The Joke's On Us

              The proverbial sun has risen from the west and once in a lifetime event has transpired - Yes, Ladies and Gents, the Parliament has agreed, unanimously. This is the biggest achievement of Babasaheb since the creation of the constitution itself - Putting all of the constitution's gatekeepers on the same side of the fence. The only difference being, when history was created first, he was riding the aspirations of a novel nation in the making. Today he is riding an innocuous textbook snail.

               As a child, I detested the Social and Political Science textbooks – they were riddled with hard-to-memorize names and dates; bizarre-sounding buildings and gloom-and-doom spelling procedures. Madonna in polka was infinitely more appealing than Mahanagar Palika. Sitting besides the window overlooking the soccer field, I used to eagerly await the symphony of the lecture-bell and the upcoming 'Games' period. Today, looking up the basics of our constitutional structures on Wikipedia has given me ample time of reflect on the golden words lost in the I-hate-studies scribble on my desk.

                As I googled the pages of the banned text-book, I was elated to see the interactivity and interest they brought right in the middle of the classroom. If a picture is worth a thousand words, a cartoon is perhaps worth a few more - A picture merely represents a snap-shot of history but a cartoon puts laughter and question marks on top of it. We need a gamut of question to pop up in young minds- What are the drawbacks of going jet-speed v/s taking it easy? Why were Nehru and Babasaheb on different time tracks? Why was Rome and our constitution not built in a day?

                 The need of the hour is to develop healthy, inquisitive and thinking minds in our new generation which - as the famous Apple comeback advertisement eloquently puts - are crazy enough to think they can change the world. We have instead settled for politically-correct mediocrity, yet again. Haven't our 'snailophobic' politicians heard of the age-old anecdote of the hare and the tortoise? Our impeccable constitution and this cartoon put together perhaps illustrate the most shining instance of how slow and steady wins the race, only if someone would see. 

                  Another facade to the narrative is the age-old mega-saga of jingoism and hero-worship. We are bang in the middle of a 'beef-market' of corruption and poverty, and all we can think of is 'holy cows' - of all kind, by the way - Dalit and Brahmin, Congress and the left. Ahem! The irony is the 'holy cows' never demanded their own beatification - Nehru himself didn't want the cartoonist to spare him, while Babasaheb penned an entire article 19 to put every Indian, including himself, at the receiving end of every other Indian's free speech. Perhaps for the politician of today, the sole meaning of free speech has shrunk to free flow of senseless slogans to sabotage the tiniest possibility of a sane parliamentary debate.

                   More worrying than all is our sense of victimhood we want our children to inherit. I feel ashamed as an Indian if the only interpretation of the thought-provoking cartoon is that of a 'upper caste' gentleman whipping a supposedly inefficient 'not-so-upper caste' comrade. The new India is faster-than-a-hare breaking free from shackles of creed. The last election in the hitherto caste-hell land of Uttar Pradesh is the finest example of our upward trajectory to caste-free skies. Unnecessary divide-reinforcing tactics is the last thing a country on the path of affirmative action needs.

                    Yet at times, I feel it only boils down to the tragic demise of our Netas' sense of humor. A cartoon is punishable by jail in Mamta land. Lalu land is full of his PJs but its grain-less people and fodder-less cows find it impossible to muster energy to laugh. Sibal's ideal tweet-land is joke-censored and satire-free, so much for the trending Manu Singhvi. Is the ban on cartoons in childhood a survival-training in lands to come? Is this an exercise in nipping innocent giggles in the bud before they turn into critical laughter?

              To leave you on a positive note, I was amazed at the plethora of imaginative interpretations of the same cartoon. To one, the snail was in fact an alien space-ship with two antennas. Some viewed an amalgamation of whipped aggression and strapped control.  Few others saw a race between Nehru and Babasaheb, with the latter on a nail-biting finish in spite of riding a snail. Yet another couldn't take their eyes off the thousand smiles in the background, eager for the final run-down. Have your ideas and interpretations, but perhaps the most important of all is perhaps to have a little laugh too.

A Tale of Two Hours

                               The din of jingoistic debates and the sound of 'Chamak Challo' is doing the rounds. Yes, Shah Rukh Khan is detained at US

