’ and ‘mass-murderer’ loosely, you’re essentially reducing the impact of the words. Gradually, people become immune and desensitised to the words. To a point where nothing seems scary or dystopian enough. It is something even a kid playing Trump cards will tell you – don’t use up your Trump cards in the beginning, for you’ll have nothing else to show later.

It is something that can be seen in public political discourse today. When liberals use terms like ‘Hitler’ or ‘Fascist’ – the words don’t mean anything anymore. The words have been de-fanged, the public have become numb to such statements. Today, no matter what Indian Liberals say, they will never be taken seriously. For all its intellectual heft, the Indian Left has a brain with a cleft.

*

So, where was I all along?

For the last four years, I was wearing noise-cancellation earphones. I didn’t bother putting my opinion out. On one hand, I was unsure if it would make any difference. On the other hand, I constantly wondered which side of the debate I was feeding into.

Both the Left and the Right in India comprise of fuckwits who cannot see beyond their own bigotry and ideological myopia. To truly stay sane in India, one must realise that Buddha was right all those hundreds of years ago – Follow the Middle Path. Fuck the Right, Fuck the Left.

It took me all this time to realise that there is no real difference between the Left and the Right in India. They are both petty, ideologically hollow echo-chambers that consider themselves superior than the other.

*

And that is how, dear friends, we reached this point in our nation’s history. When the Right is too complacent to care. And members of the Left are bumping into each while sleepwalking.

Why I stayed away from the Aamir Khan Intolerance debate

I have spent a good part of the last five years on Facebook.

Not the early days, when Facebook was a glorified Orkut, and people were still sharing pictures, stalking pretty girls, and generally being nice to each other. Not that Facebook.

I am talking about the Facebook where people log in at 9 AM, and pour out their fears, beliefs, and political ideologies when dear old Facebook asks them ‘What’s on your mind?’

However, through much of last week, I filled my wall with terrible PJs.

Eg. Every Diwali, I loathe those holier than thou messages. ‘Diwali mein Ali hai, Ramzan mein Ram hai. Toh? Mongolia mein Mongia hai, naachun, behenchod?’

It’s not much of a joke, to be honest. But I put my foot down and refused to get drawn into an argument over the Aamir Khan intolerance debate. Here’ why.

IT IS FUCKING STUPID.

It is something the media does, and something we fall for, every single time. This is their modus operandi. At a press event, ask somebody who has NO relation to politics, a political question.

It might be a Baba who just spent a good part of his afternoon twisting his hand around his back and bringing it out from the front. It might be an actress who has spent a decade in India but can barely speak an Indian language. Or an actor who has been in movies since he passed out of school.

If you ask me about Quantum Physics, I’ll probably say gravity is caused by a gigantic underground spider’s asshole.

We need to stop asking political questions to our religious heads, actors and sportspersons. For one, they haven’t spent time in colleges, reading and getting an informed opinion on issues. And they are bound to mouth something idiotic.

WHICH IS WHAT THE MEDIA LOVES.

 

The Aamir Khan incident was another example of their terrific acumen. They take a portion of a speech, print out reams of paper and pages on the web, and leave the rest of us to trip over it tirelessly on our Facebook pages.

I am growing weary of Facebook by the day. The way Facebook is going, makes you wish back fondly for Orkut. Orkut days were actual achhe din. You logged in, said nice stuff to people you knew, checked the profiles of people you liked, and went back to desibaba.com. Simpler days.

Ever since the Anna Hazare movement – the Big Bang of online activism – happened, all of Facebook has slowly turned into a Wasseypur. On one side you have the jingoistic right, and on the other the cynical left. The Centre doesn’t matter. Because Rahul Gandhi.

And the online Wasseypur is at it for half a decade now. The Left liberals throng one corner of the space. They are the kinds that the enemies like to refer to as Sickulars and Presstitudes. Because let’s face it, if there is ONE group keeping things classy on the internet, it is the BJP.

The liberals are the Ramadhir Singhs. Experienced, softer, but incisive and effective. The BJP guys are the Khans. Faizal, Daanish, and Sardar Khan. They are inexperienced, but hot-blooded. The kinds who begin shooting at the drop of a hat, going berserk, living their online lives on the edge, for they may be blocked or deactivated at any point.

 

I used to be a part of the mob, too. I used to put up my political musings on my wall, and gently collect the logs together, bring my friends, and light the wood. And then I would sit and watch the fire grow, twisting the wood a bit, blowing into it, adding a little fuel to the fire.

And I would spend days engaging in such arguments. But these days, I feel like Bheeshma. I want to lie on my bed of arrows and watch the proceedings, but pray do not draw me into the quagmire, O Shakuni!

At the end of a week, we all proved that Aamir Khan was right all along.

I mean, the guy said something, it got twisted into something else, and everybody lost their fucking minds. And so what if he said it, man? Big fucking deal.

I have felt the same way many a time. There have been lots of times I wished I could leave the country. In spite of me being born here, my country doesn’t give me the best amenities. I am an honest, law-abiding citizen who contributes to the nation’s economy.

What do I get in return? Terrible government healthcare, abysmal transportation facilities, a police force that is both sloppy and slimy. There have been moments I have wanted to leave the country because I couldn’t take a walk on a road with a woman I like. Without having people call names, or flash their dicks out.

I have felt like leaving the country a lot of times. And it doesn’t make me an evil person. And even if it does, fuck you. You’re not the Taliban. I will say what I want to say. You can go fuck yourselves, guys.

 

Uh, oh.

I just wrote an angry, rant-y blog about the issue. Damn it.

You see what I mean? I need to leave Facebook, man.

Fuck Facebook.

The Appropriation of Bihar

The recently concluded Bihar elections was the most interest in Bihar I have ever seen.

Till a few weeks back, Bihar was the joker in the pack. The easiest to ridicule, get laughs out of. When someone says they’re from Bihar, a silence follows, since nobody wants to say anything.

Behind their backs, jokes about rickshawalas, uneducated paan-chewing brutes are cracked, and consumed. Even Atal Bihari Vajpayee, who was the bloody Prime Minister of the country, was ridiculed for being, afterall, a ‘Bihari’.

But he’s Vajpayee, and he’s a poet and stuff, so you can’t fuck with him. He quickly replied that he is ‘Bihari’, yes. But he is also ‘Atal’ (firm).

The point is, till last week, Bihar didn’t figure in the serious landscape of the regular Scroll-consuming Facebooker.

 

Now suddenly, everybody wants to talk about Bihar.

People who haven’t been to the state even once, have no idea what it was bifurcated into, or even the names of the parties contesting. Today, everybody wants a piece of Bihar.

And the entire discussion is from two view-points.

1. Those who feel Bihar committed a gigantic mistake because by not voting for Modi. Which automatically means they didn’t vote for BJP, which automatically means they don’t want development. They want to live in sand dunes and drink water by plucking cactuses and sucking out the water. I met one guy who had had a few beers, and he was going about banging doors screaming ‘Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack’ for at least two hours.

Even before the election, Modi spoke about there being some problem with the Bihari ‘DNA’. After the loss, a BJP member said Biharis deserve to be ‘rickshawallahs’.

She only said it because she could. Because you can say something like that against Biharis, but not against Marathis. Cos those guys will break shops and set fire to police vans if you do. Our entire opinion of Bihar has been at best, terribly condescending.

Which, well, is exactly the kind of thing I’d expect from a Modi fanboy anyway. I admit the huge generalization I am making, but allow me to make my point.

It has been more than a year that Modi was elected the Prime Minister of India, and we are yet to get an objective opinion on the guy. BJP fans believe they own Modi, and accept no criticism whatsoever against the man. Which is rather sad. He’s the country’s Prime Minister guys, not the chief of a political party. But BJP guys run to save him like he still belongs to them.

*

The second opinion is of the kind I’d generously typecast as the ‘liberals’, which sadly, has been reduced to an anti-Modi brigand. The kind who shares articles by Scroll and says that Tipu Sultan was a noble king who fed milk and honey and almonds to pigeons on his terrace.

On this side of the fence, there were celebrations and revelry. ‘Bihar, you made us proud today!’.

Really? Who the fuck is ‘us’ anyway?

You think the Bihari voter gives a fuck about your issues? Have you lived in Bihar? Apart from stopping Modi, does anything else about the election affect you? To cheer for Laloo Prasad Yadav, the poster boy of bovine corruption puts in question your support all along for politics free of corruption and dynastical politics.

Laloo’s Rashtriya Janata Dal won the most seats in this election, and his party has the most number of MPs with criminal records.

But we shall appropriate Bihar and celebrate an imagined victory because it validates our stance against Modi on a fucking Facebook debate! Wah, bhai!

*

To me, it was always a game of numbers. When the two largest parties of a state get together to keep you out, there isn’t much you can do. It’s like AIADMK getting together with DMK in Tamil Nadu – what can you possibly hope to win?

Flying in Modi and his promises in the last moment might not really affect one’s opinion. With 40 parliamentary seats from Bihar, it is a game that is mired in identity politics, caste and hereditary loyalty.

May be it is a problem that BJP’s entire campaign was built on development, and it still didn’t work. May be the Bihari voter has nothing to do with FDI and foreign trips and personal suits with names embroidered into it.

*

As it is, Bihar has landed itself in a quagmire.

What happens after the dust settles? With the common enemy ousted, and Laloo’s RJD having won the most seats, how long is the bonhomie going to last? How safe can a ship sail when the captain doesn’t have the largest crew?

Bihar has its own issues to deal with. Appropriating Bihar to fill the colour of the lens you see the world with, doesn’t amount to jackshit.

It makes a rat’s ass of a difference.

Such a ‘Policey’ thing to do

Indian Police doing what they do best. Humiliate law-abiding citizens.

In a nation where women get raped, men get killed, and Bollywood stars gift puppies to their girlfriends, it is difficult for news to sustain any sort of shelf life.

Which is why the news of Mumbai Police picking up 40 couples from hotels, and parading them on the road like petty pickpockets, will hardly make the news. A few hashtags here, Arnab Goswami beheading someone there, and that’s it.

And yet, the incident angered me no end.

It has long been the job of Indian Police’s duty to fuck the happiness of the people of the country. In our country, you cannot hold your partner’s hand. Forget kissing, you cannot even hug your partner, without incurring the wrath of uncles, aunties, shopkeepers, beggars, stray dogs, bacteria, plasmodium, the five elements – and cops. Most importantly, cops.

For you see, there is no greater threat for you on the road, than khaki-wearing morons who have the license to weild sticks, pull up anybody for interrogation, and deal with them as they like.

When I am out with a girl, it is not really a sex offender I am afraid of. You can deal with a sex-offender. Raise your voice, be assertive, draw attention – a sex offender is afraid of the law. I am more scared of cops – because cops fear no one. The law is but an old underwear that they can remove and discard as they please.

Having been stopped by cops on numerous occasions, this is usually the drill that ensues. The cop will first stop me, and call out to me to come towards him, like I’m a petty criminal.

I am a Research scholar, and the cop is a Tenth pass, unfit moron who can’t speak three lines in any language, and yet I have to address him as ‘Sir’.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Nothing, sir. We are just sitting, sir’.

‘Is this the time to sit? (Turns to the girl) What’s your name?’

The girl by now is scared, or embarassed.

‘Do your parents know you are here? Should I call them? Huh? Tell me? What’s your name? Are you from a good family? Do girls from good families do such stuff? Should I call your parents – yes or no, tell me’.

What follows is half an hour of nagging, coaxing and cajoling. Which usually ends when I take out some hard earned money and grease his filthy palms. It is ironic that the Police was instituted to make citizens feel safe and secure. And yet, the first thing people want to do in India, is avoid the cops. We fear them, these lawless creatures of the night, who prowl on everybody they see. These khaki-colored creatures who can only be satiated with some money, like you’d feed a hungry stray dog.

Think I am going overboard? Well, when was the last time you met a polite, informed, fit policeman? When was the last time you dealt with the cops and came out of the room feeling good about things? If you did, well, good for you. I have never met one of such kind.

The couples, who had paid their own money, booked a hotel to spend time together, were rounded up, slapped, and had to walk around with their faces covered. The entire operation was led by visionary DCP Vikram Deshpande, who pesonally supervised the operations. This is how the meeting must have gone:

‘Sir, what do we do today? Kuchh mazaa nahi aa raha hai’.
‘Hmmm…I know what you mean…’
‘Sir, there have been chain-snatching incidents all over the city. Also, Mumbai is perenially vulnerable to terrorist attacks – ‘
‘Wait, I know what we can do. Let’s raid rooms and haul up young couples who are having sex…cos how can they have sex when we can’t have sex? You know with all our paunches and stuff…’
‘Great idea, sir. Let’s go…abey, gaadi nikaal…’

Such an appropriate logo – ‘Zyada baat kiya, toh Ek doonga, kheenchke’. Also, keep your right hand free. Don’t masturbate. It’s not a good habit.

