bratgaba

Kanu Sanyal - suicide or murder?

2010-03-25T15:58:00.001+05:30

Before beginning, let me put on record (lest I be arrested for being a ‘sympathiser’) that I am not a communist (hate the word, hate the ideology), nor had I ever heard of Kanu Sanyal before news of his death.

I didn't know whether to rejoice, or feel sad at news about Kanu Sanyal's suicide. It was one of the forms of death that was inevitable for the so-called Naxalite - it had to be suicide, else ‘encounter’, no third option. If I believe the govt's propaganda (even our genteel PM says that the ‘Naxalites/Maoists’ are India's ‘Gravest Internal Security Threat’), then I should rejoice. But should I not delve deeper? Isn't it a fact that in the unstoppable quest for growth, it is ONLY the poorest of the poor who are displaced? Displaced because we need their land - for mining, for dams, for factories, for power projects.

Is it anyone's argument that our govt machinery is not among the most oppressive in the world? I live in one of the most developed cities – Bombay. Even here, have we any inkling of what the much abused ‘common man’ goes through even for the most mundane of activities? Issuance of a ration card, passport, birth certificate, death certificate, pension, electricity connection, hawking license, treatment at a govt hospital via that joke called Employee’s State Insurance Corporation (ESIC)…..and heaven forbid that s/he ever has to cross paths with the police or the courts…..you can take it for granted that her/his goose, if any, will then be effectively cooked and served to all and sundry.

I (try to) run a small business (my father’s) and as such can be counted as being among the ‘creamy layer’ of society, meaning that – I have very little idea of what it entails for the ‘common man’ to lead a ‘common man’s’ life. But I do come across bureaucracy almost on an everyday basis, be it the municipal corporation or the zillion taxation authorities. Being a rather tiny business, we don’t have the luxury of being able to call the shots like say, a Tata or an Ambani would. I cannot, for instance, tell a municipal or tax officer, who threatens to close down my factory unless I’m liberal with the grease, to shove it - anyone who has rubbed a bureaucrat the wrong way and has lived to tell the tale will know what I’m talking about – the wrath of a vengeful babu has destroyed countless lives. Therefore, giving in to regular arm-twisting is a norm rather than an exception - I guess calling it extortion would not be wrong either – I feel impotent/neutered/castrated whenever I have to bow but still, I swallow the rising bile and I bow. Even so, I am relatively isolated from the real milieu of corruption around us. But believe me, every time I travel by our sardine-can trains, every time I read about a soldier dying at our borders because of a dilli babu’s corrupt ways, every time a Qasab walks in so freely and mows us down like weeds in an overgrown lawn, every time I hear from one of my employees about how ESIC-hospital-after-ESIC-hospital has turned her/him away, every time a child falls into an open manhole somewhere, every time a ‘common man’ is threatened with violence for calling his own city by the name he’s most comfortable with, the blood moves from a simmer to a boil. I still dream (every night) of a day when I’ll finally ‘lose it’ and shoot every one of those govt goons at sight. I challenge anyone in India to look deep within her/himself and say that s/he has not had this exact dream. Can you? Once again, I remind you to keep in mind that this is a tiny example of a relatively well-off individual.

Moving on…..

…..to a place in the boondocks of India, to the people who seem to have been bypassed, ignored, forgotten in our race towards ‘superpower-dom’ – the ‘forgottens’. Our media, god bless them, does not, indeed can not report each and every farmer suicide, every police atrocity, every displacement – they’d have to close down if they did, simply because we in the cities, with our newfound purchasing power, do not want to read about it. Caught up as we are in our own flashy lives, we would rather leave the ‘dirty’ jobs to the govt and concentrate on who’s currently dating Deepika Padukone or Katrina Kaif. There still exists, in unimaginably large parts of our country, a poverty, a frustration, a helplessness, an utter hopelessness, that feeds on it’s self (read Arundhati Roy’s article in Outlook dtd March 29 2010, as well as many others she has written, and been roundly abused for). What are a people supposed to do when (just a few examples, I can never imagine the full horror of being them):
• They are summarily evicted from land which has housed them for centuries, because the govt has sold mining rights for the land to a corporation?
• They are brutalized by the govt machinery because they refused to obey arbitrary dictates?
• Their women – mothers, sisters, wives, daughters - are raped because of the same, or even because someone (either in authority or just someone rich) took a fancy to them?
• Their men – fathers, brothers, husbands, sons - are killed in ‘encounters’ because they were considered a burden to the country?
• Their houses are burnt because of the same?

At least we in the cities have this ‘mirage’ of justice (‘mirage’ because there really isn’t any). What do these people have? Who can they approach in order to tell their side of the story? Which court will give them justice? Which police can they go to in order to complain about the police itself? In Nandigram, I believe the only reason the people ‘won’ was because a major politician and a major political party decided to make them a plank for the next election. It also helped that the party and person in question had turned into an ally of the central govt. I cannot go into the rights and wrongs of the Tatas being evicted from West Bengal simply because I do not have full knowledge of the facts – what I hear is what the govt wants me to hear. Whether what happened was really for the good of the people, or whether they were mere pawns in a larger game plan, I’ll never know, and trust me, none of us ordinary mortals ever will.

