A convenient escape route

I think I’ve heard the phrase “violation of sovereignty” a fair few dozen times over the last 20 or so hours. The context is Pakistan’s response to the Kerry-Lugar bill passed by the US Senate that “aims” to create better ties with Pakistan. This bill that is to be debated now by Pakistan’s national assembly, promises $1.5 billion every year for five years to Pakistan as a grant.

As always, take a few moments to catch your breath and re-read that last part. That’s right. A country with debts of $1.4 trillion is now set to hand out grants to Pakistan. I don’t believe I need to go into any details about the fact that that country is today not only known as, but also widely acknowledged as the the World Terror Hub. Places across the world are known as World Technology Hubs or World Tourist Hubs or even World Heavy Metal Hubs. I’ve never known any country to just sit there so brazenly about being called the World Terror Hub. It could be argued that they want to get rid of terrorism just as badly as the rest of the world does, but I just don’t see it.

From that slight detour and back on track, the US Senate passed the Kerry-Lugar bill, which has apparently been amended since it was first tabled. Among some of the conditions, of which there are a fair few, the most important part I saw was that the US would only commence the cash flow once the following conditions were met.

• The Pakistani military or its intelligence agency — ISI — ceases to support terrorist groups that have conducted attacks against the US or its coalition forces in Afghanistan or the people of neighbouring countries. (The ISI has long been known to support terror groups and this fact came out into the mainstream when a leaked British defence ministry document in 2006 substantiated just how the agency was behind the 7/7 serial blasts and other such attack. As for the attacks on neighbouring countries, Pakistan is in this wonderful position where it can condemn attacks on one hand and yet, fund people to do a 26/11 and then dilly-dally with the prosecution process. I doubt they’ll agree to this one.)
  
• Pakistan prevents Al-Qaeda, Taliban, Laskhar-e-Tayyaba and Jaish-e-Mohammed from operating in its territory, including cross-border raids into neighbouring countries. (I’m sorry, but I just don’t see that happening. Cross-border raids into Kashmir are unlikely to ever stop.)
• Pakistan dismantles terror training camps across the country including those in Quetta and Muridke (A section allegedly chucked into the bill by an Indian lobby. Read below for details on this section)
• Pakistan strengthens counter-terrorist and anti-money laundering laws.
• Pakistani security forces do not “materially and substantially” subvert the political or judicial processes of the country. (Vague vague vague. What is the defining characteristic of a material and substantial subversion? How is it different from an immaterial and unsubstantial one? And at what degree of subversion does the difference lie?)
• Pakistan continues to cooperate with the United States in an effort to dismantle supplier networks that relate to the acquisition of nuclear weapon related materials AND provides the US to direct access to Pakistani nationals like A.Q. Khan who are associated with such networks. (A.Q. Khan is one of Pakistan’s most valued resources. I cannot believe the country would allow anyone direct access to him. Just as they haven’t given anyone any access to Dawood Ibrahim for years and years, when the world knows he lives in Pakistan. Also he’s not even a Pakistani national)

Certain political leaders and sections of the media have taken to referring to this particular bill as a “strait jacket”, which is designed to prevent Pakistan from harming itself or others. Further, parts of the media also believe that the Pakistani government has been ignorant to the contents of the bill or has surrendered to the American diktat.

A matter of hours (I don’t believe it got to even days) after voices in Pakistan blamed India (or the BCCI) for the latest match-fixing conspiracy theory surrounding the former’s loss in the Champion’s Trophy, more voices emerged from within Pakistan blaming an “Indian lobby” for having pressurised the US into including the clause about “terrorists in Muridke and Quetta” (as I had mentioned above).

Now, Pakistani political parties are asking for the US to make further amendments to the bill before the national assembly in Pakistan can debate it. And there you have it folks, by using the most convenient escape route known to Pakistan for the past 62 years, which is also known as the “Blame India” policy, the country to the northwest seems all set to get itself out of another sticky situation with the rest of the world. And it’ll probably get its grants too. And continue to shoot the shit out of our citizens.

Appendix: The last time I recall hearing this “violation of sovereignty” thing so many times was when India was about to sign the Hyde Pact, also known as the 123 Agreement in 2006. In the face of many parties that disagreed with a lot of the conditions — including one about giving the US access to all India’s nuclear facilities, I think — a no-confidence motion was called, resulting in the trust vote and that infamous “cash for votes” scam.

One could well say, “Well India was indulging in the same antics as Pakistan is, right now. It’s exactly the same thing.” And while one may be partially correct, the facts are as follows: India will be spending $100 billion on American technology and Pakistan will be getting $7.5 billion... as a grant. That makes it a completely different thing.