Also, it is not merely the attitude of the police alone. It is an Indian middle-aged problem. Ask anybody middle aged in India, even your own parents, about the incident. The one response you’ll get is ‘Well, they shouldn’t have booked rooms in a hotel. Who does indecent stuff like that?’

We are fine with fucking our brains out and producing babies like rabbits, but someone using protection and doing it for pleasure – Nahi re, baba. Sanskriti bhrasht ho jayegi.

And that is the sad reality of the country. We endure shitty laws, shitty lawmakers, sub-Saharan standards of public utilities, unsafe streets, and terrorists on our way to work. And the force we are supposed to trust – is just this bunch of fat, unfit, uncivilised jokers who chase AK-47 weilding terrorists with sticks.

Who choose to display their masculinity by rounding up innocents, because they know a terrorist isn’t going to pay a bribe. Who have passed an exam, and run 100 meters, and joined an elite force who can stop you anytime, slap you, humiliate you, and laugh in your face as you walk out helplessly.

The Indian Police is a gigantic bunch of jokers. They invoke fear and hatred in you. They carry weapons, and use force when they deem fit. They wear uniforms, and don’t treat you like humans. How are they different from miliants, again?

*****

How We Made a Criminal into a Martyr

The ruckus behind Yakub Memon’s hanging had me baffled.

For someone who updates social media on issues, I was truly clueless about the entire hullabaloo. People had begun calling it an ‘injustice’, some others a travesty and a few others had gone to the extent of calling it a ‘shame to a democracy’.

Somewhere amidst this noise, I had to sit back and scratch my head. What did I really miss??

*

I can understand the call for abolishing death penalty.

That is a debate that has existed for long. Most nations that consider themselves ‘evolved’ or civilized have abolished it. I am not erudite enough to comment on the issue, I can’t claim to know the nuances of the debate.

What I do know, and am fully convinced about, is belief in the law of the land.

In a way, I was proud of the fact that a criminal was even given debate and discussion on a national scale. In most of our neighbouring countries, he would have been chopped to salad, and nobody would even know when it happened.

Of course, I do not endorse it, I’m merely stating the facts. The entire debate and discussion probably reflected our civility as a nation.

 

What disturbed me, however, was how nobody seemed to speak of his crimes anymore.

The only point of discussion was of him ‘helping’ Indian intelligence authorities in their investigation. This, apparently, ought to have gotten him a pardon, made him above the law of the land, which had spent 22 years to run its course. The other argument was that he was being hung for the crimes of his brother.

 
The intelligence in that statement can be gauged by the fact that it was echoed by Salman Khan, that well-read intellectual from Bandra.

 
Also, the last time we showed mercy on criminals and kept them in jails, here is what happened. The Kandahar hijackers demanded the release of Mushtaq Ahmed Zargar, Ahmed Omar Saeed Sheikh and Maulana Masood Azhar.

What did these dudes do after they were released?

The World Trade Centre attacks of 9/11, the kidnapping, and beheading of Daniel Pearl. And oh, remember the Mumbai terror attacks? Those too.

 

Strangely, whenever Yakub’s activities were spoken about, it was in an off-handed manner, like an accepted theorem – ‘Yes, he did commit those crimes, BUT – ’

As a media student, I think most of it is to do with public perception of an incident.

Let’s compare this with another incident that provoked the nation’s fury in the last few years. Ram Singh & Co.’s rape of Jyoti Singh Pandey in December 2012.

The same liberals who poured their heart out on my wall last week, had been crying hoarse – ‘Hang the rapist’.

That was because the facts were out there in the public. They had beaten the girl black and blue, broken her bones, inserted a rod into her vagina, kicked her till her intestines came out – the gory details were all out in the public. There was a face to the victim, a name (even though it wasn’t out for long). At the same time, there was a face to the criminals too – they had names, faces, homes.

But the Mumbai blasts of 93 were more or less faceless.

Except Dawood Ibrahim and Tiger Memon, no faces or names floated in the minds of the public. It was just that – Bombay Blasts. A sad incident where people lost their lives. Like they do on trains everyday. Or if there is a stampede at a holy river.

The Mumbai blasts had no face.

 

That, and the fact that decades have passed since the incident, softens our stand. We begin to look at the peripheries, the tangents, and miss the gaping black hole in the middle.

Well, Yakub Memon wasn’t an innocent victim of circumstances.

Duryodhana was the more evil among the brothers. Doesn’t mean Dushasana was a saint!

 

To all you people who cried, spoke your voice, and pasted links to articles on my wall, here’s what Yakub Memon did.

He was a sharp student. After securing his Chartered Accountant’s degree in 1991, he was fudging accounts for his brother Tiger Memon by 1992.

Yakub Memon managed the funds for his brother. He arranged the money to buy bombs and guns. He fudged accounts to ensure they weren’t traced back to him.

He bought the cars and scooters in which the bombs were planted. Flats owned by him were used to plan the whole conspiracy. He supervised and distributed the guns and weapons, saw to it that they were well-hidden.

He bought and arranged air tickets for the accused to escape away to Pakistan, joining them when he thought it was a safer option for his family.

 

Perhaps reading The Times of India everyday has made us dumb.

Yakub Memon lived in Pakistan, enjoyed the luxury of their hospitality along with his family for nearly a year. By then, the investigation in India had picked up pace. All the signs were hinting towards Pakistan’s involvement.

By any shred of common logic, Pakistan wasn’t going to be feeding and keeping him safe. He only returned to India when he was a liability. When his family was in danger.

 

The blasts killed more than 300 people.

Innocents died. Hawkers who would stand under the sun and sell and earn peanuts. Employees who were on their way to earn an honest living. Common people who were neither communal, nor conniving with Bal Thackeray.

Just regular people going about their lives, were blown to bits. And Yakub Memon was at the epicenter of it all.

He was no saint. He was a sneaky, conniving bastard who ran away after engineering the blasts, and returned when he realized it was the safest option.

 

And what did the debate result in?

More than 35,000 people congregated at his funeral. Political parties like AIMIM claimed it was a conspiracy against Muslims.

Yakub Memon had set out to die for the cause of Islam. He failed, but we made sure he succeeded in the end.

We made a criminal a martyr.

Congratulations, India!!

******

 

WELL DONE, ORISSA !!

With most Oriyas, the most common complaint is the lack of representation in media.

The fact that we have such a rich culture/heritage/Chief Minister, and yet none of it is shown to the world outside, while the nation is obsessed with Bengalis/Punjabis, is a common line of complaint that most urban, educated Oriyas hold on to.

In the 70 years of independence, hardly a handful of Oriyas have made any impact outside the state. If featuring in the news is any indicator of such impact, we only have Nandita Das, Debashis Mohanty, and Sudarshan Pattnaik. The only other thing we are in the news for is natural calamities – floods, cyclone, earthquake.

And yet, in the last week, we showed our true colours. Sona Mohapatra sang an Oriya folk song and we filed an FIR against her for committing the grave crime of attempting to re-interpret a folk song. And surprisingly, the outrage is being led by musicians, social workers, artists – people you’d generally expect to have an open mind about such matters. And yet, we cling on to our quaint ideas of ‘culture’ with such insecurity.

Our idea of protecting our culture is making it wear the burkha – it is precious so let us cloak it from head to toe. Let no one touch it, look at it, have anything to do with it. It is ours.

But it isn’t science. It is art.

The very nature of art is to change shape, to adapt, to be embraced by people across generations and still be revered. Sholay, arguably the biggest cinematic product of our nation, has been remade numerous times. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s songs are adapted, Amir Khusrow and Bulle Shah’s songs are sung by rock bands across the world. Adaptations and interpretations are a part and parcel of art.

Shakespeare is the most widely read playwright in the world. Not because the Kingdom protected his writing and made them sacrosanct. But because Shakespeare has been adapted into every culture, every language, every context. And yet, his writings shine through because they touch something deep within us – they show us our dark sides, they throw light on our good.

*

Most of the outrage has been because Sona Mohapatra has ‘polluted’ the song.

Well, if you ask any boy who grew up in Bhubaneswar or Cuttack, you’ll realise there wasn’t much purity to the song when we grew up. For all its rich traditions, Rangabati was sung and performed in baarats – accompanied by sleazy, pedophilic songs about the breasts of 15 year old girls. It was sung on the streets at night, as drunken men shouted out the lyrics, made lewd signs, and generally became a pain in everybody’s asses. I never heard a single of these protectors of culture complain about it.

And to differ in opinion is one thing. To file an FIR? Seriously? Now the artists have to run from pillar to post, deal with court hearings, and get called up like petty criminals – just because they remade a song? Who are we? The Taliban? ISIS??

And who should be the culprit? Well, the youth wing of BJP, who else?

These are the same guys who run around shattering coffee shops and man-handling young girls on Valentine’s Day, these great upholders of the culture of Orissa.

And yet, it is not the first time that we are embarking on such foolishness. A few years ago, a Bill was passed in the Assembly to change the name from Orissa to Odisha. We all celebrated on social networks, and took pride in ‘bringing back our lost glory’. Wait, what the fuck?

How does a name change from Orissa to Odisha change anything? For a state grappling with malnutrition and illiteracy, NOBODY thought it inappropriate to spend crores of rupees on a useless bureacratic process. While we harp on about culture and Oriya pride, nobody speaks about the politics of Orissa. There has been just one Chief Minister for the last fifteen years. While there has been hardly any laudable progress (apart from the usual benefits of modernisation), he is hailed as a ‘clean’ man (*Makes mental note to wear white kurtas when meeting girls*).

Nobody speaks about that. About the fact that politics and the electoral process in Orissa is crumbling. That one man in power for long periods (no matter how good/clean he is) is a disaster for electoral democracy.

We don’t care about such things. What we want, is to cloak our songs with burkhas. Let nobody touch them, for they are ours.

*
Well, well done Orissa!

It was just a song on YouTube. People would have watched it, and forgotten about it. But now we have gone ahead and proved to the entire nation how petty and myopic we are!

And singers, writers and musicians from Orissa, beware!

Like Shah Rukh Khan says in one of his shitty romantic films, ‘FIR milenge, chalte chalte!’

******

Yo, What’s Your Beef?

In the continuing absurdity that is Indian politics, another chapter was written two weeks ago when the Maharashtra government banned the sale, consumption and possession of beef.

And this has confirmed my staunch belief that religion mixed with politics is a recipe for disaster. As with every stupid government decision, behind every decision, is a hollow, fuck-all logic.

The most common reason stated was that it is hurtful to Hindu sentiments, as the cow is a sacred animal for millions of Hindus.

Firstly, Hinduism isn’t a monolithic religion, it does not have one scripture, one set of rules, or norms. And yet, sadly, all the great upholders of religion on social networking sites seem to follow a certain, media-created idea of Hinduism. One that was woven out of mythological serials on Sunday mornings and Amar Chitra Katha comics.

For if any of these idiots actually read any scriptures, one finds a huge number of references to non-vegetarian food. That it was consumed, written about, and celebrated in a million ways. Yet, for all our pride in our ancient roots, and the wonderful diversity that Hinduism enjoys, we choose to abide by (and shove down upon others’ throats), a particular streak of carefully-chosen Brahminical Hinduism.

They told us that this is what the religion is – encapsulated thousands and thousands of years of a vibrant, unique way of life into a set of Dos and Donts – and like blind sheep, we choose to abide by it.

Then, there was the second logic thrown around.

Why can’t we ban beef, when other nations have banned pork?

Which is such an idiotic logic, that you feel like stuffing a seekh up their ass.

Just because other regressive nations dictate how their citizens should lead their personal lives, why should India do it too? Why are comparisons always made with UAE and Dubai and other regressive states? Why can’t we aspire for higher?

Which is an interesting thought. If you analyse any pro-Hindu dumbwit, you see a pattern. These guys hate Islamic states with all their heart. And yet, they will stand by and applaud as India gets reduced to exactly that – a pseudo-Islamic state that believes it has the right to decide what is right for the people.

And all the supporters of the ban are the same set of people – Hindu, upper caste/class, vegetarians, and BJP supporters. Idiots who drank from the well and now want to spit the wisdom down your throats.

But trying arguing with a BJP fanboy!

For some reason, BJP fans are the most aggressive, intolerant sort on social media networks. The Communist will meander about the discussion and then put up a link to a Rumi poem. The secularist will keep disagreeing, avoiding anything outlandish, for fear of coming across as intolerant. The Congress supporter is still hiding his face in shame. But the BJP supporter!