In the tradition of the popular self-help books, here’s an exercise for those who believe that ‘Naxals/Maoists’ (call them what you may, your choice) are really our enemies and need to be exterminated. Picture this if you can (I suggest going into a deep meditation, eyes closed):

In an urban context, all this will be done to you and your family because say, a builder wants your apartment and you have stubbornly refused to vacate. Your tiny little daughter who until yesterday came running to greet you when came home from work every evening and wrapped her tiny little arms tightly around your neck, is gang-raped before your very eyes by man after khaki man until she mercifully dies or you acquiesce, whichever comes first, and this could just as easily be your wife or your sister; your tiny little son who you taught how to walk by holding his tiny unsure little fingers, is tortured in horribly inventive ways before your very eyes by man after khaki man until he mercifully dies or you acquiesce, whichever comes first. FEEL the pain – of the mother who holds her dying son in her lap and tries to cry but no tears emerge from her dry eyes because she hasn’t had a drop of water in two days (your water supply has been pissed into by the khakis), of the father who tries to hide the bleeding modesty of his dying little girl so that she can at least exit this life in dignity, of the family who watches in impotent silence when their house which they had built with sweat and blood is ransacked and torched, of the farmer who sees his crops set on fire, crops for the seeds of which he took a loan from the moneylender and on which he’d toiled under a merciless sun for six months. All this happens to you not because you’ve committed any crime but merely because ‘your’ govt has sold the land to the highest bidder and has ‘decided’ that your way of life is not the correct way, that you need to sacrifice your everything so that ‘India’ can progress.

NOW ask yourself – what do you think you will do? Do you think you could be ‘persuaded’ to pick up a gun now? Now do you think you could be ‘brainwashed’ into a mental state where you would want to destroy each and every symbol of the state? Do you think you would be able to retain the same pride in being Indian now? Now do you think you could ever look at the colour khaki and not want to decimate it in any manner possible?

It also amazes me no end that our govt (including our PM, one of the most civilized politicians in the country) is most ready when it comes to ‘talks’ with Pakistan, over Kashmir. Think about this super funny irony – we are willing to ‘talk’ with another country about a part of OUR territory – I mean, who the F*** are they anyway to be ‘talking’ with me about a part of MY country? Our govt however, is not willing to talk with our OWN people – and let’s not forget that we’d be talking with them about THEIR land. Govt agencies sometimes also call them ‘squatters’. I don’t understand this at all. These are tribes that have lived in these forests for hundreds if not thousands of years; they are as much part of the land as the forests themselves. They are the ‘adivasis’ or the ‘autochthons’ (Greek word for ‘from the earth/soil’) – Wikipedia and Wiktionary describe them as ‘the earliest inhabitants of an area, the aboriginals, indigenous peoples’. One fine day, iron ore or bauxite (I borrow from Ms Arundhati Roy) is discovered under these forests, and the people are ‘ordered’ to vacate ‘or else’. Pardon me if my question sounds immature, but just WHO are the ‘squatters’ here – us or them? Another study in contrast – this same govt machinery, the same politicians, babus, police – because they got a cut of the loot, allowed the bandit Veerappan (remember him?) a free run of 34 years! The govt asks the Naxals/Maoists to give up violence – why doesn’t the govt take the first step? How in the world can you declare war on your OWN citizens?

Hasn’t our much touted ‘democracy’ failed these lesser ‘citizens’? Today, you and I know/recognize democracy as the right to say/write whatever we want (of course, in Bombay as long as the Thackerays are okay with it), to read whatever we want, to vote/not vote during elections, to spit/urinate/defecate on the streets, to overspeed in our fancy cars, to take out wedding/victory/religious processions and hold up traffic for hours, to own property, to expect justice even if our fight is against the govt. What is the meaning of democracy to people who have never seen an electric bulb/fan, who do not know what a school is, do not know what a hospital looks like, what a glass of clean drinking water tastes like? What is the meaning of democracy to the ‘forgottens’?

In the context of the existing situation in our villages and tribal areas, I don’t think Kanu Sanyal could have had any other end. Remember the film Rang De Basanti? I have had many an argument with friends (who incidentally call me ‘jholawala’) about the end being too pessimistic – all the boys die – it was largely opined that the writer and director erred in ending the story thus. My opinion differed – there could have been NO other rational ending to that story. The boys (in the film) were up against the full might of a determinedly corrupt govt which had skeletons to hide – they had to be killed, there was no other way out; there was no way they could have won the grossly unequal battle and suicide would have been a copout.

Kanu Sanyal, likewise, had to be either killed, or he had to end it himself. There was no way he could win, and I guess, knowing that to be the only truth, knowing that the ‘system’ was too strong for mere mortals, he chose to end it himself.

Maybe we’d have paid more attention to Kanu Sanyal and his cause if he was named Che Guevara – just a thought. It is fashionable to have Che’s posters on the walls even though he had nothing to do with India, but a poster of Kanu Sanyal or any of his ilk would invite immediate arrest.

Get this - there are more than 400 Facebook pages on Che Guevara – just one of those pages has a ‘fan’ list of 350,000 (many Indians) – Kanu Sanyal has just ONE page – with a rich picking of NINE fans.

THE BITCH STILL LIVES !!

2009-12-19T14:05:00.004+05:30

WARNING
If you are squeamish about ‘strong’ language, exit right now. Else, don’t leave a comment on how vulgar my words are – understand that they are vulgar because I FEEL VULGAR. I FEEL…..RAPED.

All you ladies (and men, why not?) out there, think about this:

“You are taken by surprise in a dark, stiflingly still basement. A ‘man’ (?) comes up behind you, grabs you, and begins to tear off your clothes. You try and scream, fight. He’s come prepared – he wraps a dog chain around your neck and pulls it tight, real tight until your eyes begin to bulge out of their sockets. And tighter still until your voice can no longer escape your throat. Neither can air enter your lungs anymore.

While your lungs burn for air, he rips off what is left of your clothing. Here it gets tricky and we ‘men’ (?), as always, will need to be excused from part of the proceedings, except as perpetrators, or voyeurs. The ‘man’ (?) behind you discovers that you are menstruating and effectively ‘dirty’. Small change in his plans, minor shift in targeted entry point.