A Nation Built on Sweat...

A Nation built on Blood
A Nation built on Dreams
A Nation - A Nation!
A Struggle - A Struggle!
A Weapon - A Weapon!

— Sepultura - Sepulnation

I’m feeling patriotic today... I don’t quite know why... It’s not that jingoistic, chest-beating and making an anus of myself kind of patriotism. I didn’t just finish watching Lagaan.It’s not Independence Day or Republic Day... Hell, it’s not even a dry day. Well, now that I know what it ain’t, let’s look at the amalgamation of what it is...

As with most things I blather on about, the reasoning is manifold. Part of it is the fact that I’m just happy, in general. Another contributing factor is that I recently read the rant of an ungrateful sod (I refuse to name you. I have dignity), selling out his country, in a bid to earn sympathy and dare I say it, friends (?) to a bunch of strangers — who are probably going to think, “Oh no, what a hell-hole India must be... poor guy”. How much or how little sympathy he got is none of my concern, but that letter did make me look around and appreciate my country for what it is.

Another potential contributing factor could be the fact that the elections are just around the corner... and watching people whip themselves into a frenzy with campaigning, bringing down their opponents or trying to win the faith of citizens is just... well, it’s a trip. Then of course there’s the feeling of dazed exhaustion at the end of a hard day’s work (No, I’m not claiming I’ve paid my “dues” or any such shit) in your own homeland, where people treat you (unless you’re a film actor, cricketer or dynastic politician) like you deserve to on the basis of what you’ve done. Actually done. Not who you are or who your daddy is.

Then of course, there’s the buzz I still have from last night. There’s a Guns ‘n’ Roses video I remember watching where Slash busts out a solo of The Godfather Theme and everyone in the audience is spellbound. I recall getting a similar vibe through the way popular culture defines Jimi Hendrix’s Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock ’69. That’s kinda what it was like watching Motherjane’s Baiju belt out a Carnatic Music-infused version of Vande Mataram — India’s National Song, for the uninitiated. And for the even less initiated, it’s not to be confused with the National Anthem. Ever.

Yes, I’m aware that I don’t need to hear National pieces of music for my love for my country to be realised. And yet, I sat there last night with my heart thumping like a bass drum as I heard every strain and note of that song resonate inside me. We’re by no means, a perfect Nation. Far from it. I dislike most of my fellow Indians

whom I meet on a daily basis — that’s never a good thing. But every country has its problems. The bureaucracy and corruption are two of the major problems we have, but we’ll find ways around it... We have no other choice. We’ve got major problems to resolve. And we’ll do it. We don’t need the Commonwealth Games, a Cricket World Cup or an Obama approval to prove we’re a serious country.

But, I digress as always.

Sigh, what a rendition of Vande Mataram that was..
What a performance...
What a band...
Sigh.

As for the aforementioned, ungrateful sod, I doubt I’ll be hearing from him any time soon. I’m an Indian after all. With the things he’s said, he’d either have to be really shameless or really stupid to talk to this Indian again... Hmmm.. Now that I think about it—...

Jai Hind

Sexy time

What is with the news this week being full of just sex, sex and very little else apart from sex? More so than usual, I mean. In fact, the papers have been so full of sex lately that I’m surprised that a renowned political science (or something) professor from St. Xavier’s College — who usually has a problem with anything and everything — hasn’t gone and filed a Public Interest Litigation to ban all newspapers.

Slight detour: Public Interest Litigation? Now there’s a misnomer if I ever heard one. I’d like to look at a list of all the so-called Public Interest Litigations filed (especially in Mumbai) and check just how many were really in the public’s interest and how many were just because one person was pissy that his/her kid wouldn’t stop watching WWE on TV. Or wouldn’t eat his/her peas. Or something.

But back to the sex part now, more on the issue of bans and banishment later. Here’s a list of only a miniscule number of “sexy” stories that popped up in the papers this week.

Cricket training dossier: The biggest story by far was arguably lifted from what was probably a tiny section in Indian cricket coach Gary Kirsten’s dossier to the team on preparation etc. He happened to mention that sex was a good preparation tool before a big game. In his words, “pre-match sex boosts players’ performance”. Perhaps so, but that was probably just a section of the whole dossier. Instead that was pretty much all that was written about. So much so, that they even had a section in one paper (I forget which) where retired cricketers were asked about their views on this dossier. There are many terrible things in the words and reading about Bishen Singh Bedi and Ajit Wadekar waxing eloquent about masturbation ranks quite high on that list.