Arguing with a BJP supporter is like playing Tug of War with an ox. After a point, you look at yourself, wonder what the what the fuck you were thinking, and let go of the rope.

And so obsessed are BJP fanboys of their leader, that they will go on about him on social media when he does something right (I’m not a fanatic, and he IS doing some things right, won’t deny him that).

But when his government does something stupid, the BJP langots simply vanish into thin air. Question them about it, and they’ll share a picture of their dog pooping on a plate of Upma.

And vegetarian animal rights activists will add to the debate with their asinine logic of global warming and animal rights violations. Because it is fine if you slaughter buffaloes, but not cows. Go Mata, go!

What we forget is that beef is cheap, nutritious, tasty food for billions of people. Yes, it is sacred for some Hindus, but so are other animals. In some communities, even onion and garlic are considered unholy because they grow underground (yet another fuck-all logic!). Do we go around banning it?

Why do we have to stoop as low as the extremists?

In many ways, Hinduism is among the most tolerant religions in the world. Why can’t we celebrate that, revel in its diversity, and let people choose what is right for them? Why do we have to stoop to the levels of …ahem…You Know Who?

India doesn’t need to do shit like that, man. Grow up!

And the ruling party imposing rules pertaining to personal life is a dangerous trend. In many…*cough cough*…religious countries, we have seen how disastrous it is for the social fabric of the nation.

And where does this cycle of banning what we don’t approve of, end?

Roast Roast Na Raha…

Even while watching the AIB show, I was taking guesses as to which jokes would piss off what kind of people of.

There’ll be the saffron idiots who would take offence to jokes on sex and penis and vagina (because they were born by rubbing two logs of wood, adding ghee and setting fire to the yagna). Then there would be those who would whine about respecting parents and family and not exceeding lines.

And when Tanmay Bhat cracked the joke on Modi, a few million Modi fans pausing the video, signing out, and moving on to Niticentral to obtain some quality knowledge on India and the world.

Whether the show was funny, if abuse was necessary, or if the gender and colour jokes were required – can be debated endlessly. But one cannot deny that the show was much needed in a nation like ours, where we have kamandalus stuck up our asses when it comes to swearwords.

The entire debate on swearwords in India is skewed in Ashtavakra ways. Elders ask youngsters not to abuse, and yet we have all seen our fathers with their friends – a few stray ones spill out before they realise you’re in the room. We are fine with racist jokes – chinki, madrasi, sardar – and yet, a motherchod is blasphemous.

Among friends, abuse and swearwords are accepted, but only among them that belong to what we like to call ‘close friends’. Swearing is seen as cheap and classless in native languages, while tossing around the F word (if you are fluent in English) is neo-cool.

And don’t even get me started on humour.

As a nation, we might have achieved many things. A sense of humour is not among them.

We have a fucked up notion of what’s funny, and anybody who doesn’t toe the line can go fuck himself fly a kite. Look at our films, for example.

The joke is always on fat, gay, goofish people. Go through the list of Indian cinema’s greatest comic actors, and they are all oddball characters who are either fat, or short, or dark – the kind who clowns around, gets bashed up by the hero, gets drunk and sings a song – that’s our idea of funny. Even in mythology, there are very few instances of people making fun of the other, and they end with gruesome consequences – Draupadi mocks Duryodhana and sparks a war; Shishupala mocks Krishna and is shown the finger – from which a shiny Sudarshan chakra appears.

A joke is supposed to be cracked on someone stupid, or evil. But good people should never be mocked. It is alright to laugh at Rahul Gandhi, but not at Narendra Modi. Somewhere deep within our psyches, we have come to relate a joke not as a harmless taunt, but as a grave, personal insult.

A GUIDE TO WHAT YOU CAN JOKE ABOUT IN INDIA

CAN JOKE ABOUT	CAN’T JOKE ABOUT
Rahul Gandhi	Narendra Modi
Sreesanth	Sachin Tendulkar
Congress/AAP supporters	BJP supporters
Ravana	Rama
Sardars	Marathis
Arvind Kejriwal	Narendra Modi
Pakistan	India
Jesus	Allah You Know Who

As the show came to an end, I knew these guys were in trouble.

And I wasn’t wrong. If there is one thing we have developed as a nation – it is our predictability.

MNS, that rogue party that beats up people from other states, threatened to boycott Arjun Kapoor and Ranveer Singh’s films. An ex-Censor Board chairman published a comment that deserves a Pulitzer Award for the greatest Tweet written by a penis. There was general hue and cry about aping Western culture.

And then people went back to watching Comedy Nights with Kapil, that artful show which has the most sensitive, tasteful jokes this side of Syria.

But what can I expect when we are ruled by a party that believes in controlling culture and morals along with CRR ratios and currency rates?

Which is when I realised the masterstroke!

We, the unfunny, smug nation that we are, deserve this.

We will whine and complain and crib, while All India Bakchod will rake in the money.

Their show will be downloaded on Torrentz, performances will sell out to packed audiences. Every time a politician cries foul about declining morals, a teenager will light up a joint and laugh her lungs out.

The joke, truly, is on us.

Why are we apologetic about Islamic terror?

Hundreds of children shot dead as they were reading their books. A woman beheaded in Mecca in full public view. Thousands of people slaughtered by Boko Haram.

All these have happened in the last ten days, and the only common thread among them was that the perpetrators screamed ‘Allah O Akbar’ when they killed innocents.

The response of the Indian intelligentsia circuit was predictable as always. On how we are falling into the trap laid out by the terrorists. That they want us to feel angry and lost, and moments like this require us to delve into our deep, humane side. While the terrorist delves into his pocket and pulls out a Kalashnikov.

Why is the whole gamut of rational-atheist-intelligentsia silent about Islam? Why is there always a gigantic blanket of apology over the issue? Why are we embarrassed to talk about Islam and its problems?

The other surprising fact is that the same bunch of people raise a hue and cry when a book is banned. Remember Wendy Doniger’s book? How many people actually read it? How many people did it affect? Were lives lost? Did blood flow?

I understand the common argument – that oppression is not necessarily physical. That suppressing free speech could be as heinous as any other crime. I get all of that. But what about when people are getting slaughtered in reality? What about when gunmen (who are supposedly fighting the cause of Islam, but do not possess the balls to show their face to the world) enter a building and shoot journalists? What about the freedom of speech then?

Most apologist arguments about Islam tread four main lines, each argument a hollow, half-baked dump of an idea. Let’s see what they are:

1. Not every Muslim is a terrorist: I get pissed off when I read this. Who said that every Muslim is a terrorist? Did anybody say that? Could you show me one book, newspaper, film, or paper that calls every Muslim a terrorist? Nobody does that, not even the Hindutva bigots that you so hate. Relax!
2. One cannot expect to offend a religion while calling oneself ‘liberal’: Really? How many children died due to the cartoon of Prophet Muhammad? While we constantly call on our brethren to reform themselves to new ideas and times, why should Islam be allowed to continue abiding by laws that were written thousands of years ago?
3. It is a young religion, and has gone through trials and tribulations inflicted on it by the Western world: Another classic liberal-bullshit liner. Yes, what happened in Iraq and Afghanistan was wrong. But the world doesn’t exist in black and white. There are gigantic shades of grey. What about Boko Haram, then? Did the US bomb people there too? How long are we going to keep blaming the US for all of Islam’s problems?
4. Violence is always political, Islam is being used by bigots to secure their own motives: Yes, but isn’t it worth discussing what makes Islam so vulnerable to such hijackings? Why don’t other religions (some of which are younger, and are practiced in regions that have witnessed worse horrors) come in the news for killing innocents?
5. (And this is my favourite) Islam is actually a religion of peace: Yeah? Then how come most Muslims in the world have died in the hands of fundamentalist Muslims themselves? How can you be a religion of peace? The concept of religion in itself doesn’t allow for peace, more so one that considers non-believers as infidels. If it really is a religion of peace, why don’t the followers of this very peaceful religion raise up and condemn it?

Since the last two weeks, opening up the news has become a chore. I am a student of Journalism and understand that news images are not biased and fair. And yet, how long are we going to fall back upon these claims? How long are we going to blame everybody else, because we do not have the courage to look the problem in the eye?

And every time there is some incident, the upholders of wisdom in the country (Scroll, Kaafila, Caravan) begin their bullshit-doling. Every statement begins with ‘Tuesday’s attack was horrific, however (random bullshit argument follows).

Or, ‘While one’s heart is pained by the loss on Sunday, one must remember that (some other chutiya explanation).

It is almost to say that Yes, we understand that people are dying, but listen up to our lofty idea now.

Since I live on a university campus, my wall is inundated by such sort. Those who see red when a book is banned, and yet talk you down if you say anything against Islam. Anything at all. Which is surprising because everytime I crack a joke on any other religion (as I firmly believe that there is only one true God – Jackie Shroff), everything is fine.

This has often baffled me. How can our intelligentsia, our best-learned, our most competent, be so myopic? Why don’t the same people who flood your news feed with articles not raise a single murmur of protest as children are shot in the head, as masked men scream ‘Allah o Akbar’, and pump bullets into innocent heads?

And that is when it struck me.

Because they’re all rich. They are artists, and poets, and journalists, and influential people whose opinions are sought after. They are rich – their children will never attend schools that do not have machine gun toting security guards. They will never use public transport, to buy vegetables from the local market.

An act of terrorism is another incident to them, to sit on their high pedestal and tell us lesser mortals about how we need to base our understanding of the world. About how we must not crib and complain about Islamic terror because it is not the right thing to do.

Well, dear intellectuals. You can go fuck yourselves.

Islam, like every other religion, has problems.

I have known Muslim friends all my life, and it would have been incomplete without them. And yet, I am not blind to the fact that they read the same Quran that the dudes at ISIS do. They worship the same God.

Whether their ideologies are the same or not, it is Allah’s name that is uttered when a head is slit.

I don’t know if Allah exists. But if he does, I imagine he’s sitting up there, looking down at us. His eyes permanently welled up with tears, his heart broken.

Kiss of Love and Fist of Fury

The kissing event in Kerala was much needed.

And as always, there were morons who called it against ‘Indian culture’.

Nothing pisses me off as much as listening to the words ‘Indian culture’, freely thrown around by these idiots who wave flags and shout slogans. Most of these guys haven’t read much, their idea of Indian culture coming from an India of Ramayan and Mahabharat. What they are fighting for, is not really Indian culture, but assumed ideas of chastity for women.

And it is tragic that the government in power at the Centre, the so called wave of change that supposedly swept the nation a few months ago, has nothing to say about it. In fact, the BJP’s student and youth wings – the ABVP and BJYM – are frontrunners in this trade.

The criticism against anything that is new – be it in the realm of art, fashion, cinema or culture – is labelled against Indian values. What really are Indian values? We live in a country where cultures, languages, customs change every few hundred kilometres. What values are they really protecting?

And I can bet my monthly scholarship on the fact that none of these guys have actually read anything pertaining to Indian culture, history, or philosophy. For if they did, they’d know that while Indian society had its problems, we certainly weren’t prude about clothing and actions. Till the British came in and enforced their ideas of civility and decency on us. Seventy years after the British left, these dickheads are still hanging on to colonial ideas of civility and decency, shamelessly passing them off as Indian values. If only I had a dollar for every time I had a strong urge to smack such idiots across their dumb faces!

And then, there’s also the fact that most of the people who give out such opinions are from an earlier generation. Politicians, religious heads, these are all people in the 60s (and above). If we truly are a nation with largest youth population in the world, as our Prime Minister announces to every country he visits, with considerable pride, why are our lives still determined by rules drawn by geriatric idiots?

How on earth are we going to be a global superpower if we cannot even wear, watch, and do what we think is right? It’s not like there are people having threesomes on railway platforms. Why then, is there such fear?

In most parts of the country, one cannot hold one’s partner’s hand, or put their arms around their shoulder. If an elderly person sees you, or a cop (God forbid!), they will give you a dressing down on how shameless you are. I was once walking with a girl, when a woman called her ‘characterless’ for holding my hand. Me being the guy, was called ‘Useless’ (or something generic like that), but the girl was addressed in terms that stopped short of a prostitute. Why? For holding hands while walking.

And this fear, this absolute unwillingness to accept that people and traditions constantly change, is enforced by these two groups – ABVP and Bajrang Dal. ABVP is the student wing of BJP, and Bajrang Dal is a special group for people with an IQ of 37 and below.

And this is where my above argument of the youth deciding for themselves, falls flat. These people are all youth (some distinctly less youthful than others), ranging in the age of 20 – 35. Why do they parrot the words of some foolish old minister? Why do they beat up people, smash property, and blacken faces of couples on TV?