He then forces his now-rigid ‘male’ organ into your other hole – the one that your ‘God’ (?) never intended for two-way access. A new dimension is added to the pain, to the fire that is already searing your abused body. As your anus is stretched under the violent assault, its delicate membrane ruptures and blood starts to flow. The irony escapes the ‘man’ (?) behind you – at this point in the proceedings, both, your vagina and your anus are bleeding copiously.

By this time, your lungs have all but collapsed in agony, the blood vessels in your eyes have hemorrhaged, coagulated blood fills your unseeing eyes. Unseeing, because your brain has been deprived of oxygen so long that it has rebelled and excommunicated your eyes. However, in the mysterious manner of the wondrous laws of your ‘God’ (?), the nerves in your body which are responsible for transmitting pain still do their job. Very efficiently. They dutifully, indeed beautifully transmit the fire from each thrust into your rectum, each rupture of your anus, each scream from each cell of your burning lungs. May be some ‘raaz pichle janam ka’?

Meanwhile, the ‘man’ (?) behind you continues his assault, indeed increasing the power behind his brutal thrusts as he nears his long fantasized release. The end is so frenzied that it is impossible to understand which one is the animal on either end of the dog chain – are you the bitch, or is he the dog? In one final, violent thrust, he unloads his seed into your intestines. The colour Pink makes its ironic entry now – long known as the symbol of womanhood, Pink asserts it’s self when your ‘blood-red blood’ mixes with his white semen. His grip on the dog chain around your throat slackens. He hurriedly pulls up his pants, spits on your limp body, and runs out of the basement. But not before showing you what your real worth to society is – he takes your gold chain, watch, and money with him.

And you are alone again. But this time, you don’t know it. All you know is the pain, shooting up from every corner of your battered body, even from places you didn’t even know existed.”

This happened on 27th November 1973. 36 years ago. Read that again – THIRTY SIX YEARS – and counting. She’s still alive. Less as a human being, more as a vegetable.

Three more numbers, if you please:

(a)
5 (Five).

(b)
7 (Seven).

(c)
1,89,21,600 (One Crore, Eighty Nine Lakhs, Twenty One Thousand, Six Hundred).

Assuming that he was not an average Indian ‘male’ (?) and he did not ejaculate prematurely, the first number (a) is the assumed number of minutes that the Honourable Mr Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki spent on his pleasure that night – 5.

The second number (b) is the number of years that the Honourable Mr Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki spent in jail – 7.

The third number (c) is the number of minutes (only until the 27-11-2009 ‘anniversary’) that Aruna Shanbaug has spent in a hospital bed – 1,89,21,600.

The Honourable Mr Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki has since moved on in life – his whereabouts are a closely guarded secret, both by his family as well as by the establishment – everyone has human rights, you know. Rumour has it that he works in a Delhi hospital (will ironies never cease?) as a ward boy and under an alias.

Aruna has entered her 37th year at Bombay’s KEM hospital. She alternately laughs, screams, cries, gets violent…..is thus tied down to her bed most of the time. She cannot eat and is force fed a paste of her food, which by the way she cannot taste. Her eyes can see but her brain cannot register what is being seen – cortically blind is the medical term, I believe. Her skin has become like a parchment stretched onto a skeleton. It is said that she goes into uncontrollable bouts of screaming whenever she hears a ‘male’ (?) voice, even through a radio.

Look at Aruna’s picture. This was before the rape. Luckily for us, I could not find a picture of her in her present condition.

Luckily for the Honourable Mr Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki, the bastard’s picture is not to be found anywhere – he is living in our midst and we don’t know who he is.

What troubles me – I am a ‘man’ (?). I could do this to a woman, to another human being. Maybe I would?

Apologies to all.....

2008-12-31T14:33:00.000+05:30

Hi all,

To start off, I apologize to all of you. To those who read my last post, to those who responded, and to those who didn’t.

Why the apology?

Because I’m not going ahead with what I’d proposed – the Indian vote bank (killed, dead, buried, dug up, cremated).

In terms of response, my plan elicited next to nothing. At the risk of wounding my already bruised ego, I realize that I was wasting time. Maybe what the honourable Mr Naqvi suggested is true after all – that a few women wearing lipstick and powder and a few men wearing suits do NOT represent the country. We saw this truth being driven home by the election results – the party that presided over the carnage in Bombay was voted back to power in Delhi and brought out of the wilderness in Rajasthan. Don’t get me wrong – I do not hold a candle for the other parties. Just that, I felt the people would vote against a party that had failed to protect its citizens, time and again. This should have been especially true in Delhi simply because of the affinity Bombay and Delhi share, by dint of being two of the largest cities in India. And it’s not as though Delhi has not been affected by terrorism. It has, in the very recent past.