Sex degrees of separation: According to Britain’s Lloyd’s Pharmacy, the average British person has had 2.8 million indirect sexual partners in a lifetime. What began as a survey of 6,000 adults to raise and spread awareness about sexually-transmitted diseases, turned within no time into what will undoubtedly form the topic of discussion at many a bar-type situation. According to the ‘sexual health director’ of Lloyds, “When we sleep with someone, we are, in effect, not only sleeping with them, but also their previous partners and their partners’ previous partners.” Lovely thought.

Moskau Mule: Nothing to do with a mule really, I just like the alliteration... But I digress. On the same week as I go and meet the US Ambassador to India, the US Ambassador to Russia filed an official complaint with the Russian government. Why is this relevant? Because the complaint was filed against someone who allegedly fabricated a sex video that popped up on a Russian website, depicting a US diplomat “doink the hokey-pokey” with some unidentified woman in a non-descript hotel room. Apparently, the video was made by splicing footage. Of course it was spliced. It was spliced the same way as Varun Gandhi’s communal speech was spliced with the footage.

Doggy Style: However, what is by far and a long way, my favourite sex story of the week is about 26-year-old taxi driver Mahesh Kamat. Now, as the story goes, Mahesh, after a hectic day behind the wheel, decided to unwinds — as you do — by having sex with a dog. The traumatised canine’s whines and yelps drew the attention of a passerby, who lodged a complaint and had the man put away. Now, after being in custody, Kamat demands bail. Why’s that, you ask? Because according to him, the police had not taken the victim’s statement. Read that again if you need to. The lack of the raped dog’s statement, according to Kamat, was reason enough for him to get bail. Honestly.

And that’s just some of them.

However, reverting to the talk of bans and banishment, some genius from that hallowed hub of Hinduism that is Nevada, USA has called for Kirsten’s resignation as coach, for attacking the moral fibre of the country. According to a “Hindu statesman and president of the Universal Society of Hinduism” by the name of Rajan Zed, Kirsten seemed to imply that women were to be used like gym equipment or some such shit. He also claimed that in India, cricketers are looked upon as role models and having them indulge in casual sex was a scary thought, as millions would start copying them. As an indication of just how mind-numbing that last statement was, my brain has gone blank and I have no idea how to finish this post, let alone continue it.

FIN

A letter to Mr Tharoor

Dear Mr Minister of State for External Affairs or just Shashi, if I may call you that?

Let me preface my letter by saying, I have no doubt that this must have been an trying week indeed for you. And doubly so, considering you happen to be a citizen of this Nation of ours, where everyone — from political parties to media houses — seem to be caught in some cutthroat deathmatch of one-upmanship. And as your luck (or lack thereof) would have it, your much publicised twittering (or tweet or whatever it’s called) happened to fall in the run-up to the elections.

You know that’s asking for trouble.

To recap, when you were asked if you would travel by “cattle class” the next time you travel to your constituency in Kerala, you said, “Absolutely, in cattle class out of solidarity with all our holy cows”. Dunno about the rest. Makes me laugh (*).

And yes, you did put out many a clarification stating that “you were repeating the term used by the journo”, that “you incorrectly assumed that people would understand humour and not deliberately distort your words” and that it “wasn’t aimed at passengers but companies that herd passengers like cattle” and the Prime Minister too tried to play it off as a joke. Sadly, just as Jaswant Singh and L.K. Advani will forever be stuck with their Jinnah-love, so too will this remark stick to you like white on rice. That’s the nature of today’s world, Sir. Once the media and opposition politicians have sunken their teeth into something you did/said that is open to interpretation, they will all interpret it in the worst way possible and never let you forget their interpretation.

You and I, we’re not all that different, you know — minus the small matter of the UN involvement, the member of Parliament thing, the umpteen books and articles and the education... Apart from all that, we’re not too different. I once made a simple joke using the phrase “LS” for comedy effect. I was tagged elitist. I once referred to a George Carlin line in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back and said to someone jokingly, “Stop being so suburban” and i got tagged elitist, snobbish, “townie” and a slew of other shit. <Small digression: And yet, these same morons are branded comedy superstars for potshots at the colour of my skin, my residential address, where I’ve studied, what I’ve done and what I do. The reason I put that (*) higher up in this letter, is because I’m certain that at some point, one or more of these aforementioned morons will question my right to laugh at the statement you made and call me elitist again. Good Stuff>

But I learnt something from all those “faux pas”. The reason I use inverted commas is because personally I did not see my foot even remotely near my face, never mind it entering my mouth. That people chose to make an issue out of it is why it will be known to them as a faux pas, but to me as a “faux pas”. Anyway, I did learn something and that is that if you make the mistake of wasting high-quality humour on these people, don’t explain the joke. They’re never going to understand it. They don’t want to understand it.