Because none of these guys have girlfriends. Think about it.

Think of all the people you know, who support Hindu groups, or are members of ABVP and Bajrang Dal – they are all single males. What they are really against is the fact that other guys can do it, and they can’t.

For, think about it, if you have a girlfriend, would she let you beat up other couples? If you were in a relationship, would you spend Valentine’s Day breaking chairs and tables, screaming ‘Jai Sri Ram’? No way in paataal loka!

In a way, I feel their pain. Imagine watching your friends hang out with beautiful girls, walking hand in hand to movies, clubs, and libraries. While you have wait for your family members to fall asleep, then switch on Zee Cinema, mute the volume, and jack off. Every single night. It can be very frustrating!

And that is why these morons line up, all of them single, their right hands distinctly thicker than their left, ready to fight for Indian culture.

If you are a Bajrang Dal supporter, or know an idiot who goes around yelling, give him this bit of advice.

Get into a relationship. It might seem Herculean, but remember that even Govinda managed to woo Rani Mukherjee at some point. Do not lose hope. Ask a girl out politely, and get into a relationship.

It’s beautiful. Straight out of my mind, here are a few advantages I could state:

a. You will have something to do on weekends.

b. You get to make out, which is a gazillion times better than masturbating in your bed.

c. You will learn to actually understand women. You will learn that they are not all the same. How can you protect a woman’s modesty if you have never known one closely?

4. Long shot here, but you IQ might just increase.

Just a little bit.

San-scarred for life

The room is dimly lit. And eerily quiet.

The men and women seated around the table look at each other nervously. Finally, one of them summons up the courage to speak –

“I understand that, sir. But one of us has to make a nonsensical statement on the subject, sir.”

The man listens on, his eyes fixed on the speaker like a leopard’s. ‘Let the doctor do it.’

‘But, sir…’ the man injects, ‘he is a doctor. He ran the country’s…’

‘I know. But one of us has to make the statement. Let it be him. This meeting is dismissed.’

 

*

 

And just like that, another minister goes on to make an idiotic statement about the nation and Indian culture. This time, it was about sex education.

The entire episode has baffled me. That a reputed doctor would say that the nation needs to promote Indian values, and not condoms, to check AIDS. Almost takes one back to the surreal time when Sushma Swaraj ordered Doordarshan newsreaders not to wear translucent blouses while reading out news. Doordarshan news – even though market surveys have revealed that the primary target audience for the channel are lizards and moths.

To get a better picture of the issue, I looked up some Sex Education books that are used by the government, to see if children of today are being encouraged to take part in inter-school orgies and sleep with cattle.

This is what I found. The books talk of sensitization, give brief descriptions of pregnancy, STDs, and the human anatomy. What is so offensive about this, Dr. Harshavardhan?

*

Sex education is crucial in our country. A country where we are not culturally in the habit of speaking about it with our parents. Which means the only other source of knowledge on the subject is pornography, a senior at school, or the sleazy man selling Letters to Penthouse at the railways station. I can vouch for this.

Long long before the evil world of websites came into our perverse lives, there was imagination. And along with imagination, there were films.

Back then, conjugation was enacted by a 5 minute song in Ramoji Film City, followed by a close-up shot of a baby poster in the room. Then, there were the raunchy ones where Raveena Tandon would gyrate in a yellow saree, giving birth to a million sinful thoughts.

Or there would be the pseudo-conjugation scenes were actors would rub noses, breathe into each other’s cheeks, and if you were Balakrishna – do Suryanamaskar on the heroine’s navel.

Which created a disturbingly confusing image in my mind.

What really happens there? I mean, I understand there’s some touching and rubbing involved, but what do I do if there’s no song playing in the background? And what if it doesn’t rain?

This magical phase of endless possibilities was brutally shattered one night in Sixth Standard. It happened one night as we lay awake in bed, listening to a senior tell us of the amazing things he had learnt.

“The man puts his No.1 Place in the woman’s No.1 Place,” he said.

 

Long after he had gone back to his bed, we discussed and critiqued the outlandish theory that had been suggested to us a few hours ago.

‘Do you think it is possible?’

‘No, I think he’s gassing.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. Children happen because men tie Mangalsutra around the woman’s neck.’

I thought of it for a while. It made perfect sense. But…‘What about Muslims?’

‘They have that thing no? Tabeez? You have not seen Azharuddin, aa?’

‘And what about Christians?’

‘They have Cross, na?’

‘Oh yeah…but how do you know all this?’

‘I asked my mother, she told me.’

 

That was how I learnt about the birds and the bees for the first time. Later on, when pornography came into my life, I thought it was natural to smack the girl’s ass while having sex. Till I got a good dressing down and realised none of that was true. It was abnormal.

I spent a few years worrying about getting action, and then getting more action, unsatisfied till I was putting up Vivid Entertainment style performances. It was a confused, reckless phase brimming with anxiety, doubts, and fears.

All because nobody spoke to me. Nobody explained the basics to me. For more proof, check out the questions in the sex column in a newspaper in India.

 

Courtesy: http://imgur.com/gallery/aUaTsAH

 

*

For a community like ours, sex education is important. Especially when put in the context of the increasing crimes against women. In a country where teenage boys strip open a girl’s clothes, rape her, and slam a rod into her vagina. Do we really have any culture to speak of?

Look into the newspaper, and you will find a report a day, of youth molesting, abusing, and raping women. Of recording the act and putting it up on the internet. What are we trying to protect again?

Culture is not a standard protocol followed in ancient texts. How we do things is our culture. We eat with our hands, that’s our culture. We fold our hands when greeting elders, that’s our culture. We rape women, tear their clothes off, dump them from buses, that’s our culture.

With the onset of internet, smartphones, and data connectivity, the youth of the country run a risk of acquiring knowledge for abnormal ways like the internet. Permanently warping ideas of sex and sexuality in their minds.

Sex education, if anything, creates a sensitivity among students. Towards the other gender, towards the act of having sex. It normalizes the act, ridding a thousand minds of thousand worries. How on earth is it against Indian culture?

And this is from a reputed doctor, the Health minister of the country?

May be true Indian culture is politicians making stupid statements. May be that’s really our culture.

 

*

And as icing to the cake, Dr. Harshvardhan suggests that we use Indian values to counter AIDS. Now there are a few ways this could be done.

1. When the body notices the HIV virus approaching the body, the White Blood Cells get together to organize a havan. With the havan, the body acquires a high temperature, and HIV goes back to its hive.
2. When the Ova notice Spermjis swimming towards them eagerly, they can fold their hands, call the sperm ‘bhaiyya’, and request them not to enter. Pregnancies could be averted.
3. One chants Ram, Ram, Ram continuously. On a loop, it sounds like Mara, Mara, Mara. This magical chant kills all the rakshasha HIV viruses in the body.
4. This is so absurd, I can’t even think of a fourth point.

 

The sad part is, everytime there is a need to push a certain agenda, Indian culture is brought up. It is an impenetrable blanket that is supposed to be accepted without protest or objection. You know who else does that, dear BJP? The Taliban. Yes, that organization that you love to hate.

They issue orders, ask people to follow Neanderthal rules, enforcing it in the name of culture and values. This is just a civilized, English speaking version of them, if things go on like this.

*

 

Which is my main problem with the BJP.

Whilst it talks of development and progress, its ideals are stuck in the 19^th century.

Development is not restricted to swanky roads, billions in revenue, and high-rise buildings. Even Dubai has those.

Development is also a maturity in handling issues. Development is a society that learns to peacefully adapt to new challenges, shrugging off traditional ideas and dogmas. Development is a free, mature society that is willing to confront its issues, to speak of them without sweeping them under the carpet.

Development is ensuring an entire generation of youth do not grow up believing that masturbation makes palms hairy. And that girls like it when you pull their hair, spread their legs, and spank their ass.

What is the kind of development you are looking for?

The Trains Strain

At the risk of sounding like Mahesh Bhatt, I must acknowledge that trains and railways have been an integral part of my life.

As Indians, we take some sort of pride in quoting off facts and figures related to the Railways. Largest network in the world, the largest employer among government agencies, has been running since 150 years, all of that.

And yet deep within, we all know the truth.

Indian Railways is the largest network of shitpiles running across the length and breadth of the country. Like most government amenities in the country, those of us who can afford to bypass the realities of our country choose to travel by air, or in AC compartments.

When the government announced the hike in train fares last week, the responses weren’t exactly what you’d call surprising.

The opposition cried foul and lambasted the anti-poor move, the ruling party said it was necessary to upgrade the railways, and Times of India quickly drafted an article called ‘5 Reasons why Katrina Kaif’s dog might be fucking Abhay Deol’s cat’.

But what’s done is done. The fares have been hiked and after a little grumbling, we will all move on to other things. What is surprising however, is that nobody is asking what really is the plan from here on. 14% is not a lowly figure by any means, and since the Railways are not auto-rickshaws where we can bargain and heckle, we have no option but to pay the amount.

But what really is the plan? What does the government plan to do with the additional choda pratishat that it is charging us?

One cannot discuss the Railways without feeling like Aparichit – The Stranger. Without feeling an intense rage to bash a few heads, and then dance with Sada in a blond wig.

I am a reasonably practical person. I am not asking for IRCTC to be running with clockwork precision. Surely I know the difference between being an informed citizen and a writer of fantasy. But have you wondered what could be done with the money?

Here are a few things to begin with.

1. Cleanliness: Indian trains are grime-boxes on wheels. Go to any compartment (except 1^st AC, of course – politicians travel in those), and you can see it for yourself. The windows have layers of brown-black hash all along the borders. The floors have a strange stink that people tend to romanticize as ‘the unmistakable smell of trains’.

People eat groundnuts and throw the shells on the floor, till that handicapped boy can sweep it off while he begs for alms. Hawkers, joyriders, and lovers of women and aesthetics pop in at any given station, sprawl themselves across seats and litter it like they are the descendents of Shah Jahan.

For how long?

If we as a nation are particular about cleanliness, we need to prove it. Modi is supposed to be finicky about cleanliness and hygiene. I wish he took a 2^nd class journey from Vishakapatnam to Calcutta. It’d be amusing to see how clean his kurta would be at the end of the journey.

Littering trains is as good as pissing on roads and scribbling ‘I love Champa’ across historical monuments. How about running surprise checks and fining people who litter trains? It won’t even cost the Railways additional money. With the amount of littering we Indians indulge in, the Railways coffers would be overflowing with funds.

 

2. Food.

Remember the days when food on the Railways was piping hot and lip-smacking delicious?

Yeah? You must have grown up in Australia, then. Because as far as I can remember, food on the train always sucked like an intergalactic vacuum cleaner. Every new Railways minister talks of measures to assure meals at affordable prices. But if you look at the Rail Aahar food, with their Shit-idlis and Crap-sambar menus, you will run straight back into your compartment and buy Tiger biscuits.

Chicken biriyani smells of egg and tastes of rubber. Vadas have oil on them, that has already been tasted by about 17 trainflies before it reached your berth. Daal was prepared by someone reading Oliver Twist, and rotis are prepared by expert craftsmen in Lacoste.

If all the food prepared on trains is outsourced to catering agencies, why should the 24 million people who take trains everyday pay the price for it?And even in the food department, there is a clear divide between the rich and the poor. The food in AC compartments at least smells like food. In Sleeper class, you have to close your eyes, think of your mother’s homecooked food, gulp down as quickly as you can, and then rush to the toilets.

With my extra 14%, will I be guaranteed better food?

 

3. Security

We are no strangers to horrific stories that occur on trains. Women are raped, ticketless travelers are often pushed out of running trains, women are heckled at, and TTEs quietly add to their daughters’ marriage fund.

There are also stories where army men have raped women on trains, where dacoits have entered compartments at night to rob all the people in it. All this in spite of a well entrenched Railway Police Force that is supposed to look into the worries of the people.

And yet, all I have seen the RPF personnel on train do, is to take ‘rounds’ a few times in the night, to haul up ticketless travelers and smokers. If 72 people in a coach are paying 14% extra on their train fares, is it far-fetched to expect one security personnel for every two compartments? Can the government guarantee that much?

 

4. Advertising on Trains

This move has been discussed quite a few times, and every single time, a Left politician rises from his grave, dusts off his clothes, coughs ‘anti-poor’, and goes back to the grave.

Our trains run across a mind-boggling network of 115000 kilometres. If the government was indeed serious about greater revenues, how about doing the sane thing of leasing out spaces on the train for companies to advertise?

