India - The tour of Mr Obama

Title of this post should be "Mr Obama - The tour of India". At least that was what Indian media seemed to have established.

Obamania gripped terror-struck Mumbai.

Media talked non-stop about his visit from publishing pictures of Air Force One on Mumbai skies to landing to receiving the presidential brigade. All with running commentary. Thanks to internet and jobless journalists.

Once landed President Obama's charisma indeed won the hearts of billions. We should thank him. His visit created a chance to know about the families of those who lost their lives on 26/11. The extent of which could be seen in dedicated articles on family members who shook hands with him, who are otherwise invisible to the eyes of alert journalists. Sad to note that neither Indian politicians nor media got them to limelight. It is understandable. Politicians were busy planning their corruption tactics for the next scandal and media were busy with their next season of Bigg Boss. What a shame?

Had President Obama stayed a bit longer, the pronoun that represents him would have been capitalized despite where it appears in the sentence.

India celebrated PM Cameron more than President Obama. Mainly because the PM didn't possess diplomacy. He was very casual. He was also the first British premier to openly seek help from India. Kashmir and her problem creators were a major part of his speech. On the other hand, President Obama blurred the issue by not emphasizing it. Still he secured 50,000+ jobs for Americans. History indeed goes around in circles. Now Indians can proudly say, Americans steal our jobs.

President Obama: You have always been on the line that separates failure and success. Having known for our 'strict' grading system we give you a 'barely' passed grade although Americans have failed you. Congratulations. You must be proud of your achievement now. But, with this grade you may not even be able to secure a job in Indian call centers in two years. We often raise the IQ levels for jobs in India. Your Nobel will certainly not help. Work harder. India need a change in American perspective on economy, trade, security, and terrorism, together with a tiny backbone.

Change we can believe in, Can we?

The Goddess of Small Things!

None other than Arundhati Roy.

Taking things for granted and assuming that you are always right even without facts are the two qualities that grip you when you become an acclaimed writer. There is no escape. Ms Roy is no exception.

Since last week Ms Roy has become an unofficial spokesperson of Kashmir militants. Spreading 'peace' across Kashmir by criticizing India and standing up for the independence of Kashmir. However I failed to understand her point. Independence from whom?

Of late Ms Roy travels across the 'divided' state and interviews local people in an attempt to understand their miserable lives. Of course with a secretive intention to collect fictitious data for her next book "My baseless assumptions" (on India's atrocities in Kashmir).

Two things that caught my attention from her recent article defending her "independence for Kashmir" comment. Obviously, she unsuccessfully tries to project herself as a savior of:

Muslims in Kashmir. All her recent writings or interviews on Kashmir had at least one story of a tormented Muslim family. Without clear facts I find it difficult to be for or against anything here. For the same reason, blaming Indian government and demanding independence of Kashmir is incomprehensible. I did read in history that there are Hindus too who live in Kashmir. Have you seen and interviewed any of them, Ms Roy? Probably not. Because they are almost extinct today in that part of the world. Are you aware of ethnic cleansing? Maybe not. After all it is a fact.

Lives of Dalit soldiers. By the way, the word Dalit is now a valid adjective. Can be used in front of anything and everything. Even soldiers!

In her own words,

I spoke about justice for the people of Kashmir who live under one of the most brutal military occupations in the world; for Kashmiri Pandits who live out the tragedy of having been driven out of their homeland; for Dalit soldiers killed in Kashmir whose graves I visited on garbage heaps in their villages in Cuddalore...

Ms Roy: your comments do successfully project you in a third way. As a publicity seeker. Realize the gravity. There is a difference between politicians and writers. Writers certainly need facts, even the fiction ones. Hope you understand. Get out of your fantasies. Otherwise,


You are the Goddess of NOT small BUT cheap things!