Immigrations for two hours, again, and the news has reverberations right from Bollywood (understandably) to the Indian Foreign Office (really?). The nation, fresh from wounds of the 'Top Gear - India Special' episode' is dancing to the tunes of 'pride and retribution', again. Of course, this affront to the identity of our nation itself, is worthy of all the media glare and diplomatic posturing. Or is it?
                               The perfect solution to our dilemma is 'Chioma Chukwuka'. No, it's no secret mantra to fix the US Immigration system and no tongue-twister to take your mind off the SRK episode. These are the initials of a very popular Nigerian actor. I, like most of you, am blissfully unaware of Nollywood, the Nigerian movie industry. Yet, I googled 'African Cinema' to make a simple point - there exist myriad movie industries out there, all rhyming with Hollywood. Not every creature who walks the earth knows every wood.
                                So, racial profiling is the most likely culprit. Of course, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out, does it? US Immigrations invariably pick my Muslim friends for a few 'friendly pats' down their back by a supposed process of 'Random Selection'. Don't we follow suit while renting out our flats (Shabana Azmi will vouch for this), or hiring a tutor, or picking a maid? We are contenders for the top spot in the Olympics of racial profiling. Before playing the 'Pointing fingers' game, it might be prudent to recall, we elected Modi as CM, US denied him a visa.
                                 As suggested by a few wise men, how about playing the 'tit-for-tat' game then? Let's make life difficult for Americans at the Indian airports and on the street. Lo and behold! Don’t we excel at that already? From gawking as though they have descended from an alien planet, to 'eve-teasing' their women under the notion of them being 'fair game', we aren’t treading any moral high-ground here. The US immigration certainly doesn't follow the 'Athiti Devo bhava' commandment, nor do we. Aamir Khan has a point running the campaign in the same name, it's time for reflection.
                                 Of the most amusing arguments I have come across, Javed Akhtar's is by far the most entertaining (read silly). The notion of US immigration officers looking up celebrities on their IPads and flouting procedures can only radiate from the mind of a romantic lyricist. It isn't preposterous enough we Indians suffer from the VIP-worship syndrome, we are raring to infect the US too. Isn't it high time we learn from a humble man, Manohar Parrikar, the CM of Goa? True to his name, the gentleman carries his own luggage and queues up for a boarding pass at the gate.
                                 Following Mr. Akhtar very closely is the Indian ministry of External Affairs. The entity conspicuous by its silence on mass murders in Sri Lanka and anarchy in Maldives, rose to the occasion and issued 'strong' statements in response to the 'humiliation'. Such is the selectivity in our outlook, we disregard the fact that SRK was invited by Yale, one of their best universities, and honored with Chubb Fellowship, so much for an actor who can't even spell K-k-k-iran correctly (Mean joke, I agree). Worth remembering he belongs to the same ‘dreaded’ South-Asian-Muslim-Male species, on their infamous immigrations' 'List'. Appreciate their warmth and admiration of us, look for the pretty reds in the rose-garden with open eyes rather than for thorns with a microscope.
                                  To leave you on a funny note, I did a non-scientific survey amongst friends and colleagues as to the circumstances that force them to kill two hours and their weapon of choice. From the traffic on the newly-constructed super-expressway, to an argument with the incredibly uncongenial 'pandu' at the airport, to the serpentine queue at the reservation counter, the answers ran amok. Some mortals languishing in the queue found solace in a friendly chat with the white bearded 'chacha' standing besides. Some plugged their ears into the symphony of their iPods. Yet others surfed sites safe for public viewing on their iPads and playfully suggested SRK get one too - no pun intended.

The Cop on the Slut Walk.

                   I am the clichéd guy next door. I am the friend who eats 'bhajia' with you at the 'nukkad' and cracks pathetic jokes to make you giggle. I am the tired colleague who drops you home at mid-night and says "It's OK" to your worried parents. I am the lost guy at the pub, wondering if you will let me buy you a drink tonight. I am also the brother for whom 'Rakshbandhan' has translated into a daily affair. I am not all of these at one go, for that will make for some serious desi-swear-word in our lingo (Remember, the friend with pathetic jokes?)
                   Today, I thought it was extremely important me to make myself heard for I, in my various avatars, seem to to be the only unheard voice in the wake of the events over the last few weeks and the din of the self-appointed gate-keepers of morality. I hope for a day when a lady can slip into a mini-skirt and moon-walk from Chembur to Dadar, Connaught Place to Geeta Colony at 12 in the night (maybe in flats, not heels, it's quite a walk). The present reality however, is overwhelming.

Reality Check #1 - The Medieval Cop
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqlz0795gUg

             After sky-rocketing rape statistics, this Tehalka expose on the cops is the last straw. This mindset bears an uncanny resemblance to the ‘Khap panchayat’, even the nomadic era on occasions. Swanky Police websites are a semblance; in the stations they might be polishing their stone-age weapons and misogyny against the edges of their worn-out egos. 
             Mr. B.K. Gupta - Are you listening Sir? iPhones and tablets upgrade at a faster pace. Please induct fresh minds, and retrain, rewire and remove the outdated ones.

Reality Check #2 - The New-Age 'Neta'

             The tech-savvy 'Neta', on the contrary, is armed with the latest technology has to offer, except for the fact that MPs use iPads to relish porn in the middle of an assembly session. Even, women and child development minister, for gods' sake! I understand your hesitation in being a part of the most important nation-building exercise in the assembly, but how about some jazz or cooking show to impress your spouses in the evening?