It has been experimented with in phases, but most trains in our country still have ‘I love Champa want sex call me I love you Pooja penis vagina I like sex do you?’ scribbled all across them. Train fares are a common occurrence in our times, with every 5 year term witnessing one or two hikes in price. Why not tap into a resource instead of hiking prices whenever conscious pricks through your expensive safari suits?

As it is, our politicians do whatever the fuck they want with the Railways – announce trains, coach-building factories in their native constituencies, and name trains after their favourite sons of the soil. Who can forget those horrific Duronto Express trains that were introduced during Mamta Banerjee’s times?

 

5. Toilets.

Frankly, I could live with any of the above not being implemented, if only this one issue was sorted out.

After 150 years, our trains still have holes for toilets. So if you summoned up the courage to go to the toilet, and are trained enough in anulom-vilom to control your breath for the entire duration, you get to shit all over the country.

In fact, if you take the Himsagar Express, you could shit all across the length of the country – from the Himalayas, to the Ganga plains, to the ghats. You can crap over waterfalls and plains and plateaus, and hills and rivers. The entire country is your dumping ground.

We want to ban manual scavenging, but don’t mind shitting on the tracks. PC: Tehelka.

Not if you’re rich, though. If you’re rich, you get to travel in 1^st AC. In there, if you look down from your iPhone, you’d notice that your toilet has a system where your shit goes into a tank which is flushed out later at a station. Which makes sense, because you’re rich. Your shit shouldn’t fall on the floor like other commoners, to be eaten by pigs and stray dogs.

But like I said, if you aren’t rich, you can shit all over the country. Hate Maharastrians? Take a train, order chicken biriyani from the pantry car, and dump all over the state. Dislike Tamilians? Ask for idli-sambar, and watch down the hole with amazement as your insides melt into gooey yellow water and line up the entire state.

Ah! The little joys that the Railways bring to our life!

Frankly, it is quite astounding that after 150 years in operation, nobody even thought about it. Not one official in the Railways walked up to a minister and said, ‘Sir, do we need to do something about all the shit that falls out of trains?’

Which is all the more shocking because we are a country with severe sanitation and hygiene problems. And it is not like the trains run through our malls, cities, and expressways. Most trains run on outskirts of cities, where we can dump our shit in front of farms and slums, because who gives a fuck anyway?

 

If we have truly entered the era of responsible governance, surely there must be a plan to modernize the Railways? A quick 10 point agenda that the Railways ministry might want to share on their social networking pages (in Hindi if need be)?

If all the millions of people who are traveling on trains are going to pay 14% extra everyday, can they at least expect clean toilets?

Does anybody, for want of a worse pun, give a shit?

 

*

Dr. Ashok Chopra Road and Honey Singh Foreign Liquor Off Shop

As I woke up this morning, The Times of India, as its wont, decided to sprinkle my life with the choicest of news.

Apparently, a road has been named in Mumbai after Dr. Ashok Chopra.

Ashok Chopra who, you ask? Is he related to Akash Chopra, you ask?

Why you buffon, you! You clearly haven’t been following the news.

Remember the time when Bollywood went to attend the funeral of Priyanka Chopra’s father and news organizations decided that it was worthy of our attention?

Yes, it is the same Dr. Ashok Chopra. He was a doctor in the Indian Army and passed away after an illustrious career in defence, which was further sweetened by the surge in Priyanka Chopra’s career.

 

Now, I know a lot of readers of this blog are cynics.

People who read a bit of news and scoff at it and move on to debonairblog.com.

But hold your horses, dear friends. Do not get so judgmental as yet. One must not commit the grave error of dismissing Dr. Ashok Chopra’s contributions to the nation.

Apart from serving in the army for many many years, Dr. Ashok Chopra has also fathered Priyanka Chopra. Now, that is a credible achievement.

Priyanka Chopra is not your regular pelvic-thrusting, sword-in-navel-poking heroine. She has done her bit to contribute to the legacy of our nation, and this is no mean task. It is a median task.

Firstly, who can forget Ms. Chopra’s role in Hero: Love Story of Spy? That heart-wrenching tale of love and treachery where Chopra works against her own nation so that the love of her life, Mr. Sunny Duel can kill bad guys in Canada by slamming a nuclear missile into their chests? Or that neo-wave piece of cinematic brilliance – Asambhav? Where Chopra is a singer who helps Arjun Rampal bamboozle the terrorists by proving them wrong and having two expressions? Or Kissmat, where Bobby Deol does not kiss her?

Or her work in music, for instance. Chopra, in spite of not having sung a single song in Hindi films (which have 5-6 full songs, lip-synced by the heroines themselves), has cut singles in the west. Reports suggest a new version of the hit single is in the pipeline. With lyrics that go – ‘My dad has a road named after him…in my city’.

 

*

Again, what am I doing – shiva shiva?

How can I speak ill about a man who has given his entire life to serve the Indian army? How can I question the logic of naming roads and public amenities (that belong to the public) after fathers of film personalities? After all, we are the same country that has a Sanjay Gandhi Memorial Hospital, a Sanjay Gandhi Animal Care Centre, and a Sanjay Gandhi National Park.

But since we are naming public resources after great, towering personalities (whom nobody had heard of), one begs to ask the question – why stop at roads?

Don’t we have other amenities that can be named after people? Why go through the dull routine of naming roads and lanes as Lane 2, Road no.3, and Post Box No. 143? Why not spice up our country by naming everything after somebody or the other?

Imagine the sheer thrill of Gautam Buddha Highway (you have to walk on the divider – Middle Path and all). Or the sheer ingenuity of rechristening a crossroad as Jarasandha Split?

And to take this bold measure forward (since we hardly have any other issues for our political parties and leaders to focus upon), I present my suggestions for other public amenities that could be named after specific personalities.

 

1. Sunny Deol Water Supply Project:

Sunny Deol, for those who continue to live in denial, is the reason the earth spins in harmony around the sun. Scientists have found that the earth tilts to a slight 23 degree angle, due to the massive weight of his biceps.

Sunny Deol, as is commonly known, is the only man who had the balls watermelons to take a train to Pakistan, challenge a politician, marry his daughter, have a son, defeat the Pakistani army, and return in the same train. And it wasn’t even an action film: Gadar – Ek PREM Katha.

In one swift 2.5 kilo move, Sunny uprooted a tubewell in Pakistan. Experts suggest the scene could be a hidden message to Pakistan about the way Indian controls the flow of rivers to Pakistan. Others say he did it because he didn’t like the colour of the paint.

Be as it may, Sunny Deol’s contribution to inciting patriotism (by stirring anti-Pakistan feelings – same thing, no?) is immense. To honour his contribution, water supply boards should be rechristened Sunny Deol Water Supply Project.

I am sure this can be done. Firstly, Sunny Deol is involved in films. Secondly, Dharmendra was an MP. Thirdly, Hema Malini has been promoting good, clean water since the time I was a wild thought in my father’s head.

Who else, but Sunny Paaji to give our water supply projects a shot in the 2.5 kilo arm?

 

2. Azam Khan’s Veterinary Hospital

I have said this once, and I shall say this again. Buffaloes are awesome.

Before Azam Khan, buffaloes were on the sidelines of the nation’s consciousness. A buffalo has always lived under the shadow of its motherly cousin, the cow. While the scriptures clearly mention that there are 33,000 crores of gods and goddesses in the cow’s body, experts have found just one god in the body of a buffalo – Bob Marley.
And I find it amusing how the entire nation is always encouraging cows all the time (‘Go, Mata. Go, Mata!). Buffaloes, on the other hand, receive no acknowledgement in spite of their awesomeness.

But all that changed with Azam Khan. When three of his buffaloes were stolen in February this year, the policemen of UP (who are otherwise honest, hardworking men) were sent on a hunt to locate them. This was a few weeks after the Muzzafarnagar riots where people slaughtered each other to death. Three policemen were suspended for dereliction of duty, and a hunt for the buffaloes was launched.

Azam Khan brought in a relevance to buffaloes. These humble, friendly creatures who grazed about in the periphery of our world, were dragged by their horns into the mainstream. And as a tribute to that great feat, veterinary hospitals in the country should be named after Azam Khan.

3. Shashi Kapoor Maternity Care Centres

Even though our scriptures have been telling us to revere our mothers and tag them on Mothers’ Day, a lot of us do not heed such advice. But all that changed with Shashi Kapoor’s golden line in the film Deewar.

In the times when we are not calling Pakistanis ‘Motherchod’, and our enemies ‘Maa ki chut’, we all love our mothers.

Just look at the number of mother references our movies have. ‘Maa ka doodh piya hai toh saamne aa’, ‘Maa Rdala’, and ‘Aye, Maa ka raina’.

Also, as a lot of Engineering students will testify, ‘Mere paas behen hai’  just doesn’t have the same ring to it. The credit for putting the maa back in mamtaa goes to Shashi Kapoor. Also, for being a reasonably good looking man who could act, he got completely overshadowed by Amitabh Bachchan, And if Amitabh Bachchan (who already had gaadi, ghar, bungalow, and paisa) can be awarded six Honorary Doctorates, surely we can name our maternity clinics after the man who brought mothers back into the limelight?

 

4. Honey Singh Foreign Liquor Off Shop

In times of recession and depression, Honey Singh was a sliver of hope for the Indian liquor industry. The famous singer, who raps about rapes, has been promoting alcohol like it is his own business.

In spite of the criticism, he has been helpful in making alcoholics feel a part of the society (Chaar bottle vodka, kaam mere roz ka). He has also been promoting independence among the youth (Aunty police bulayegi, aunty police bulayegi, aunty police bulayegi. Phir bhi party yunhi chalegi).

Honey Singh has also been helping kids develop a deep love for poetry (Aaj din hai Sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny sunny. Aur blue hai paani paani paani paani paani paani paani paani – even if it might get a frown from their Physics teacher).

For his contribution to the alcohol industry, Honey Singh needs to be given the honour of naming alcohol shops after him. And just for that added Yo Yo factor, they should be made to rhyme. The boards should read:

Honey Singh Foreign Liquor Off Shop.

Thoda daaru, thoda chakna, thoda hip-hop.

Milta hai yahaan mutton chop.

Honey Singh Foreign Liquor Off Shop.

***

Hey Indians, how about strapping some balls on?

In the last three overs of the Indian innings in the final, I knew a storm was brewing.

We logged on to Facebook to check out Yuvraj Singh’s Facebook page, and we found people trolling him. Some of the posts were really funny. We scrolled down some more, and then there were few that weren’t very funny, some that were poor attempts, and finally, some that really lacked in taste.

Which is why I wasn’t surprised the next day when I read the news of Yuvraj Singh’s house getting stoned. People wished that he had died of cancer, than to come back and play in the final.

*

Whenever such an incident comes up, there are two common explanations.

The first explanation for it is that we are an emotional people. That we love cricket as a sport, and it is the frustration of a people whose only bright spot in life and popular culture is films and cricket.

Which is an absurd explanation. If we were really passionate about the sport, we would know that a team sport is dependent on the entire team. If they scratched a little more, they’d also know that a team sport is dependent on a variety of external things – luck, strategy, playing conditions. And if they really had an IQ of 80+, they’d know that it is really difficult to hit yorkers outside the off stump.

The second is that it comes with being a sporting icon. When people love you, you enjoy the success, the grandeur, the fame and the wealth. If you go through the Ups, you also have to grin and bear the Downs.

Ahem, no?

Because we are not fucking Taliban??

Because we are a supposed civilised democracy in 2014?

Come to think of it, what really did he do? Did he fix a match? Did he pursue and hack someone to death? He had a bad day at work. In the way that you and I do. Now when your boss asks you to come meet him, do you stone his house and blacken his face?

Na. He has power over you.

‘Kya gaandu log ho yaar, tum log?’

*

That is the second thing about the mob frenzy.

Have you ever seen anybody stone the house of politicians? What about N.Srinivasan – the guy who has been accused of running a betting racket? Or A.Raja? Or Suresh Kalmadi – that other Indian who was really passionate about sport?

Or the police officers who roam the streets like modern day Razakars? Or the builder who built that shitty road outside your house? Na. No, sir.

You know why? Because they are powerful. Because if you try to get near their house, their bodyguards will punch you till your small intestine becomes your large intestine and your liver becomes a dier.

*

And so we always choose the easy preys. Actors, authors, cricketers, social workers, and women in pubs. Those not powerful enough to defend themselves.

If somebody was watching from Uranus, they’d shake their heads and laugh. Ek toh all the 100 crores of us follow only one goddamn sport. A sport that only eight other countries play. Bangladesh toh simply does timepass.

It’s sad in a pathetic way.

Yada Yadahi Trollasya…

I’ll be honest with you, I hadn’t planned to write a blog on the Rahul Gandhi interview.