Thought-provoking

Whilst I indulged in writing my next sarcastic post, I had a thought-provoking discussion with one of my friends. Since it is neither easy nor frequent for me to be provoked thoughtfully, I chose to write this post first. I hope that Ms Dixit and Mr Kalmadi could wait till my next post as they are already tired of CWG and at present busy with CBI and ED.

Our discussion started with an unusual question: "How do we know that we fit well into various roles we play in our lives?"

I remembered Shakespeare. He must have had the answer. After all he did manage to affirm that we are all players on a stage. To my disappointment he didn't seem to have measured the fitness of each role. Hardly a few would have the guts to criticize themselves. Shakespeare didn't belong to that 'minority' group. He seemed to have comfortably left the question untouched.

Why is it a thought-provoking question? Usually I call anything thought-provoking if I am really excited but unable to answer. And most importantly I do not wish to think about it again. Adding to my excitement, this question indeed made me think. How on earth am I going to measure the fitness of my roles as a son, brother, husband, father...? For some time I thought the question was purely rhetorical. Later I realized it certainly was not. For the first time I started to question myself: have I understood the question correctly? It doesn't happen to us often. By 'us' I meant 'researchers' in general. We always assume that we got the question correct no matter we understood it or not.

In professional terminology it seemed to me that I was given a self-assessment form. Only that the form could not be filled. It brings back the memories of my examinations. Sitting in a hall with all the restrictions in the world and waiting for the bell to ring. Only that there is no bell to ring here. I am forced to think and analyze.

Analyzing the thought-provoking question further leads only to not-so-conclusive answers. No matter whether this question makes complete sense or non-sense, the answer lies with the audience that the question was intended to. Finally I understood that I am the one who sets the question. I am not required to answer; let alone know the answer. I jumped in joy. My days are back. The bell has rung.

If you want to know how well you played your role, ask your audience! Ask your parents, siblings, longtime friends...

I appreciated the "power of asking" when I was watching a documentary on The Fall of World Trade Center. We all felt for and consoled the loved ones of those who lost their precious lives on that tragic morning. A fitting tribute. But, have we ever asked or at least thought about the engineer, Leslie Robertson, who spent months designing those towers, whose office overlooked the "once-stood" towers, who watched all his efforts vanishing in rubbles on 9/11. What he must have gone through when the towers collapsed? We don't know. Because we never asked.

The only unanswered questions are those that are never asked. Better late than never.

Men in White

Approximately fifteen-million pounds for a four-day visit. Utter lavishness. Whilst the Christ carried the cross on his shoulders and walked a long way to be crucified, His man in the Vatican city needs a specially designed bulletproof car. Modernization at its best. Church and modernization? Wealth overpowers principles, you know.

Sadly enough the Pope's tour is a State visit. I didn't realize until I figured out the meaning of State visit. David Cameron has to pay 20p from British tax-payer's money even for "His Holy Pee". One of my friends asked me innocently: "That won't be bad. How much would he pee?"

Pope's embarrassments usually start and progress during the tour. This time it came a little early. One of his advisors pulled out of the entourage quoting that UK is like a third world country due to its multicultural society. I personally don't bother about all this. Why bother a bunch of lunatics running a wealthy asylum by misleading people in the name of religion? But, do they realize that Jesus was a brown man from a third world country? I am sure not. They may even ask: Jesus, who?

Traditionally, the Vatican understands neither religion nor politics. It clearly didn't come across David Cameron's "Please save our butt" column in the Hindu when he visited India. Had they read there wouldn't have been a third world comment.

In his speech, Pope, not withstanding atheistic protests, compared Nazism and atheism saying Nazis were also atheists trying to abolish religion and God. He has a humor side too in spite of being a man of God.

Two more days left of his visit. He is yet to address the parliament. Lots of fun due. May God bless the Pope for bringing fun all the way from Vatican. I now rank Wimbledon second only to him.

While I write this I wonder: Is he really the God of men or just a man of God?

In Dependence Day

The title is not a typo. It is meant to be so. Today we are still in dependence. If not, Narayanamurthy will be jobless and bankrupt.