            Blaming anyone is an exercise in futility- We are the ones guilty of electing the debauchers to parliament. Jago re!

Reality Check #3 – Un-safety in Numbers

            Numbers from Dehli - It accounts for 24% of total rape cases, 40% of reported kidnapping in the 35-Mega-Indian-City poll. Polls reveal 66% of it's women were molested between 2-5 times in 2010, 70% men looked the other way, as it transpired. This, after boasting a police strength of almost 80,000, twice Bombay's. Wait a minute, isn't this the national capital of India too? Yes, perhaps, the last thing that comes to your mind off late, if at all.

             Guys - The biggest shame of all - 70% of us looked the other way! Were you one of them? The cop comes second, it's us who walk every street, take every bus - We can turn around things more than anyone else.

Reality Check #4 - Was she asking for it?

              India exists in strange paradoxes. The contemporary and the classical co-exist side-by-side, at times too close for comfort. And then there is the majority in the middle- the confused - who seem to look down upon women from the west as "fair game", thanks to their portrayal in our jingoistic cinema and culture. No prizes for guessing, the Indian 'minions of the west', too, are treated the same way. Unfortunately, "She was asking for it" has become the most erroneous perception after the fallacious 'romantic' notion of 'eve-teasing'.

               Dear Mr. 'Eve teaser', if she wants to ask for it, she will ask for it. Please make yourself human enough to give yourself a little chance you are the one she asks.

Reality Check #5 - What's in a name?

               I am a big fan of satire. Not everyone is, certainly not in our nation. The sarcasm of 'Slutwalk' makes immediate sense in the west, not in our sub-continent. It makes for big headlines and great news-bytes but skews the message.

               The Muthalik's have been successful in digressing focus from the cause of  "A woman's right to dress up as she wants" to a non-issue of "The name is a crusade against Indian ethos". It makes for a great rebellion against the masses rather than their sensitization to your point of view. How about a name more in the line of a witty posture held out by one of the jubilant participants, quipping "It's a dress, not a yes"?

India Against Corruption, beyond democracy?

                     In the nation, 1.2 billion strong (and kicking), the originally-conceived notion of democracy has long surpassed the French revolution and American Independence. Much like the swift adaptation of the British High Tea to the 'nukkad wali chai', it has been boiled innumerous times, loaded with 'desi' spices, and given a flavor making it very distinctly ours.
                   The word though, means very different things to different people. To the pitch-man in Obama, marketing the US in the Indian Parliament, it's a way to hit on some commonality to help sell planes. To the self-proclaimed experts adorning Indian media, it transforms to pre-polls sooth-saying and post-polls witch-hunting TRP-upping exercises. To the ignorant, it's a five-yearly on-the-house public feast of free electronic freebies, binge drinking and (then maybe) a stained fore-finger (pun intended). To the 'charismatic' political dynasties, it's a free ride, ironically on the backs of spineless sycophants.
                     Like every Indian with a loaded 'expert-opinion' on cricket and politics, I too have my two cents' worth on Indian democracy and perils of the path it's currently treading. For the lack of a formal terminology, let me refer to it as the 'Pixilated-democracy' and it all begun with a tiny event at Jantar Mantar which snow-balled into one of the greatest movements in India in recent time. In a first, the yardstick for national consensus was not the ballot but the bytes dedicated on the 24X7 electronic and social media to the cause. The democracy of our country was hijacked by the pixels, literally.
                      Let me at the very outset put forth my great regard for Anna and Co - good team with the damn good cause. My sole endeavor is to point out the hazards of the precedent it's setting. In the land of the 'Jai Kisan', only 6% have access to the web. More importantly, not everyone who does toes the IAC line. It is imperative to draw the distinction between the huge support the slogan of anti-corruption enjoys and the specific implementation of the Jan Lokpal Bill. The 2.5 Crore missed calls IAC boasts are most likely unaware and not necessarily in favor of every clause, comma and period of the bill.
                      The idea of an 'Almighty' Lokpal too, is far from convincing. In spite of never having opened an LLB book and living with a phobia of white shirts, I still believe there exist more laws than needed to tackle the menace. The machinery which implements them, if at all, is shoddy. Unfortunately, the touted saviors of the Lokpal will not descend from the skies but will be appointed on the ground, one way or the other. I'm certain the media blitz and Anna's push will ensure a great first batch and laudable initial success but there is no gainsaying the potential of a Frankenstein monster not too far, accountable to none.
                     Mr. Kejriwal is quick to raise fingers at the 'chors' occupying the benches in the parliament but he conveniently disregards the franchise of the very people he endeavors to rescue. The vitriolic rhetoric is trying to solve the wrong problem. The crux of the issue does not lie in the thug-full side of our legislature, but with the mindset of the voter who pushes the wrong button on the EVM. Sir, akin to your great contribution to the RTI cause which empowered the masses, please enable the electorate rather than abuse the thick-skinned polity.
                    Also, I fail to get my head around the perpetual denial of the team to acknowledge the movement as a political one. "Kick the cheater Congress out" is by no standard the slogan of a civil movement, the ambivalence is misleading. The focus is fast moving from the matter at hand, corruption, to jettisoning the party in power, the Congress. Is there any assurance the BJP will fare any better on the 'Anna yardstick'? Will pamphlets then be handed out printed with a black 'lotus'? And then a 'Cycle' with deflated wheels? And then an 'Elephant' without a trunk?
                    Indian Railways is perhaps a fitting microcosm of the Indian democracy. Both criss-cross the metro and the hinterland alike. Swindlers often get on the bogies. So do the hefty and sons, who usurp the upper berths. The fans are generally mere noise-making machines and the shining neon bulbs frequently flick out. The din is disproportionate to the pace and both leave a lot of shit on the way. There are perpetual delays, and occasional derailments, but at the end of the day, our best bet perhaps is to re-invent the ticketing-system and bolster the tracks, rather than laying shaky parallel ones.