Lest I be mistaken to be a BJP advocate, I’d like to clear my name here as well, though it is a conviction I hold that among the present parties, I think the BJP is our best bet based on their past record on infrastructure development – it is a fact that they ushered in an era that reaped rich dividends; cases in point - the golden quadrilateral highway project, the Bombay-Pune Expressway. In this context, they did in 5 years what the Congress failed to do in 50. Also, I think the BJP has a lot more nationalists than any other party, especially the Congress which has only Gandhians, and I don’t refer to the Mahatma here. What then equates the BJP with all the others?
· Dirty Games 1 – remember Tehelka and what happened to it? For years together we heard about how the Congress and the Gandhis made the CBI and IB their lapdogs, that they had no respect for the rule of Law where the netas were concerned. When Tehelka ran the sting operation on the BJP, the party did exactly the same thing. In fact, what happened to Tehelka and their promoters was eerily reminiscent of what Indira Gandhi had done with Indian Express and Arun Shourie. And the clincher for me – Mr Vajpayee was the PM, someone who was considered as one of the most liberal politicians in the country even by his opponents. All that much-proclaimed ‘difference’ went out the window, proving that beneath the khadi exteriors, they’re all made essentially of the same skin.
· Dirty Games 2 – remember Gujarat? I expect a whole lot of hate mails/comments on this, but here it is anyway. I’m sick and tired of hearing (yes, even from supposedly educated upper-crust friends) that it was a reaction to the train-burning incident in Godhra and that no-one talks about that. My dear, dear friends - the Godhra incident was perpetrated by criminals, period – catch them, hang them from the nearest lamp-posts. What happened in Gujarat thereafter was perpetrated by a government. There’s a difference between the two. I really don’t care about a party’s political beliefs – once it is in government, their responsibility towards the party ceases and their sole responsibility gravitates towards the people whom they govern, regardless of who voted for them. Once the BJP was in government, they ceased to be BJP, they were then the Govt of Gujarat, and that’s got to mean something. The security of each and every citizen of the state was/is their responsibility, and they failed to fulfil their responsibility. And it didn’t stop there – by all accounts, the so-called government was actively involved in the killing and pillage of its OWN people. We could argue forever about nothing having been proved, but that’s an argument for the birds, I would not want to get into it since we all know what the inquiry commissions are all about. Whether or not a govt accepts a committee or commission’s findings, is directly related to the convenience of the findings. And, surprise surprise – the BJP is not alone in this. What happened to the Sikhs in Delhi in 1984 is well known. And the greatest proof of all the netas being of the same pod, I feel, is what the Congress did about the Justice Shrikrishna Committee which submitted its report on the Bombay riots of 1992-93 – it’s quite reasonable to assume that all these guys get together in the evenings to laugh at OUR stupidity over a drink or two. So much for the ‘difference’.

Also, I realized (with inputs from a lot of you) that what I was doing by harping on the Pakistan angle so much (the main plank of my was-to-be website) was, being the proverbial ostrich, burying my head in the ground and ignoring reality – that WE must set OUR house in order first. In a country where you can get a driving license without being able to recognize the difference between clutch and brake, where you can get a graduation certificate without ever reading a single book, where you can get a ration card without being a citizen of the country, where you can hold multiple passports for a price – are we really surprised that any tom, dick, or jehadi harry can waltz in and use us for target practice? Isn’t it time to point fingers at ourselves instead of all around?

To make a long story short, I too had fleetingly joined the ranks of the myriad citizens who find that there’s no-one to vote for.

Happily, I can’t stay cynical for too long. I have recently been introduced to a new political party – the PROFESSIONALS PARTY OF INDIA or the PPI (www.ppi.net.in). They’re a group of educated citizens who decided to put their time and money where our mouths are and DO something. Their mantra is ‘CHANGE FOM THE TOP’ and tagline is ‘ACTION FOR CHANGE’. They’re fielding candidates for the 2009 Lok Sabha elections. To all the naysayers who would choose to express doubts over their absence of a track record - I’d urge you to have a look at the track records of the existing bunch. Come on now, you can’t convince me that a new, relatively young, educated, already successful group of Indians - who are (for a change) NOT asking for votes on the basis of religion, language, caste or community – can do any worse than our present lot!!

In abject apology, but still hopeful,
Bharatram Gaba
Bombay

AAMIR KHAN speaks.....

2008-12-10T16:19:00.000+05:30

AAMIR KHAN, one of India's most respected film personalities, speaks.....

I think the first lesson to learn from this is that we MUST NOT NEGOTIATE. No matter what, the next time round around, and lets not fool ourselves we must be alert and prepared for more attacks, we MUST NOT NEGOTIATE. All potential terrorists must get a very clear message that INDIA DOES NOT NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS. What that means is, that in the future if there is a situation where me or my kids are held hostage by a bunch of terrorists then I must be prepared to tell our government - to hell with me and my children just go in there and kill the terrorists. I am prepared to sacrifice myself and my loved ones for the larger safety and security of the country but DO NOT LISTEN TO AND NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS.

I personally hold both these political parties, and in fact other regional political parties across the country, responsible in one way or the other, for fueling terrorism in the first place. And please remember that the definition of terrorism is not restricted to AK 47 toting maniacs. It includes the spread of terror by other means like stone throwing, beating up of innocent people on the roads, and rioting, etc. Any means, in fact, to spread terror in the hearts of ordinary citizens.

The other important thing we need to remind ourselves in this time of anger and hurt is to stay calm and take sensible steps, and not give in to thoughtless knee jerk reactions. I heard someone say on television that we should all stop paying our taxes as a show of protest. Haven’t heard of a more silly idea than that. If we stop paying our taxes then we won’t have an army and NSG to save us next time around!!! Instead we should all START PAYING OUR TAXES. We demand so much of our leaders but are we fulfilling our basic responsibility? Can we say with honesty that as citizens of our country we are all honestly paying our taxes? If we are not paying our taxes can we blame the government for being inefficient? If we are corrupt then how can we expect our politicians to be honest?

I have a very important thing to say to all the various people going around arbitrarily throwing accusations at the politicians. These politicians are not from Jupiter or Mars, they are one of us, from our very own society, selected by us through a democratic process. So now think for a moment, who really is to blame? We can only blame ourselves guys. Half of us don’t go to vote. The half that does vote has selected these guys.

In my opinion, you really want to change things? Change yourself. Each one of us needs to take a very honest look inwards and rectify and work on what we think is wrong with us. If each one of us does that individually then there will be a sea change in our society at large. I have to promise myself that I will not be corrupt, will play my role in society with honesty and sincerity. Doctors, lawyers, judges, people in the IAS, police force, media persons, businessmen, job workers, labour force, everyone. We have to stop thinking of our own individual gain and loss and do what is honest, true and right, and think collective. It calls for personal sacrifice in this time of chaos but from chaos will emerge clarity. Even if we don’t manage to achieve this for ourselves we will achieve it for our children.