First I came to know about this I-Day only yesterday. I read somewhere "The PM's address to the nation". Although its the same old flour ground by "old" men time and again, thanks to the media. Every year I gather that August 15 is approaching only from them. They have a dedication to national service. They always publish this speech, come what may.

Every "proud" Indian wishes a "Happy I-Day" on FB, Orkut and wherever there is social networking. Isn't it rather an irony that Happy and I-Day are next to each other in the same sentence? Even more irony follows: those who wish on FB/Orkut are non-resident Indians. Of course they are happy abroad enjoying the western life-style and start cribbing about India as soon as they land here on vacation or for permanent settlement after being sent back by their adopted countries. This "Happy I-Day" from NRIs seems a little sarcastic to me. I am reminded of Cartman's "Screw you guys; I am going home" in Southpark.

Feeling independence is rather tricky especially when we don't actually know what independence means. But we can always list what happiness means to us in a typical Indian way.

Things make us happy only when:

• people from outside our state do not settle down in our state
  
• we steal jobs in other countries while we support the above point rigorously at home
  
• politicians loot as much as they can and on retirement pass on their power to their children
• there is a tax reimbursement for everything we buy including condoms and sanitary napkins (after all we spend a lot on the former only to help government tackle growing population)
  
• the elected members discuss important issues through their footwear
• media confuse us to the most possible extreme that we do not even understand who they target
• vote for color TV-sets
  
• we talk for hours about Indian democracy abroad and take pride in it without fail when we have not even voted once in general elections
  

I don't understand our proud Indians who adopt western culture and waiting for years to become a citizen of the adopted country and one more year for the passport. Some of them even seek to start families abroad calculating that its a shortcut to speedy citizenship. I am not complaining. I am just frustrated that I am not able to understand "Happy I-Day". Maybe I am overqualified to learn. Only that we depend a lot on adopted country 'theory'. Today we are still in dependence. In my opinion, I-Day is In Dependence Day!

I would like to extend my wishes on this day: Screw you guys, Happy I-Day!

A Fool's Journey

Destiny was the British general election. It was one of those bitter and tiring journeys that made me lose my way. From shocking to nothing. At the end, I am the fool.

On the road, I noticed two very interesting facts about British elections.

One. Elections are held only on Thursdays since 1931. A God-set day? Darwin in my ten-pounds note frowned. I understand his disapproval. So, Thursdays are either auspicious or lucky. As in Fridays and Pakistan.

Two. The Queen can vote, but in practice it is considered 'unconstitutional' for the Monarch to vote in an election. In case you are wondering, squandering public wealth doesn't fall under 'unconstitutional' category in Britain. Anywhere for that matter, I suppose. But here its legal. We pay tax to prove it too.

Many of the queue-forming British were sent home on the voting day while forming queue outside the polling station. Even before they voted. The reason was lack of ballot papers. Yes, the developed nation still use ballot papers. Indian villages use electronic technology to choose the bad among worse. I wish Mr Churchill be alive today to reconsider his 'men of straw' comment. What the heck? Let us dig him out.

British media have been partial since the day-one of Mr Brown. He had too many negative qualities to lead Britain. Scottish, media-'un'savvy, inarticulate and most importantly his illegible handwriting. Dominant British culture speaks for itself. Outfit over outlook.

British, rather English, Prime ministers in the past were eloquent. And 'only' eloquent. Mr Blair, the most charismatic PM was very loyal to the invader, Mr Bush. I would not have been surprised had Mr Bush said he has a cat, a dog and Mr Blair who would obey his commands swiftly. In contrast, Mr Brown was calm and composed even during the recession, toughest in the country's history since WWII. Of course, he proved us that he was technologically behind with his 'bigoted woman' comment on his microphone. Well, who isn't? No one is perfect.

