News, Mis-news and the in between

Coutesy:The Times Of India

Kejriwal's 'loose motions' tweet-note might not be a one-off phenomenon. We Indians, as a rule, do not refrain from over-sharing our bowel movements, anecdotes or otherwise. In fact it's one of the favorite topics at the Chai-stall charchas that's such a rage presently.

 

 Janardan Dwivedi belied such stirrings within when he squared off on the Goliath issue of caste-based reservations. It remains to be seen if he will be championing the cause of the eponymous 'strong congress' or whether it was just lip service, allowing the High Command to score some brownie points, opposing the statement of the senior congress leader. For his part, Mr. JD attributed his sudden loquaciousness to Junior G's call to party workers for inputs to the manifesto. It couldn't have come at the better time for the party mascot. At a time when he was called the John Abraham of politics, sans the fainting girls. However, this shortcoming might be short-lived, since those of the 'Yuva Josh' cadre are already climbing the national ranks.

All roads lead to the capital. Duncan Fletcher was seen shuffling along Tilak Lane early one morning, with the man whom many hail as the muffler revivalist. Apparently, the Ex-Delhi Government had hired Mr. Fletcher in a consultant capacity. Fletcher's skills appears to have worked, with the cricket team's poor form rubbing off on the 49-out Govt. Mr. Fletcher, reticent as ever, declined to take credit.

At the other end of the self-aggrandizement spectrum, NaMo - compensating for the 2002 amnesia episode - is seen claiming the credit for everything under the universal suns. Apart from being the source of insomnia for Pakistan and flying 15,000 Guajarati's out of Uttarakhand, his repertoire includes rewriting history, muddling geography, singing, dancing and defeating a thousand mustachioed goons with his left hand, all this before breakfast. He is rumored to have walked off the sets of "How To Lose Friends & Alienate People"- a native remake, being the method actor he is. The ultimate one man (read bachelor) army, also dishes out advice on his bittersweet Gujarat modeled Karele ki Kadhi recipe in his spare time. One hopes the recipe includes an addendum on improving HRD indices.

Speaking of expert advice, Adv. Ani Ji has repaired unto his erstwhile role of amicus curiae for the court of Modification, while warning the courtiers against overconfidence. Unfortunately, the advice was ill-timed, drowned out by the celebratory din over John Ab.. oops, Rahul Gandhi's latest interview, in which he showcased an indigenous photo montage titled 'My Trinity Days'. The atmosphere sobered up a tad when the Eligible Bachelor unveiled plans for a 'Singles Against Corruption Club'. Current members include a Behenji - who is looking to up the ante amidst the free-for-all confusion  -  and a Southern Belle -  who is noisily emerging as the kingmaker, private ambitions aside - while Mr. L.P. Yadav's membership was turned down on account of a resource crunch. Sources say he may reapply after the Fool's Month.

The Singles Club may have to make way for the new power couple in town. Anna & Didi, rumored to have met at a White Fabrics convention, are set to take the House by storm. Salivating experts believe that, between Mamata's eccentric leadership and Anna's motivational weight loss drives, they have what it takes to capture the ever elusive Page 3-cum-Third Front image.

'Never leave a task unfinished'. This was the oft repeated advice of my barber, MR. Telu Dhan Pyarelal. I imagine Mr. TDP must be very cross with the current Lok Sabha performance. I can almost hear him mutter 'lack of deliberate governance' under his breath as he sizes up my sideburns. And he's quite accurate too. His patrons always leave the shop with the most symmetrical of sideburns. And as for me, I'm off to devour some Wendy Doniger by candlelight under the LS enforced blackout.

Sunrise

The hands run late on the clock
'tis the hour of the dead walk
n'vermind the things that were
the time is now to spin the blur

The laurels to put to rest,
discard that dull, stained crest
put down the beholden crown
now's the time to swim or drown

New horizons to catch the sun
new heights to touch and run
the hands run late on the clock
'tis the hour of the new walk

Hullabaloo over the death of a Terrorist

“The Terrorist is dead, Long Live The Terrorist”

There are those who will stone me for the above. I don’t mean to address them. They will run out of stones.

There are those who will dodge past its face value and nod internally. I hope to meet you soon.

Then there are those who will turn the page before the end of the sentence. Let me hold your attention. Let me grab it by its short ears, tie it to a chair and force open its tiny eyes.

Before the eyebrow furrow, let me elucidate that this is not a rant against capital punishment. 

The accused was captured. The accused was paraded in and out of courtrooms for over 1000 days. The accused was found guilty. The accused was sentenced. The sentence was carried out in secrecy.

Before the eyebrows get lost in the hairline, this is not a rant against The Justice System.

Allow me to ride the wave of ‘popular’ opinion. Allow me to say ‘Justice’ was served. Served past dinnertime perhaps, but served it was.

And oh boy! DID we rejoice! We cried far and wide of Victory and Justice. We flooded the airwaves and bandwidths with pats on the back. We congratulated ourselves and our elected representatives on a job well done!!

Let me tempt your brows no further.

My rant is a little oblique. It's this circus of confused 'patriotism' that's really getting my goat. The translation of a democratic process into some mangled sense of moral victory. The misconstrued idea that THIS is leading to an End. That Change has arrived and has no travel plans.

But mostly it's the undignified gloating of a schoolyard bully.

Many might argue its relief, not gloating. Relief for those directly affected. Some turmeric for the long suffering. I humbly secede. I cannot assume to take anything away from their moment.

The pen does not seek to confer sainthood upon the (dead terrorist /condemned?), he’s received his comeuppance. It implores the readers to break forth from this cirque de madness and into saner pastures. It pleads the question, should we be broadcasting our exultance over the end of life, regardless of the circumstances precipitating it, with such baseness?

Celebrate Life, not death. Keep death hush-hush, under wraps. Sweep it under the carpet. Let it fade into legend and folklore. Let it be one of those myths that we can't be sure we truly buy into, but we prefer it that way.

When did sensationalism become the norm? When did we to stray so far from the path that we no longer pause to weigh what merits the carriage of our thoughts, the hotness of our breath and what is unworthy of such wreaths.

Celebrate Life. Let death be one of them stories we whisper to kids at night with a blanket over our heads and a torch on our face. And watch their eyes widen with awe.

Death is the great leveler. All the great texts, The Bible, The Bhagvad Gita, and The Quran preach “Forgive and Forget”. Or do the dead have no claim over the scriptures?

Celebrate Life. Let death neither mar nor glorify it. Don't let it dilute the Now. Let not its imminence distract.

“Man's greatness lies in his power of thought.” – Blaise Pascal

It has been quite a log hop since our ancestors crawled out of the sea and grew legs. We have achieved great things in that time. But unless we break away from this slide of thought, trim this rot of mind, reach out of this quicksand of rehashed conformism, we have but just a juvenile ‘dibs’ on pretense greatness.

Celebrate Life. Let us choose to rejoice over the death of Terrorism, when that happens. And not over the dead body of man who was a terrorist.

Until then, read a good book.

First Published here