Source - www.aamirkhan.com

M.J.Akbar speaks....from the heart....

2008-12-09T12:40:00.003+05:30

M J Akbar is one of India's best-known journalists and commentators, someone with a deep insight into the Indian people and their mindset. In this first-person, as-told-to piece, Akbar discusses the Mumbai attacks and their relevance for India.

Many people forget that India is a tough nation. Toothless leaders have turned India into a soft nation. People forget that India has fought back Muslim terrorism in Kashmir; Sikh terrorism in Punjab, Christian terrorism in Nagaland and Hindu terrorism in Assam, and amongst the Naxalites. We have had everything thrown at the Indian nation State. Still, we have stood up. The people of India have shown the courage and ability to believe in their nation and to fight back. But the completely impotent leadership of five years have turned a tough country into a soft State. I am very sad. I keep feeling that if they protect India as they protect their leaders -- whether it is Prime Minister Manmohan Singh or Congress President Sonia Gandhi -- I think I would be safe. Today, India's leaders are safe and India is in panic.

On what India's response should be:
India's proper reaction would be possible if we understand the extent of the disease.If the disease is cancer, you can't apply band aid. After making a complete mess of security issues for five years by asking Shivraj Patil to go finally we may have a home minister who doesn't comb his hair and change his clothes. But we want something more than that. If it is cancer, we need chemotherapy, a much more serious exercise. It needs a legislative and executive framework. It needs political mobilisation. People are numbed. The Indian people have no leadership. You have a prime minister. Did you see him when he addressed the nation? Nobody knew if he was addressing the nation or having a cup of tea?He looked serious, but he didn't talk to us about our anger and about our anguish. I think this administration is tone deaf to the anguish of the people. They just cannot understand what the people are going through. They just don't understand our pain or our anger. The most important thing is that, perhaps, we have politicised not only the instruments of the State like the police but we have also politicised the understanding of the nature of the problem. I think the very first thing to do is to ensure security so that it prevents the next attack. If any attack takes place under someones job should go. Don't come to me with alibis.

On the terrorists getting local support:
I am an Indian Muslim and I am very proud of both, being an Indian and a Muslim. I do not see any contradictions. This is my land and I have nowhere else to go.But can I say because I am an Indian Muslim that no Indian Muslim is involved? Can you, because you are a Hindu, say that no Hindu is involved? We have to behave like Indians first. Not as a Muslim or as a Hindu first. Because we need Hindu votes and Muslim votes and because this government thinks that it needs Muslim votes so it has been in complete denial.Do you think that these people came across from Pakistan and had no support in Mumbai?It is not possible. It was a huge operation. Ten people hit nine places and you killed nine of them. You want to say that they went from place to place? Who knows some of them must have slipped away to create new sleeper cells to hit us six months later.They are hiding things. I would like to believe that there was an underworld connection. Because, Karachi and Mumbai are also linked by drug smuggling. The culture of criminals is aggression. It comes naturally to them. It is not easy for you and I to become aggressive, however angry we are. It does not come naturally to us. These are people who are trained psychologically in aggression. They have no respect for the State. They have no love for the country. And they have no respect for authority. Why? Because the only face of authority is the corrupt policeman. The criminal gives money in the morning and money in the evening. Why should he have respect for somebody he gives bribes to? For the guy from the underworld his understanding of the Indian State and authority is corruption. He has no patriotism to stop him. Why would he not join hands with the terrorists? In any case, he belongs to another world. We have not even begun to address and discuss this.

On the Pakistan factor:
I am tired of giving Pakistan a long rope on some excuse or the other. Everybody is saying this will happen if we do this, that will happen if we do this. Our relations with Pakistan will go, then, let them go. What has our relations with Pakistan brought us except violence and terror? Why should we be in charge of saving Pakistan? For what? Every time they turn around and they say they want evidence. Now, finally we have evidence.I have been an editor for 35 years from the age of 23. From that time on, since the days of General Zia-ul Haq, I have been hearing 'Pakistan is asking for evidence'. We asked for withdrawal of their support to the movement for Khalistan, they said, 'Oh, we don't know anything about it.' On Kashmir, they kept repeating where is the evidence. Benazir Bhutto came, she asked for evidence. Nawaz Sharif came, he asked for evidence. I think Pervez Musharraf asked for less evidence. Now again, they are asking for evidence. There is a terrorist in Mumbai, captured and arrested. How much more evidence do you want? If what he is saying is not evidence, then how can you get more evidence?This government is in its 11th hour. Now they will bluff the people to protect their votes. There is no time left for them. The agony of departure will be hard from this government.

On the reaction in the West:
The US and Britain have a vested interest in telling India to look within. Why? When Americans die then they can send their air force 7,000 miles and bomb every country to smithereens. But when Indians die, they tell us no, no, you must be patient. You must act like a swami and a yogi. Why? Is an American life more precious than an Indian life? Why should we keep listening to them? But we have a government that keeps listening to them all the time. We don't get tough.The last time we got tough was after the attack on Parliament. We took some tough actions under Operation Parakram and then there was a certain lull. Three years ago, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh was able to tell President George W Bush that there are no terrorists amongst Indian Muslims. That means that lull continued.Pakistan must be made to realise that it will have to pay a heavy price. Not necessarily through war, but a heavy price will have to be paid in loss in trade, in cancellation of orders and other engagements. They should pay a heavy price in terms of people to people relations. I am not saying you can freeze a relationship to death, but the message must go out that if there is a crime there will be a penalty. You just can't get away with it. Let the Pakistan government cooperate with us. But look at how the Pakistan government has buckled down and we are sitting here whimpering.They want to send some lowly officers to India. For what? Even Pakistan is treating the Manmohan Singh and Sonia Gandhi government with total contempt. They know how weak it is.