The most 'nothing' thing in this journey was Mr Brown's offer to stand down. As someone rightly pointed out, the decision has to be admired. An example of how tough a calm guy can be. Britain need a man of action. Not mere words. By action, I don't necessarily mean arrogance. And they have lost one today.

Promiscuous quakes

A note above, for a change. Thanks to Pamela, who suggested the topic for this blog.

Last week marked an incredible discovery. Scientists all around the world bowed down before an Iranian cleric. Yes, the cleric has discovered something that scientists have toiled so many years for. It was an absolute outside-the-box thought. Scientists would have never reached that point anytime soon. On the first read itself, his proposed idea seemed fascinating and would certainly solve all mysteries behind the unpredictable earthquakes. Only that we lose all the fun. Who wants fun? Earthquakes are indeed disastrous.

A close look at his theory. He predicts that only promiscuous women are responsible for earthquakes. And the reason he unveiled was even more interesting. Men lack self-control under the influence of such women. If it was that easy, how many women are needed to take control of his President and his nuclear ambitions? Iranian cleric and women. Never go hand-in-hand. Not in public. Undeniably, the cleric has spent much time researching women, needless to mention promiscuous.

Not surprisingly, this theory attracted supporters from India. Of course, clergymen. Who else would? Of 1.2 billion, we do have substantial insanity in the form of clergies. One of them defended the cleric by giving a new perspective to his theory. By earthquake, it seems, the Iranian cleric meant social earthquake. The aftershocks have now been shifted to society. Where the hell is 'social earth' on this damn earth? When does it quake? I hope the Pope will clarify this soon after the pedophile cases.

Women, all around the world, did rise to the moment, rather insanely. A Facebook campaign asked women to dress promiscuously on April 26th. Demanded an explanation of his theory from the cleric. Having proven to be unpredictable, what if there was an earthquake? Women should have given up their outlook. Luckily it didn't happen.

Indian women are no bystanders to this. Scrupulous reactions and support for the genuine cause everywhere.
"I will definitely wear such a [promiscuous] t-shirt tomorrow to show my support" and "I don't know how effective it will be but why not do it anyway for the fun of it all?"

My response and request to them.

Are you 'supported' in such a t-shirt first of all? Please take a look at not-so-long-ago-'Swami' Nithyanandha. A notorious victim of a 'promiscuous' fun. Social quake-hit victim.

Please do not create more earthquakes. Earthquakes are not fun ;-)

Oh My GOD!

In continuation to my previous blog...

Since none had the address I gave up on GOD. One day, out of the blues, my kith and kin decided to give a green signal to my proposal. Something in me said that it was the Hand of GOD. So I wanted to thank GOD. I hit the bed that night thinking how.

The next morning. I woke up to an invitation card being slid under my door. The card read:

You are invited.
Pick up at 0800 hrs – GOD

I didn't believe at first. No one around me reads my blog to play pranks. Thoughts went deep. Something drew my attention. It was the every half-an-hour church-bell. What if this was true?

If this was GOD then I had only half-an-hour left. I didn't want to waste time anymore. I started to freshen up. All through my shower I was dreaming about riding on a white-horses-driven chariot in space to realize answers to perennial questions: Is GOD a He or She? Where does He/She live?

The moment hourly church-bell rang at 0800 hrs something drew me. All of a sudden I found myself with a kind old man. He was very friendly and was performing a routine security check. I told him about the latest airport scanners. He was amused. I didn't get a chance to mention that my dreams of chariot ride have been ruined. I can live without that.

Soon after formalities the old man led me to the GOD's room. He asked me to be polite and not to question the credibility of creationism.

The room was glittering. Everything in the room was fair and lovely. The GOD Himself was glowing. He was very bright. As in stars. As in Sun. I did notice only later that I got the answer to one of my perennial questions. Yes, the GOD was HE. He shook my hands firmly and welcomed me to His oval office. I thanked Him for what He did. He didn't take me serious. As if it was the only one He did to me. Fair enough.