But like a wise one man once said, ‘Do not be afraid to take to battle, o warrior! There come moments in life, when you need to rise to the occasion and be an opportunistic bastard.’

I knelt down on one knee, folded my hands, and bent my head.

 

*

 

So it has happened.

A 500 crore marketing blitzkrieg, in the final lap of the race, to jazz up the image of the prodigal son. And what a salmagundi of goof-ups it has been!

Firstly, let’s spare a minute of silence for the Creative team. The guys who came up with the poster and the tagline for Rahul Gandhi’s campaign. In one single masterstroke, they lifted the line from the Archenemy’s own campaign.

‘Very daring,’ Inspector Jai Dixit would say. But those of us with a higher IQ will agree it wasn’t the smartest thing to do. One would also assume that the entire Creative team was fired after the goof-up.

 

*

 

Overall, I think there was a fundamental flaw in placing the interview with Arnab Goswami. Why would you choose Arnab Goswami? It’s like N. Srinivasan getting his son to debut for the Indian Cricket Team. In Sydney. Facing Mitchell Johnson.

Even though Arnab did not stand up, pull his hair out, and start throwing chairs, he is still Arnab Goswami. One can take the Goswami out of the Arnab, but one can’t take the Arnab out of the Goswami.

After that totally meaningless statement, let me add that the other thing about Rahul Gandhi, and there is no subtle way to put it, is that he is seen more or less as an embarrassment.

Which is where Modi scores over him. In a major way. People are proud of being Modi fans. They will tattoo his name in unmentionable places and get their hair cut, and distribute chai on a Monday morning, and share links on Facebook.

But in most urban spaces, you wouldn’t find a youngster wearing a ‘I ❤ Rahul’ T-shirt. For all the money being pumped into the campaign, an interview with Arnab isn’t enough to make RaGa ‘cool’. It’s almost embarrassing to say that one is a Rahul Gandhi fan.

 

*

 

Enough has been said about the contents of the interview. About Rahul repeating the same points over and over again, irrespective of the question being asked to him. I shall not waste any of your time on harping on the same point over and over again.

What baffles me however, is what really was done to jazz up his image? While Rahul is a joke in urban and internet spaces, the real deciders of the elections – the rural areas – still look at him as a scion of the Gandhi family. Was anything done to jazz up his image in rural areas? May be they have a picture of him pumping a tubewell in a green, grassy field. Or may be a picture of him seated on the floor, assembling a computer – part by part.

‘Cos you know, ‘the system needs to be opened up.’

One will never understand the ways of the Congress. One could also attribute it karma delivering a gigantic bitch slap on the party’s face. All the crores and crores of corruption, coming back to bite them, in the form of a PR agency that siphoned away 500 crores in return for crap publicity work.

One will never know.

*

As a final message to the Congress, I have this suggestion.

Do not waste your money on PR agencies. Whoever did your PR for you did a terrible job. Even a Personal Interview trainer in IIPM will tell you that you mustn’t slouch in an interview. Or look down, sideways, and upwards when you are being spoken to. Or that you mustn’t call Ashok Chavan as Ashok Kumar. Thank God he didn’t call Mamta Banerjee as Mamta Kulkarni, or she would have asked Bengalis not to inhale Oxygen, in protest.

What you need to do, dear Congress Party, is get in touch with me.

I promise to charge a grand total of 1 crore.

No big deal. Three weeks – 1 crore. I have an intensive plan to brush him up, keep him war-ready for the coming elections. A rough draft of the plan is placed herewith below, for your kind perusal.

1. Morning (After Breakfast) – Brief history of India, aside from the immense contributions of the Gandhi family.

2. Afternoon (Post Lunch) – GK Refresher, quick quiz on facts and figures. (Since Sir might feel sleepy after lunch, this session will be light and peppy. Like Mandira Bedi’s commentary).

3. Evening (Post Tea) – Public Speaking, Personal Interview, Body Language

4. Night (Post Dinner) – How to Piss Off Arnab Goswami

 

That is all that is needed, dear Congress party. Sign me up for it, and save yourself a few crores, and a truckload of embarassment.

It will change my life.

Or Rahul Gandhi’s.

AAP Mujhe Achhe Lagne Lage

In the average Indian’s memory, a year is remembered by the one landmark event that occurred in that year. 2011 will be the year that India won the World Cup at home.

It was around that time, timed perfectly after the World Cup that the Anna Hazare movement began.

I was skeptical of it from the beginning.

 

I was skeptical of the campaign for a variety of reasons. Personally, I don’t agree with the method of fast-unto-death. I’m sure it was what Gandhi used, but in the hands of a lunatic, it is a dangerous method to employ. Also, it is the lazier way out. Instead of working towards something, you sit on your ass all day like a cry-baby till someone hears you out.

And having read up on Anna’s methods in the village Ralegaon Siddhi, I was of the belief that the means are as important as the ends.

 

*

 

The best part about being a student, is not having to pay monthly rent. The second best part is that you can spend quality time on Facebook.

Around the year 2011, Facebook rose above the other sites that the average Indian surfed. The word ‘Social Networking’ was thrown around – giving it an important feel. Showing us that being on Facebook was more profound than stalking girls, and adding ‘Turn Ons – Lightning’ on Orkut.

 

I spent hours debating about topics, made a few friends and pissed a few people of.

On why I didn’t support the campaign, and why it was mass emotional masturbation, and it won’t really lead to anything constructive if we go on candle marches. You can’t change a political situation by protesting, I said, it has to be institutional.

I also wrote a blog on my views. And it was around this time that I realised that a blog is more than just an online journal. That people are affected by the written word.

 

Since I was on the other side of the fence, Anna Hazare was easy to pick on. He suggested methods like hanging the corrupt, and beating up people who drink alcohol. But when people asked me what I thought of Kejriwal, I had no answer. Kejriwal stayed away from the rhetoric, and was spending time giving lectures and asking youngsters to vote.

He spoke about going through an institutional method than an emotional one.

 

*

 

It’s been two years, and much has happened since the time Anna Hazare went on his fast, and Baba Ramdev wore a salwar-pyjama, complete with a white dupatta. There was the Delhi Gangrape, Tendulkar retired, Tejpal’s career came down in a lift, films released and earned 100’s of crores.

And quietly, Kejriwal was going about his business.

When he floated a political party on October 2^nd last year, I remember thinking ‘Better late than never’. He also gave it a spectacular name. The name Aam Aadmi Party is a masterstroke in two ways, as a bureaucrat I work for pointed out to me. Firstly, the Congress won it’s last two terms on the plank of the ‘Aam Aadmi ka Party’. They won’t dare repeat that this time. Also, political parties that have long been dynastic dens, will think twice before claiming to work for the Common Man. Also, the acronym adds up to AAP, making it a party that belongs to YOU.

 

And who could have thought of a better election symbol?

Not since Harry Potter did a broom have such an immense impact on people! The image is loaded with meaning, and leaves no doubt about it’s intentions!

Come to think of it, the other election symbols don’t really convey anything. What does a right hand mean? And a lotus? Or worse still, a bicycle. But a Broom; now that’s a masterstroke!

 

I watched on, following the party through their activities – being accused, and accusing, organizing rallies, calling the government corrupt, going about the motions.

 

 

And somehow, Anna Hazare seemed to have problems with Kejriwal. Personally, I am glad Anna isn’t a part of the Aam Aadmi Party – his means being unconstitutional, and his pull being an emotional rather than an institutional one. The fallout between Anna and Kejriwal proved that this man was fine with going separate paths from the biggest crowd-puller.

And through the campaign, there were three things that Kejriwal did differently:

 1.      Candidates:

Instead of a bunch of morons who came out of the scrotum of another politician, the Aam Aadmi Party fielded candidates who were enthusiastic, were from the middle or lower middle class, and who did not need to have police protection behind them – twisting the concept of a neta on its head.

 2.     Issues, not Emotions

This was perhaps the most heartening. For the first time, there was someone talking about bijli, paani, and sadak. I am sick of politicians talking about communities, about regions, and picking at each other.

Rahul Gandhi seems like the spoilt Headmaster’s son, rambling about whatever comes to his mind. Modi, whose campaign began on the development plank, spends more time criticizing the Congress – like the bully of the class.

Amidst such cacophony, were people who were going from door to door, speaking to people about things that really matter. Ram or Allah will not come to your house and give you electricity. They have bigger issues, even though I cant see what they seem to be doing about it.

 3.     Manifesto

For the first time, there was some thought being given to a manifesto. The party had customized manifestoes for each of the constituencies – picking issues that affected the local people – instead of a please-all, VegFriedRice-PaneerButterMasala sort of solution.

 

The other thing about the Aam Aadmi Party’s campaign was for the first time, I was witnessing an entire campaign revolving around issues, and nothing else. For all of Modi’s erudition, and Rahul Gandhi’s bluntness, one always gets an inkling of references to caste, religion and region. Here, there was no mention of any such thing.

And then, it was time for the battle.

 

*

 

Now, the best part about being a cynic is that you’re never disappointed.

If something happens, you can simply shrug your shoulders and say, “I told you so!”. I waited to see what would come of the entire exercise.

So when I saw the results of the Delhi Assembly elections, it was hard not to sit up and take notice.

To get a realistic feel of what the victory means, have a look at some of the candidates who won this time.

 

80-year-old, four-time Congress legislator, Chaudhary Prem Singh, who had not lost a single election over the past 50 years in his Ambedkar Nagar constituency, was defeated by AAP’s new entrant Ashok Kumar by 16,000 votes and ended up in the third spot.

Kumar was followed by BJP candidate Khushi Ram Chunar who lost to him by a margin of 11,670 votes.

AAP candidate Rakhi Birla defeated four-time Congress MLA and Public Works Department Minister Raj Kumar Chauhan by a margin of 10,585 votes in in Mangolpuri.

Three-time winner, Congress candidate Veer Singh Dhingan was beaten by Dharmender Singh of AAP by a margin of 11,976 votes.

In Bawana, AAP candidate Manoj defeated last assembly poll’s winner Surender Kumar of Congress and won against Gugan Singh of BJP by 25,639 votes.

Prakash from AAP also made a record of sorts by garnering maximum votes from Deoli constituency (51,646) defeating BJP (34,538) and Congress (26,140) by huge margins.

Manoj Kumar of AAP also wrote history by defeating Congress party’s heavyweight candidate, MLA Amrish Singh Gautam in Kondli.

He also beat BJP candidate Dushyant Kumar Gautam by a margin of 7,490 votes in Kondli.

Source: Economic Times. http://goo.gl/S0VkSp

 

This could be Beginner’s Luck, of course.

Also, I understand that replicating something like this on the national scale is a different ball game. It’s true that in a few years, there will be some black sheep in this party too.

But what Kejriwal achieved on 8^th December shows that it is possible.

 

Aam Aadmi Party’s success needs to be spoken about. And hailed.

To float a party, appoint newbie candidates, campaign for issues, and beat the biggies in their game.

Aam Aadmi Party might not go on to become a major political force, but it gives one hope, that it is possible.

 

So for all the hatred, and the snide remarks I passed. And all the supporters of Anna that I called morons and dimwits:

Here I am. I have taken off my Kavacha and Kundala. And I bow down and fold my hands and say.

“Good job, mate!”

Aye, why you hurting my sentiments??

There was a time when I would wait for Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s films.

I loved getting transported into those timeless, geography-less lands that he created. I loved the drama, the colour, the painful soundtracks. It was just what my teenage heart needed.

Unfortunately, while my taste in cinema has grown, Bhansali’s endeavors seem increasingly tiring by the day. I am sure in his nightmares, Maps and Calendars come walking towards Bhansali, their hands outstretched, making whooshing noises.

If you strip them down to their basics, Bhansali’s films have always centred around a handicap (Khamoshi, Black, Guzarish), or unrequited love (Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, Sawariya). While enough has been said about his knack for creating these other-worldly worlds, the colours and the drums seem unnecessary in this film.

Playing to the galleries, Ram Leela is an average story, and all the peacocks and the statues and the colours cannot change that fact. And by the time the three hour colourfest has ended, you’re sincerely wishing the two of them die already. Since it’s inspired by Romeo and Juliet, don’t we all know how it’s going to end?

At the end of the day, Ram Leela is like Gordon Ramsay cooking pani puri. A good cook stirring up an everyday dish. So whether you like Ram Leela or not, depends on what you feel about Gordon Ramsay preparing Pani Puri.

*****************************

But what’s more interesting than the film itself, is the controversy surrounding the film.

You see, some groups were offended by the film’s content.

The film hurt their religious sentiments. Even before the bloody film released!

Absurd, you say?