Delink Hindu-Muslim relations and Pakistan:
Look, you must not confuse the Pakistan issue with the Indian Muslims issue. Their so-called alienation or their economic deprivation is not linked to the issue of Pakistan.Indian Muslims have nothing to do with Pakistan. They have absolutely no sympathy for Pakistan. They know that Pakistan was the biggest mistake committed in the history of Indian Muslims. They know it. You can ask anyone in Baroda, Bihar or Mumbai. They know how they are suffering the backlash of all the consequences of cross-border terrorism. Today, they fear retribution from the government, they fear retribution from popular disenchantment and anger. They feel helpless. They feel afraid.We must understand finally that it is not so much the 'local people', it is the local underworld that is involved in anti-India activities. In 1993, who were involved in terrorism? The underworld. Why have you not done anything about it? The State turns a blind eye to the police and corruption. I don't know how many readers smoke hashish and other stuff, but I am accusing them of cross-border terrorism. Drugs come to India from Afghanistan via Karachi.

What we can do as individuals:
If whoever is responsible for protecting the nation fails, then he or she should not be allowed to continue in power. That is the toughest and sharpest message we can give. You can tell that you may be a soft State, but we are a hard people and we are hard voters.We are not going to forgive you for your lies and deception and for your waffling. How many blasts do we need to understand that? When Jaipur, Ahmedabad, Mumbai and Delhi happened no one who was genuinely guilty was caught.We have to understand now that corruption has eaten away vitals of this nation. It is the biggest danger to the security of India. It is not just the case of some spectrum being sold to someone by some minister in. Everyone who is corrupt get out!It Is a failure all around. We have to be extremely practical and pragmatic. There is great deal to be depressed about as an Indian. Frankly speaking, I feel very angry and upset. I am never upset by the behaviour of our enemies. I am only upset by the betrayal of those I trust.

M J Akbar, editor, Covert magazine, spoke to Sheela Bhatt

Enough breast-beating, let's talk SOLUTIONS

2008-12-04T13:09:00.003+05:30

Enough breast-beating - let’s talk solutions.

My suggestions:

(1)

I don’t want war with Pakistan or Bangladesh. I don’t even want peace with Pakistan or Bangladesh. I want NOTHING to do with Pakistan or Bangladesh. Break of ALL RELATIONS - social, diplomatic, economic, rail, road, air. Cut off ALL contact, telephone lines, post & courier, television, radio, internet & email. Close ourembassy/consulate in Pakistan/Bangladesh and throw their’s out from India as well. No visas to be issued to any Pakistanis/Bangladeshis, no Indians to go toPakistan/Bangladesh. Hereafter, treat any communication with Pakistan/Bangladesh as TREASON, punishable by death. Pakistani/Bangladeshi artists & sportspersons in India to be given 24 hours to decide whether they want to stay here or go back, a one-time amnesty - if they want to stay, they have to give up their Pakistani/Bangladeshi citizenship and accept Indian citizenship in return, knowing fully well that they will not be allowed any contact hereafter. TWENTY FOUR HOURS. Seal our borders such that not even a dog (or neta) is able to get across, by land, sea or air, this way or that.

(2)

Police force to be brought up to the level of our armed forces - in arms, modernization, payscales, housing facilities, childrens’ education facilities. Politicians to no longer have control over the police force in terms of appointments, promotions, transfers. Bureaucrats to have no control over supplies to any of these forces. A body of the best and brightest of retired defence and police personnel to oversee the forces with NO interference from either the neta or the babu - a Security Council with a maximum tenure of two years. Three of the best of the country’s auditors to audit their accounts and submit their observations to the Supreme Court for perusal. Accounts to be made public after a period of one year, particularly those relating to procurement. Likely or suspected irregularities to be probed by the SupremeCourt and prosecution/punishment be initiated against the guilty regardless of whether they still serve at the time. Reservations on the basis of religion or caste to be phased out of any of these forces within a period of 4 years.

(3)

Security cover to politicians and bureaucrats to be decided by above Security Council - whether or not it is required, and what level is deserved. A full stop to all unnecessary expenditures for the netas & babus, eg. new cars, servants, foreign jaunts, huge bungalows.

(4)

Bureaucracy to be ruthlessly removed from the citizens’ daily lives, except where absolutely necessary (there are more people today going after the poor roadside vendor than after Dawood’s people). Remove ALL taxes including income tax, excise, octroi, professional tax, wealth tax etc. and resort to a SINGLE VAT of 20%, no more concessions, limits, deductions etc. - EVERYONE who buys anything or avails of a service, pays this tax - only food items, medicines, doctors, schools, colleges, to be fully exempt.

Neta poem

2008-12-02T12:07:00.001+05:30

KAR-KARE, neta kuch NA kare,
SALAS-KAR, neta tu kuch NA kar,
KAM-THE, neta kuch kaam ke NA the.

in impotent protest,
Bharatram Gaba
Bombay

THANK YOU

2008-11-29T12:29:00.000+05:30

THANK YOU, too all those angels in uniform who saved our city.
THANK YOU, to the families of the angels who gave up their lives us to save our's.
THANK YOU, to the angels who risked their lives not caring whether they were Marathis or otherwise.
THANK YOU, to all the media people who stayed put under the most dangerous circumstances.
THANK YOU, to all the netas who reminded us that we don't matter.
THANK YOU.

And then came the vultures.....

2008-11-27T22:44:00.001+05:30

At the outset, pardon my French. I mean every word of it.

What is the difference between politicians and vultures?
(answer at the end)

As I sit to write this blog, I have this inescapable feeling, nay, knowledge that blogs like these, articles and write-ups from thousands of other humans will matter not a wee bit.