I asked Him where he lives. He said His residence was just above his office. I said that He was lucky enough to have both at one place. 'Not always', He sighed.

He called someone to serve me with wine. He mentioned beforehand that it was not His blood.
Playing it down and safe, I praised Him all along.

Me: Your Omnipotence is beyond my imagination.
He: I doubt that.

"But I know for sure that I am potent enough", He winked while a beautiful and equally glowing woman served me a glass of wine. He introduced Her to me as His wife, the GODDESS. I was fascinated and knew that this meeting was taking me to another level. More personal with the GOD.

Me: So Is Da Vinci Code true?
He: I read that one. Pretty interesting.
Me: But?
He: I prefer not to answer that for my own sake.

Desperately wanting to move away from that topic, He shot a question at me.

He: What do people think about me?
Me: I narrated my encounter with a Catholic friend who tried to explain the GOD in his own way:

"Assume that you have an examination tomorrow. You know nothing about it till this evening. You cannot read or focus anymore. You pray all through the night. The next morning answers will flow out of your mind from nowhere and you will pass the examination."

He smiled and noted down the details of my friend in one of His diaries. I noticed the title of the diary: "List of prospective Popes". "Always keep your enemies within your sight", He said of His strategy. How true.

We discussed many things and I found His views very liberal. He was annoyed with the concept of abortion apparently. However, at some point, I asked about His views on condoms. "As long as it fits" was the response. He mentioned that "one size fits all is a scam". I gathered from his pitiful face that He was a victim.

His glowing face did become dull when I brought up the recent discussion on child protection. "All I can say is that, Children, please keep away from Priests" was His advice. I understood that He accepted his failure. He had no GOD to blame it on. Poor He. I didn't know how to console Him.

I jumped out of my bed hearing the buzzer. It was delivery of the book that I ordered, "The GOD Delusion".

Wow, what a dream? A dream-come-true dream!

Excuse me, am I on the right way to the past?

Never was I interested to discuss this until I myself am a victim. Interesting to know how a futuristic mindset, full of dreams, opens the door to the past bypassing the present. Absurd? Read on for more.

Indian weddings. A showcase of pride. Parents are the hosts. You are unmistakably wrong if you think their “to-wed” children are their pride. All Indian parents, irrespective of who, what, where, how they are, they have dreams about their children's wedding. Not the wedding plans that I am concerned about but choosing the right partner itself. Absurd 2. The only Unity for which the Thackerays may get along with rest of India. Fundamental right to marry whoever we want. The need for India today, more than any nuclear deal.

My entry.

I told my mom about a girl who I am interested in, of course to tie-the-knot. Not-so-surprisingly she was unhappy. Although she likes the girl, my mom thinks that our Gods may not like her Gods. In complex terms, the girl belongs to a different religion. Now I have to convince not only my mom but also the God, oops Gods! My mom somehow feels very obliged to answer the society if at all she agrees. Absurd 3. This could only happen in a country where no corrupt politician is obliged to answer anyone. We call it democracy.

My kith and kin were surprised and shocked on hearing this. Thanks to the fact that I was a calm and nice guy at home. I am afraid to marry anyone now for that matter. Take a moment. Imagine the day my wife announces that she is pregnant. All my kith and kin would be surprised and shocked again. Total chaos. Some of them might have to be rushed to emergency. Rest of them wondering how did I do and what was I thinking. Absurd 4. Only because I was a calm and nice guy at home. I wanted to tell them that I am calm but not stupid. Only that I couldn’t. Hey I am nice guy too.

After all these, I wonder. What did I really say? I like a girl. What could possibly have been their reactions if it was “I like a guy”? Beyond my imagination. It takes at least a thousand nuclear deals to transform a cat into a tiger.

Too many cooks in Indian wedding. Both literally and metaphorically. Convince many to marry one. Time is flying. Let me start my convincing with Absurd 3. Do you know where God lives?