The great apathy of the great Indian Middle Class

          Oops, my big bunch of 150 million strong (and counting), much like the once-popular-now-forgotten blonde pop singer, has done it again. We have categorically re-iterated our undying commitment to both hedonism and hypocrisy, more so hypocrisy. This time, with the folly of reactions to the non-sensical "top gear" and never-sensical Jeremy. If you are reading, you, in all likelihood, belong to my "great-Indian-middle" class, for the ones above are too smug and the ones below too indifferent to explore random postings on the web.
         Now I am not, even for the minutest moment of my life, interested in motor shows. I'm in the club of innocent spectators whose reaction to a Ferrari vrooming by is, at best, "Nice car!" During the day, that is. So there I was, happily going about the business of life, only bumping accidently into "top gear" while perpetually pressing the "Up" key on my remote. Suddenly, in the course of a day, the splashing on news websites and the din on the news channels made me sit up and "listen" to over an hour's worth of worthless nonsense on BBC. Worse, I refused to take a break in the pursuit of a glimpse of the source of the hue-and-cry, didn't find any.
         Ironically, after downing a few beers later that day, the picture became clearer - the coverage was contained, so was the outrage. There wasn't an iota of opinion emanating from the by-lanes of Dharavi, not a speck from the high rises of Cuffe Parade. The outpouring of the great "hurt" was running only on the middle-class streets and there we were again, dancing to the jingoistic pied-piper's tune of "shame and retribution".
         I had an epiphany that we, middle-class humans, have metamorphosed into mediocre-class horses running around with blinds limiting our vision only west-wards. Hoardings of “Uncle Sam” and “Auntie Victoria” are omnipresent in every middle-class street. We want to look British (wanted fair bride ONLY), speak American (holy crap!), and fry, toast and kiss French (LOL). The journey from Papad to Pizza has been the swiftest  in the history of humanity. Don't get me wrong, I very much enjoy my 6-inch subway sandwich and occasional dinner down the French hut too. I am only soul searching for the concealed hypocrisy. Whilst we seek their savory cuisine do we always need to seek their unsavory approval?
          There is a middle-class conspiracy of silence surrounding the fact that our "mahan desh" is one-third BPL. We are worse than Sub-Sahara Africa on the index of malnourished children. Forget the figures, visit the neighborhood slum you blissfully ignore on you way to the mall - I'm certain all of us have the company of one, at least. There exists a huge under-belly in need of an urgent fix but we find ourselves gloating in the 7.45% GDP.
          Well, GDP neither translates to food nor a shot-in-the-arm for the impoverished, but the urge to blind ourselves (and the west) with the image of a "Shining India" is tantalizing - the reasoning, elementary. In the global world, we find ourselves dealing with the west more than ever and our colonial-hangover drives us into perpetual approval-seeking. Right from the new trainee at a BPO in Gurgaon to the hip-tourist in Zurich, we find ourselves suffering from ODC to endlessly please the "goras".
        "Top gear" is known more for their cheap humor than expert-opinion on horse-powered engines, let alone promoting any cultural harmony. To be fair to Jeremy, I had to google up the meaning of "muff". You might find it unsavory but give the poor Brits a break. Perhaps it's the first serving of their royal five-course meal and the unemployed chef in Jeremy is desperately looking to treat us. Smile politely and say "No thanks! I prefer my mava". Make a "top racism" series on Britain to scare the shit out of them - Jeremy's toilet-fitted Jaguar will come handy for the Brits.
         Laugh at them – that’s the only way to make it fair game. And for the love of humanity, let's have a little laugh at ourselves too, every once in a while.