125 human beings – that’s ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE MOTHERS, DAUGHTERS, SISTERS, FATHERS, SONS, BROTHERS – 125 human beings have so far lost their lives in the latest terror attack on Bombay.

I just saw our khadi-clad bastards on TV and they was saying: “This is a dastardly and cowardly attack on India’s secular fabric. We will deal with it firmly. We will take up the matter very strongly with our neighbours.”

Our bastards after last time’s train bombs: “This is a dastardly and…..”
After the Ahmedabad bombs: “This is a dastardly and…..”
After Delhi, Bangalore, Assam: “This is a dastardly and…..”

Tomorrow morning, we’ll see the assorted thieves-in-arms say that “no matter what the terrorists try to do, they can never kill the spirit of Bombay!” Except, they’ll call it Mumbai.

One or all of our illegitimate daamaads will get in on the action in a few days and ask for an inquiry into the police/army/NSG action against the terrorists – “Was too much force used?” - they will ask. “What was the need for the police to shoot?” – they will astoundingly ask!

The families of Mr Hemant Karkare, Mr Salaskar, Mr Kamthe, along with the families of the other policemen killed, will be given an ex-gratia payment of a few lakhs, which will be handed over by a minister at a public ceremony, while looking into the cameras. Thereafter, the families will be forgotten and will spend the rest of their lives running from pillar to post and bribing their erstwhile colleagues to get their promised jobs or petrol pumps or school/college admissions or an appointment with the mantri. Unless they can be used at the next election.

The policy of ‘highest posting for the highest bidder’ in the police and other bureaucracy will continue as-was, merit be damned. The best and brightest of the forces will, naturally, be allotted to the netas’s security, yes, even two-bit ones. No matter who wins the next election, they will accord each other all manner of increased security cover ranging from A to Z and continue the obscenity of having a hundred men guard one person of their’s, and having one person guard a hundred thousand of our’s.

Debates will continue in parliament on the necessity of giving a dozen eggs to soldiers as part of their ration, or, whether it is necessary for policemen to get the latest bullet-proof jackets, while proposals to change the MP’s/MLA’s cars to Honda City’s will be passed without discussion, except possibly about the trim levels of the cars.

WE, THE PEOPLE.

We will forget the events of last night as soon as either the next killings happen, or Shahrukh Khan’s or Akshay Kumar’s next movies release, whichever comes first.

WE, THE PEOPLE.

We will go back to voting for our religion, our caste, our neta. The fact that he has done nothing for anyone except himself will cease to matter – it never has – “At least he’s from our community!” – we will say.

WE, THE PEOPLE.

We will turn our anger towards easier, more visible targets, example the bhaiyyas or the muslims or the christians or the hindus, anyone who can be identified and attacked – the assorted Thackerays and Yadavs and Singhs will thrive once again.

WE, THE FUCKING PEOPLE!!!!

We will live like rats, and we will die like rats, ‘cos that’s we’ve become.

Oh yes, to answer the question I posed at the beginning.

(Our netas have started coming into Bombay (in separate aircraft, mind you – we are encouraged to use public transport) to get into the action with photo-ops at the hospitals, pulling away even more policemen from the crime scenes.)

The answer – A vulture will not touch flesh that is still warm.

THAT, my dear fellow impotents, is the difference between a neta and a vulture.

KICK-ASS WEBSITE, JUST HAD TO SHARE!!!!!

2008-08-09T14:46:00.003+05:30

How many times have we wanted to locate a restaurant we’ve heard of, or a hotel in a city we’re gonna travel to, or a plumber in our locality, or even an ambulance service, but didn’t know who to ask, where to start looking?

www.justdial.com

A website that kicks serious butt.

6999 99 99

A FREE, LOCAL telephone number – another avatar of ‘69’ that I like!!

JustDial’s free telephone service and their website www.justdial.com is absolutely the last word for local searches in over 200 cities in India. Been using it for the last few months and thought I should let my friends know about it. Businesses, emergency services, restaurants, hotels, plumbers, carpenters, tailors……you name it, they’ve got it.

Heck, it’ll even get you THE BEST DEALS on televisions or cars or stereos or anything you wanna buy. And whole sections devoted to restaurants – eatout.justdial.com, hotels – hotels.justdial.com, and movies – movies.justdial.com.

Boley to…..JHAKAAAAAAAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How to Kill your Family

2006-10-25T14:19:00.000+05:30

It has taken great effort for me to start writing this. My brain kept debating with my heart as to whether I was doing the right thing. The reason was not so much my aversion to washing dirty linen in public as the fact that these are emotions I have never before confronted in my life. There was a very genuine fear that I may not be strong enough to see this piece through…..that I may chicken out. If you are reading this, it means that I have been victorious in this battle.

I got married rather early. I was all of twenty-five, and so was she. Our first son was born on our first wedding anniversary. Quite frankly, I wasn’t ready for it, but after a few initial hiccups, I guess I began to cope. Our second son was born in the fourth year of our marriage. It was much better this time around. Married life had mellowed me down and I had become in the true sense, a father. It was a pretty idyllic situation. Eight months later, we moved into our own little apartment and coming home acquired a new meaning with the two brats jumping all around. For the first time in my life, I actually looked forward to the kicks I got in the groin on a fairly regular basis. Nothing on earth could have prepared me or for that matter my wife and children for what lay ahead. Events were to unfold that would ultimately change the course of our lives forever.

A little bit about myself. I had a very protected childhood. Materially, I’ve never had cause to complain. If I did lack anything it was exposure, to people, to the world. This caused an unhealthy concentration of my affections on just two persons. Without naming anyone, these two people were the world to me. Everything I did, everything I dreamed of, everything I ever wanted to be revolved around them. I have never believed in the existence of a God, but these persons came pretty close. In the most complete sense of the word, they were my Idols. One of them, I could admire only from a distance. My vision proved too inadequate to reach the lofty ideals he’d represented in my small world. The other was the Rock on which the entire edifice that was me, stood. This Rock had been my support for so long, I had forgotten that one must someday learn to stand on one’s own.