I don’t think so. Even before Lord Krishna was born, Kamsa had known that the boy would offend his sensibilities (by killing him). So it’s not all that a novel idea to get offended by things we haven’t even seen yet.

I did a bit of research on who were these sensitive people who got offended, and who should I find, but my old friends?

The Bajrang Dal.

For years now, the Bajrang Dal has magnanimously taken up the daunting task of handling our sentiments. And that is a Herculean task.

Because as a nation, we love taking offence. It’s what we do.

I read in the news that Bajrang Dal had taken offence to the film because it was called Ram Leela. Very, very, valid point.

It’s such an overarching point that it negates the need for other banalities, like actually watching the film to find out what it is about. Ever the logical diplomats, this is the reason that was given – “The title has the name Ram, and Leela is associated with Lord Krishna, so people would mistake it for a mythological film, but it is a film steeped in sex, violence, and vulgarity.”

Don’t you feel like standing up and saluting? I know!

Because we live in dark ages, where we walk into a film having knowledge only of its name. Trailers, teasers, and promotions are for Martians, in case they want to enjoy some of our films.

*

But this is not new at all. We have been banning films for a few years now. And while you’d expect that with time, societies around the world would loosen up their iron grip on culture, in India we keep going a step backwards every year. Let’s have a look at the list.

Fanaa: The film was banned in Gujarat because Aamir Khan had spoken out against the Narmada Dam project. Personal opinion, you say? Haha, you little fool, you.

Billoo Barber: The film was based on Billoo, who’s a barber. Apparently, barbers took offence to a barber being called a barber. Dignity of labour, you say? Haha.

Black Friday: Unlike other films, this film did not malign anybody’s name or character. In fact, it is among the rare films that uses real names, real locations, real incidents. But how can something that really happened, be offensive? Haha.

The best part is, these films were banned before they were released. Before anybody had an inkling as to what the film could have contained. Talk about a seventh sense.

And as if the petitions aren’t intellectually stimulating enough, Indian courts entertain these people and pass those laws. Raasleela has been banned in the UP, as were the earlier films mentioned in the list.

Now, isn’t it the work of courts to uphold someone’s legal right to release a film? For all their erudition and experience, shouldn’t lawyers and courts be looking at larger issues? Aren’t we heading towards a Banana Republic, if any Tom, Dick, and Hairy can walk up to a court with a piece of paper and stall the release of a film?

*

But you shouldn’t get depressed. No, no.

Apart from upholding our culture as a nation, religious groups also take on the side job of entertaining us once in a while.

The second reason for banning the film was this – How can a character named ‘Ram’, be involved in violence and killing?

Because you know, Lord Ram vanquished Raavan by sending him a bouquet of roses. After which Raavan wiped his tears with the words, “Ab bas kar. Rulaayega kya?”

The petition goes on to say that the character named Ram is also involved in other trades, like selling of vulgar CDs, and is a general Casanova.

Very very valid point.

I am sure I couldn’t get through the Bajrang Dal because my CAT score was only 18%. After all, how else could one come up with points like this, you tell me?

Talking of which, let’s look at some other people who dared to act against their names.

Govinda: Even though he is named after Lord Krishna, he had the audacity to romance Raveena Tandon. He also shamed the nation, Lord Krishna, and the entire cosmos (because the entire cosmos was inside Krishna’s mouth!), by wearing yellow pants, and crooning ‘Meri pant bhi sexy’. He should have instead crooned ‘Mama Pitambaram Ati Madhuram’. Burn his house and blacken his face, I say.

Ram Jethmalani: Mr. Jethmalani has two wives. In one stroke a few strokes, he has shamed the name of Lord Ram, who was faithful to Mother Sita all through his life, never looking at any other woman, us nazar se.

But this shameless Jethmalani fellow goes on to live his life without his face being blackened.

Shakti Kapoor: Even though he’s named after Shakti, Mr. Kapoor has less than religious feelings towards women. In an interview, he told a girl that she has to ‘fuck’ to get ahead in her career.

Apart from this sacrilegious act, his career has spanned a wide vista of characters – ranging from the friendly neighbourhood sex offender, to a vicious rapist. How about we blacken his face?

Oh wait, we already have!

Bala Krishna: Named after Child Krishna, this actor has done things that can neither be counted as Krishna-like, nor childlike. Apart from being accused in a shooting incident, he has also done things that little Krishna would never have imagined. Even though he had the whole cosmos in his mouth.

How dare these people do anything vulgar, when they have been blessed with names of Gods?

How can they dare do their own thing, even though this is a free country?

How can they offend my sensibilities?

Blacken their bloody faces!!

Why I’m not Orgasming over Modi yet

It is undeniably heartening to see the response Modi has got on being chosen the PM candidate. Heartening that probably for the first time, someone from humble origins has come up to the top, waving a massive middle finger at dynastic politics. That there is someone whose main platform is development.

However, the frenzy on social media seems a little hollow, and half baked. He might have stellar records to back him up, but to speak of him as the panacea for all troubles might be a little too far-fetched.

If only!

And it is perfectly understandable why he makes the intelligentsia uncomfortable.

1. Polarised Opinion: Ever since Modi has been in the reckoning, the entire political discourse in the country has been reduced to a dogs vs. cats sort of argument. You are either a right wing fundamentalist, or a pseudo-intelligent, pseudo-secular Congress stooge.

Well, sorry to break it to you. But there are others too, you know. Those who are sickened by dynastic politics and yet might differ from your opinion. Those who want a sane discussion without being reduced to either one of the categories. The space for sensible dialogue has vanished. The Congress calls him Rambo. And Modi’s supporters say Amartya Sen is not Indian because he has a foreign wife. It’s all become a terribly off-putting farce.

But it is difficult to even put across a point to Modi fanboys, because they will hear none of it. You have to be able to slit your wrist, take some blood, and apply it as a tilak on your head, or you are a Congress supporter, or a Communist.

A polarised discussion leads to nothing, except Arnab Goswami fapping away with pleasure, looking down at us lesser mortals.

2. Media Bashing: Another favourite pastime of Modi fanboys is to diss the media.

Yes, I understand that our nation’s media does not blow our minds away on a regular basis with its sensitivity, but isn’t it a little hypocritical?

Much of the hailed ‘revolution’ that has occurred in the last few years, has been primarily because of the media. The Anna Hazare campaign was promoted by the media, the media hounded the government on scams, and also had a major part in the push for justice in the Delhi gangrape case.

Also, much of Modi’s allure is because he handles media very well. Every speech of his is covered live by news channels, and even his speech in Hyderabad, where BJP has little presence, was beamed to the entire nation.

Also, the media has even made up facts, as shown during the Uttarakhand floods, knowing fully well that there will be gullible morons waiting to believe everything thrown their way. Also, when Modi was declared PM candidate, NDTV (which is spoken of as a sister concern of the Congress) flashed a banner asking people to send him wishes. Surely that’s not ethical, right? But why bother when Modi is being praised.

But God forbid, if the media reports anything against the guy, or so much as carries an opinion of a person who feels that the earth doesn’t revolve around Modi, god save them. They are damned Congress supporting pricks who probably party in Delhi with the crooks, right?

Very mature.

3. Bottom of the Pyramid:

Skewed statistics or not, Modi has undoubtedly succeeded in being able to use development as a political plank. The business class, the people of Gujarat, and people on Facebook are convinced about his abilities as a leader.

But governing a state and the entire country are two different things. While Modi’s popularity among the social media-savvy crowd of the country is unquestionable, there are no real statistics on his popularity outside Gujarat, in the lower middle-class sections of the society. And it’s an undeniably large number.

Also, most urban youth in the country don’t actually vote.

Here’s a look at the urban voter turnout in our top metros in the last municipal elections held there:

Source: http://ibnlive.in.com/news/low-voter-turnout-a-reality-for-big-indian-cities/230915-37-170.html

The game clearly lies in the rural and semi-urban belts. The biggest challenge for Modi would be to convert his popularity into people who cast their vote.

So instead of preaching on Facebook, how about you actually go cast your vote this time?

It’s also a great opportunity to show Salman Khan the middle finger

4. The big Muslim question:

There, I said it.

It is funny how if you simply say the word Muslim while discussing politics, people will growl at you and begin calling you names. I find it a little derogatory the way Muslims are discussed. It is always about secularism, or vote bank politics. As if Muslims are not normal people who might also want better amenities, better governance, and the same bloody things that a Hindu might want.

Now, the reason why media houses hound Modi with the same question, is because it is stunning to see someone as obstinate as that. Everytime he is asked about the Godhra riots, the channel is accused of being a pseudo-secular.

Firstly, no one is asking him to admit his guilt. But as the leader of a nation with multiple religions, would it cost the earth to even give a word of assurance? To express regret at what happened, and to assure that it won’t happen again? As the leader of the nation, isn’t that a tiny bit of what you’re supposed to do?

Another baffling explanation that is given is the example of how Congress caused the Delhi riots. What is this, a checklist? If they caused the riots, shouldn’t you aspire to be better than them? If you accuse them of playing the minority card for votes, are you being any different here?

But no. Try explaining this to a Modi fanboy and watch as he reduces you to an Android. Complete with the green suit and all.

5. The dirty coalition politics:

While the UPA had it better off with only four major allies, the NDA is a motley crew of parties who are as dependable as Rohit Sharma when it comes to keeping the government afloat. More alliance members means greater instability at the centre.

And since it is far fetched to imagine that a Shibu Soren might be having the benefit of the nation in mind, it will mean a terrible tug of war in four directions. Exactly the kind of thing that would make the industry high five itself and do a somersault in pleasure, eh?

Vajpayee had to resign as Prime Minister for the first time after 13 days, and the second time after 13 months, following which the NDA successfully remained in power for its full term. Modi’s challenge will lie not only in getting to the top post, but keeping it tight up there, by fostering a strong bond among the alliances.

But like I said, there is only so much one can trust parties like Jharkhand Mukti Morcha.

6. The Ugly Tangle of Religion:

As someone who abhors religion becoming a part of politics, I find the unholy tangle that the BJP is a part of, a little unsettling.

Much of the BJP’s actions are determined after consultation with the RSS and VHP. It is baffling how a religious organisation could have a say in politics when they do not even contest elections. But sadly, that is how it is.

Mention this to a Modi fanboy, and it will quickly be sidetracked, and you will be smothered with statistics and investment figures. Because nobody wants to talk about it.

And keeping the RSS and VHP aside, there are other smaller organisations that don the saffron colour to push their agendas. Bajrang Dal, whose members tick off February 14 on their calendars to have some fun. Sriram Sene, whose members beat up women from entering a pub. In Ranchi, girls wearing jeans could have acid thrown on them. How is this progress, again? Or change?

And with all the criticism against the UPA for being soft on terror, has Modi said anything about the Bajrang Dal? Members of the organisation have been involved in bombmaking on more than one occasion, even accused of planting bombs. How are they any different from terrorists? And organisations like Bajrang Dal and VHP are directly a part of the Sangh Parivar, which is the guiding body for the BJP.

Agreed that Islamic terrorism is a worldwide threat, but is this a comparison game?

If Modi really is the man for progress and a fresh thought, will he be able to distance himself and his party from its religious links?

Look at the amount of intolerance for films and film festivals, books and literary fests. And this is perhaps why most intelligentsia is against Modi. Not because they are people with low IQ, but because the rise of religion in politics means a direct threat to their work and lives.

And I would have said the same thing even if we were a Muslim country and someone coming to power meant more mob control for Muslims. It is a dangerous trend, mixing politics and religion. It is how elections in Pakistan are fought.
If Modi really has to impress me, he should be able to fight off the stranglehold that religious groups have over his party.
So there you go, those are the reasons why I am not orgasming over Modi, yet.

I hope he can prove me wrong on all the counts, and I would be his biggest admirer.

But till then, I don’t want to buy that Modi mask. Thank you.

Aam Aadmi Rape vs. Baba Rape

Namaste.

Over the last few days, many of our brothers and sisters have been raising questions about Asaramji, with regard to the rape accusations.

These people are foolish. They do not understand the truth.

But that is alright. I hold no grudges against them. “A man whose heart is free from doubt and away from passion, attains the supernatural powers of the Supreme Lord,” Bapu has said.

On this day, let me explain to those people who are raising these questions on Bapuji. Let me spread the light of knowledge on the ignorance of the masses. May they see the light of truth!

Tamasoma Jyotiraditya Scindia. 

Hari Om!

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Let us begin with the basic accusation. Of the rape.

Now you see, there is a difference between an Aam Aadmi Rape (i.e. a rape done by a normal man) and a Baba Rape (i.e. a rape committed by a saint).

A Baba Rape is different.

Let us begin with the first point: The reaction.

Now, when a common man is accused of rape, people take to the streets. Often, people are seen to ask for the rapists to be hanged/castrated/married to Arnab Goswami. But then, those are the ordinary citizens. We are talking about people who have evolved to a higher level of consciousness.

You see, in a Baba Rape, you cannot simply ask for conviction and justice. That is sin. Shiva Shiva! *mock slaps both cheeks in quick succession*

You see, when a Baba Rapes, it is a political conspiracy. It is not just a mundane case of a man violating a woman, it is a grand storm that is brewed in the highest centers of power. It does not entail a simple penetration, it is hatched by the sharpest of minds, and then planned, and then the actors are sent to put the plan into action. It is a conspiracy of Ghattotkacha proportions.

Secondly, when it is an Aam Aadmi Rape (AAR), there is an immediate nationwide hunt for the accused. Their photos are on Facebook, their posters put out in the open. Televisions run their sketches on their news bulletins. But you can’t do that to a guruji, no?

When we talk about a Baba Rape, things are different. For one, Guruji will still come on television in the morning (5 AM, Sankar TV, by the way. Please watch. Hari Om!). Also, Guruji will be supported on television by many people. Some of them even former Chief Ministers. They will declare Guruji ‘innocent’. Which is of course, the truth, as you, our Lord, and the entire universe knows. Yet these doubting Thomases want to go through investigations, blood samples, and other such banal procedures!

Thirdy, the discourse around the rape victim is also a matter of great importance. Generally, in an AAR, it is the victim whose condition (drunken or sober), attire (saree or western outfit), or social status (married, divorced) is discussed. Guruji has also spoken on this issue earlier, when he had said that the girl could have tied a rakhi to the rapists and called them ‘bhaiyya’. See how simple, and what a beautiful solution it is? The girl would have got six brothers, and they would see her off safely at her bus stop. But then, kya karein, some people do not understand.

In the case of a Baba Rape, however, the girl is a liar. This has already been established. Firstly, the girl is from Gwalior, the rape is supposed to have happened in Jodhpur, and the FIR was lodged in Delhi. Why?

Also, Guruji’s son has also publicly said that the girl is mentally challenged. Pagal hai ladki. And like one of our brothers said on Times Now yesterday, if a girl has accused a great soul of rape, how can her mental condition be right in the first place?

Those who are making these accusations do not know of the achievements of Asaram Bapu. Asaramji runs thousands of schools for poor children, providing education and livelihood to many, many citizens of the country. He is also seen as a spiritual icon, and revered by lakhs of devotees.

Which naturally means that he is elevated over what you and me, dear brother and sister have to go through.

Please understand, dear brothers and sisters, that there is a difference between an Aam Aadmi Rape and a Baba Rape.

An Aam Aadmi Rape is an act of a citizen of the country violating the modesty of a woman.

A Baba Rape, is an erection of the inner consciousness, a thrusting of one’s efforts, and a climax resulting in an outpour of enlightenment. Thank you!

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(Adjusts hair) Theek tha, bhai? 

Ek dafa aur de doon? 

Katju ka Faltu mein Man Dola

Being a blogger in India is like being a dope peddler in Jamaica, or a match fixer in Pakistan. You never run out of stuff.

Every week, there are people literally screaming to be mentioned here. People making absolute asses of themselves, in full public view, and seeming very proud of it as well.

This week’s contribution is by Justice Katju.

Now, I don’t know if the national media has an agenda to pick one person for the entire year and publish whatever they say. If you think about it, every year, there is one person who is mentioned in the news again and again. There was Rakhi Sawant, Mahesh Bhatt, Poonam Pandey, and now this year, it is Justice Katju.

The most annoying thing about Justice Katju is not the fact that he closely resembles singer Abjijit Bhattacharya (the Sunny Deol of the Bollywood music industry – always screaming against Pakistani singers, but rarely finding work these days)

The most annoying thing about Justice Katju is the utter contempt in his statements for everyone else but himself. Justice Katju has had an outstanding career as a judge, but how does that qualify him to become the Chairman of the Press Council of India? To a layman, the role of the role of the Chairman of the PCI would mean monitoring the media of the country. Not bitchslapping politicians, supporting actors, and calling 90% of the nation ‘idiots’.

Justice Katju doling out wisdom in one of his many avatars

Does becoming the Chairman of the PCI entitle you to an opinion on everything? Apparently, it does.

So Katju appeared on our newspapers this week, saying that Sanjay Dutt needs to be pardoned.

Now, I can understand that Bollywood folks want him set free. Going by the kind of stories chosen to be made, the average IQ of a Bollywood actor might mildly surpass that of an anteater’s. They can’t be taken seriously.

Most of the messages say, “Sanjay Dutt is not a criminal.” Hmmmm. Why would a person keep an AK-56 with him, then? A collector of antiques, may be? A connoisseur of firing weapons? Or may be he liked the film Ab-taK 56? I don’t know. Like their films, their arguments don’t make sense.

But why would a learned man like Justice Katju talk about freeing an actor? Not only does the idea seem preposterous coming from a former Chief Justice, it is a bukkake in the face of that idol in every court that stands for equality before law.

And not only did Mr. Katju simply state his wishes, he wrote a letter to the Governor of Maharashtra. A six point letter that will go down in history as one of the greatest letters ever written by a judge.

Here is the letter:

Your Excellency,

The media has reported today that Sanjay Dutt has been awarded 5 years imprisonment by the Supreme Court. I appeal to you to pardon him under Article 161 of the Constitution for the following reasons:

(i) The Supreme Court, having found that Sanjay Dutt had in his possession a prohibited weapon without a licence, awarded him the minimum imprisonment which was prescribed under law. Section  25 (1(A) of the Arms Act states that if a person has in his possession a prohibited weapon without a licence he shall be awarded punishment of not less than 5 years imprisonment and not more than 10 years. Having found Sanjay Dutt in possession of a prohibited weapon, which is defined in Section 2 (1) (i) of the Arms Act as an automatic weapon which keeps firing until release of the pressure on the trigger, the Supreme Court awarded him 5 years imprisonment. However, there is power in the Court under Section 4 of the Probation of Offenders Act, 1958 to release the person under these circumstances of the case on furnishing a bond.

A few months back, Katju had said that 90% of Indians were idiots. The contempt comes across clearly as he defines for us idiots what is a gun (an automatic weapon which keeps firing until release of the pressure on the trigger). He then goes on to mention the exact clause under which Dutt could be pardoned, but ignores that it would be unfair to all the others ‘idiots’ who are accused of the same crime.

He then goes on to explain with the help of six points why Dutt needs to be pardoned. Each of those points are so rich, so dipped in logic that he should win six Booker prizes for each of those points.

 

a. The event happened in 1993 i.e. 20 years ago. During this period Sanjay suffered a lot, and had a cloud hovering over his head throughout. He had to undergo various tribulations and indignities during this period. He had to go to Court often, he had to take the permission of the Court for foreign shootings, he could not get bank loans, etc.

 

Okay, firstly. Let’s talk about the indignities that Sanjay Dutt went through. The media (which Katju is supposed to monitor as part of his real job, by the way) has been following Dutt since the time he was first jailed. It has created a ‘bad boy’ image for him, something he has exploited in numerous films. His case was fought for by Ram Jethmalani, that paragon of justice and equality, which obviously is what he means by ‘indignities’. Incidentally, a 71 year old woman Zaibunissa Qazi, was charged with the same crime (possession of arms) but since she did not have the entire nation asking for mercy, she was charged with TADA. For the same crime, all the others get booked under TADA, but not Sanjay Dutt.

Over the years, Sanjay Dutt was paid crores to act in unintelligent films like ‘Waah! Life ho to Aisi’ and ‘Rudraksh’ – inflicting mental torture on viewers after having them pay for it. He enjoyed a luxurious life of cars and bikes, and if the media is to be believed, is paid 5-7 crores for each of the 4-5 films he signs every year. India’s Per Capita Income has been marked as Rs. 5,729 per month. This guy earns 30 crores a year, and you say he needs to be pardoned because of the indignities he faced, like asking the court’s permission to leave the country?

 

b. Sanjay Dutt has already undergone 18 months in jail.

Hmmm. Alright. So the punishment is ‘not less than 5 years in jail’, which comes to 60 months. He has served 18 months. With the gift of Mathematics that Justice Katju is endowed with, he has arrived at the conclusion that 60 – 18 = 0. LHS = RHS. Hence Proved. The law might not be equal for everybody, Mr. Katju. Thankfully, Mathematics is.

 

c. Sanjay Dutt has got married, and they have two small children.

Katju should get a Booker Prize and a big pack of Diary Milk Silk for this point. He has gotten married and has kids. Yeah. So? The nation, its judicial system, and penal code, should bend over backwards to forgive this guy. Because he put his life at risk to have kids?

Dawood Ibrahim is married with kids, as is Chhota Shakeel. How about we pardon them too? If that is one of the points on which you demand he be pardoned, what about the rest of our criminals? With a population nearing 200 crores, why don’t we make a list of all the criminals with kids, and then pardon them? Mental fellow!

 

d. He has not been held to be a terrorist, and had no hand in the bomb blasts.

This is again baffling. A few years back, Justice Katju was part of the bench that gave bail to Binayak Sen. Binayak Sen is a doctor who was working in the interiors of the jungles of Jharkhand. He was charged with sedition and conspiring against the state. Katju said that ‘mere membership of a banned organisation would not make a person a criminal under the TADA”. Now, Sanjay Dutt was booked under the same case, TADA. He was accused of purchasing firearms from the propagators of the 93 blasts. And not just a mere pistol, mind you. Abu Salem and co-accused Riyaz Siddiqui delivered 9 AK – 56 rifles and some hand grenades, and later a pistol. And then, people say he wanted to protect his family. Against what? The Chinese Army??

In another point that no one brings up amidst the bonhomie, Dutt was known to be close to the gangsters. The pistol he purchased was given to him by Anees Ibrahim, Dawood’s brother. Also, Outlook in 2002 released a series of transcripts where Dutt speaks to Chhota Shakeel, calling him ‘bhai’, talking about film projects, and asking him to ‘fix’ some people in the industry. When you know the entire nation is looking for a person for the death of more than 300 people, and you keep in touch with him over the phone and ask for his blessings, doesn’t it cast some shadows on your character? But of course, Mr. Katju could just put it down to some extra social networking. That’s all!

 

e. His parents Sunil Dutt and Nargis worked for the good of society and the nation. Sunil Dutt and Nargis often went to border areas to give moral support to our brave jawans and did other social work for society.

This is again a load of bull. Being a Supreme Court judge, could Mr. Katju show me one document, one legal instance or ruling where someone was pardoned because his parents were good people who worked for the society? They might have done social work, but isn’t the point of a law and legal system to punish someone for their own crimes, and not forgive them for the virtues of their parents? Are we living in the times of Krishna, where Shishupala was pardoned because his mother was a noble person?

What sort of a fucked up logic is this?

And finally, the greatest point of them all, aptly titled “f”.

f. Sanjay in this period of 20 years has through his film revived the memory of Mahatma Gandhi and the message of Gandhiji, the father of the nation.

Really, Mr. Katju? He revived the memory of Mahatma Gandhi? By acting in a film where he imagines Gandhi giving him advice? Going by the same logic, Raj Kumar Hirani should be smiling right now. He can go and shoot Anu Malik for the terrible music in Munnabhai MBBS and get away with it. After all, he was the director, the captain of the ship, right? He was responsible in keeping the memory of Gandhi alive.

Also, Ajay Devgan and Bobby Deol for Bhagat Singh, Sunny Deol for Chandrashekar Azad, Aamir Khan for Mangal Pandey, and Rajpal Yadav for Hero – Love Story of a Spy? How about we give them all some immunity because they kept the memories of our heroes alive? And going by the same logic, Manoj Bajpayee and Nawazuddin Siddiqui should go to jail for their roles in Gangs of Wasseypur, no?

The fact is that the same law through which you earned your bread and butter, Mr. Katju, is strong enough to refuse you your shallow demands. It will stand true on its own, in spite of the sycophantic ass-licking that the entire nation seems to be engaged in.

It’s true that Sanjay Dutt is not a terrorist. It’s true that he did not purchase the guns to shoot people. But he did it fully aware of the repercussions, and of the identity of the people he bought them from. For every Sanjay Dutt, there are thousands of convicts who do not have access to top lawyers, or the comfort of hundreds of crores to keep their families comfortable while they serve their sentence.

You should be ashamed, Mr. Katju. Being an icon in legal circles, you have shattered every ounce of respect I had for you.

Welcome to the 90% Club, Mr. Katju. We are all idiots, aren’t we?