But how was I to know that he who I’d considered a Rock for so long was after all, a human being? And like all human beings, he too had his weaknesses? Thirty years of seeing through his eyes had tinted my vision to such an extent that the entire world on the other side of the glass seemed to be coloured black, while everything on this side was bathed in white. Never had it occurred to me that the glasses I wore might be at fault. That they might be too darkly tinted. So dark that I’d been blinded to the fact that the world had no Black, and it had no White. All it had were shades of Grey. I implore everyone out there – you have been born with a brain, use it; you have been born with eyes and ears, use them. Learn your lessons early, and learn them well. ‘Cos if you don’t, life has a way of teaching you those lessons and trust me, life is at once, the greatest as well as the most unforgiving teacher. I neglected learning my lessons as long as I could, and when life decided to teach me my lesson, it did so the hard way. One wretched unannounced day, the Rock on which I’d leaned on for so long, shook.

I was to learn much later that what I lapsed into at the time is technically called a depression. Well, whatever it’s called “technically”, it was bad. I completely lost the will to live. But that was not all. I lost my children’s trust. This was two years ago but I still wake up in the dead of night when my children’s eyes flash behind my closed ones. Their eyes had once had that unconditional trust in them which only children can manage. That was until their father changed beyond recognition. They couldn’t comprehend why their father had suddenly started drinking so much. They couldn’t comprehend why their father had started snapping at them. And this was no ordinary snapping. It was the works. Wild, rabid dog snapping. The man who brought chocolates for them every day, now brought home nothing but abuses. Children who had never heard their father raise his voice now had to face the spectacle of a man who was either quiet or screaming at the top of his voice.

They’d had so many laughing sessions together, the kids and their father. One out of the three of them would crack a silly little joke on their mother (his wife) and all three would double up laughing their heads off as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Sometimes they laughed so hard they ended up crying. Now, they didn’t have to laugh to do that.

In the beginning, the children did make attempts to make their father feel better. They would come into his darkened room where he usually sat with his face as long as a road-rolled goat’s, and try and cosy up to him. They’d lie down next to him and run innocent fingers through his hair. He’d slap their hands away. They’d come close and put their guileless heads in his lap. He’d get up and walk away. They stopped coming. They literally grew away from their father. Overnight, the house they had come to call home had turned from a bright happy place into a dark dreary dungeon. They couldn’t speak loudly in the house, they couldn’t laugh loudly, they couldn’t play.

Children are supposed to learn about the good things in life from their father, about the virtues of patience, of love, of family. My children learned to snap. Even so, my ignorance was so complete that I totally failed to recognize the change in their eyes. Where there used to be nothing but admiration, there now was fear. The eyes that looked up to me once upon a time, now deliberately avoided me. Yes, I lost a lot more. I lost their childhood.
Their mother, my considerable wife. If there can be debts between husband and wife, I do not know how I am going to repay her’s. One lifetime would be too short to even begin. I do not know what Hell will be like, but what she went through in those two years should come pretty close.

Consider this – in the space of a single night, a person who you’ve lived with for six years and loved for all of thirteen, mutates into someone you don’t seem to recognize. I still remember those infinite eyes staring at me in disbelief when I’d snapped at her the first time. There was a time when I’d have killed myself before bringing tears into those eyes. Now, those very eyes cried all night, night after long night, and they didn’t seem to kill me anymore than bullets would kill a corpse. That’s what I’d probably become, a corpse.

How else can I explain it? When the woman you’ve won after a seven year long trial-by-fire lies by your side sobbing, only a corpse would not reach over and draw her close. I did not. When the woman you’ve shared everything with silently wastes away her life in a prison of your making, only a corpse would not make an attempt to break the bars. I did not. When the mother of your children suddenly develops dark circles under her eyes, only a corpse would not realize that it is nothing but an extension of the darkness he's caused. I did not. Yes, I lost a lot more. I lost my woman.

It was two years before I started to recognize the need to do something about it. As usual, it was the considerable wife who came to my aid. She fixed me up with a nutcracker (psychiatrist). It took time, but my woman was not about to give up. There were innumerable relapses on my part in the form of violent refusals to go to the good doctor, but my woman had decided that it was time she took the short ‘n’ curlys in her own hands. There were times when she physically pulled me out of the house and drove me to the doctor. Overnight she changed from a Mother Teresa into a Phoolan Devi with a Parsi accent. A couple of months of medication along with some invaluable counseling got my derailed bogies back on track again. If I were not so worried that my wig might come off with it, I’d take my hat off to her. I do not think I would have the strength or the patience to do what she did, were she to go through what I did. I do not know if it has to do with a woman’s famed strength or a man’s rotten upbringing. If you’re reading this, Thank You, considerable wife.

I’m much better now. Still on medication, but I don’t care. I’ve decided to leave this place and go away as far as I possibly can with my family. Maybe I’m running away from myself, but if it helps me to be a better husband and a better father, I’ll run as fast as I can. And Heaven knows I have a lot of running to do. Just this morning, instead of going to work, I took my little one to a garden and just sat there and watched him play. If I’d ever have believed in a God, this is how He would have looked. The sun glinting off his vibrant hair, cheeks turning rosy red, smile stretching from ear to little ear, untrained hands pulling up the pants that refused to stay on that tiny behind........yup, this is how He would have looked. It was again the eyes that gave him away. Endlessly mischievous when playing, they suddenly seemed to age when they turned towards me.

All at once, the gap I thought was narrowing, seemed to widen into a never-ending abyss. Between me and the family I killed. An abyss that I created.