Take it easy and don’t let all the governance hoo-ha stop you from putting out some more books. Keep it clean.

Bye-bye...

Inhale... Exhale... Inhale...

I believe I can see the future
Cause I repeat the same routine
I think I used to have a purpose
But then again
That might have been a dream
I think I used to have a voice
Now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around

— Every Day is exactly the Same (Nine Inch Nails)

I think it was a couple of days ago when I was typing in the dateline for a news report I was filing when typing “September” (actually it was just “Sept.”) caught me off guard and made me look at it again because it seemed so wrong. September? It cannot bloody be September already, I said to myself. Wasn’t so much that I had big plans for September, but really, September? I remember like it was just yesterday that I was adjusting to writing “2009” at the end of the date.

Where the hell did the year go?

And since I’m asking, why does most of it seem like a blur? And I answer, I think living on a day-to-day basis tends to do that. As Vinnie D said in the first Fast and the Furious, “I live my life a quarter-mile at a time”. Wake up. Do the bathroom thing. Eat. Walk around trying to find other people’s agony and ecstacy that can turn into words that will take up space. Actually sit down and turn life into statistics and words. Go home. Sleep. No wonder everyday seems like it was the one that came before it and the one that will follow.

Everyday, it’s drilled into my head that yesterday’s laurels are gone. Go out there and earn some more of them laurels. I suppose that’s why a daily newspaper is so much more disposable than say, a magazine. And then I think about it and I find it’s not that I dislike my job. It isn’t like I dislike the work. Dunno what it bloody is. I’ve never particularly hated or overly loved the idea of routine.

I’ve been pretty apathetic to it and accepted it as is. But I never expected myself to get so dragged into it that the only thing that changes from day-to-day and month-to-month are a few letters and numbers. Do I dislike it? Not especially... So what the hell am I ranting about? Or is this my feeble attempt at keeping you, the readers interested with some new material? Answers on a postcard or of course, you could comment here...

Shove your season's greetings where the sun don't shine

I’m one of the loudest voices I know against guns and the owning of guns by civilians. I’m all for gun-control. Yesterday however, saw me baying for blood and wishing that I had some sort of fully automatic assault rifle to mow down these morons who had blocked off this major arterial road that a number of commuters (me included) use on a daily basis. Why had they done that? For God, apparently.

Just what is it about the festive season that brings out the very worst in Hindus? Bit of a random thing to fire off at the very start of this post, but such is the mood. I found myself wondering about how unlike the other major religions in India (Islam, Christianity, Judaism, Sikhism etc.), there isn’t a single religious occasion observed by Hindus that is about solemn introspection, spending some time with the family or just being quiet.

The primary objective of every single festival and occasion seems to be about making an utter nuisance of oneself, in the most ostentatious way possible. The only thing surprising about that statement is the fact that it’s only just dawning on me. Allow me to substantiate.

Holi, the festival of colours (which is what it started off as) usually makes for numerous photographs online and in newspapers of “revellers” covered from head-to-toe in colour, flashing huge toothy grins. People from other nations see those photos and undoubtedly smile at “the quaint ways of these Indians”. But what happens after the photographs are taken? It is the one day of the year when wanton eve-teasing, molestation and worse goes unpunished. Highly inebriated louts operate under the cover of total anonymity — who’s gonna recognise someone when they’re covered in so much colour? And even if some of them are arrested, sources inform me that they’re released the very next morning.

Diwali, the so-called festival of lights (a misnomer if I ever saw one) has degenerated into a competition these days — who can make the most noise? A cynical view? I don’t think so. While there is still a tiny bit of old world charm left for people who enjoy the sparkling lights and how everything brightens up when a bottle-rocket scorches the sky, most of the landscape is dotted with people trying to blow shit up. Mini effin’ terrorists. A couple of years ago, I’d vented my spleen about this, so I won’t elaborate much more. Except to state the fact that very little boils my blood more than these morons who run into the middle of the street to set off fireworks in the face of oncoming traffic.

Janmashtami, the day of the birth of Lord Krishna is marked by pots tied up at heights all across the city. As a means of replicating the way Krishna was supposed to have stolen butter and curds as a wee ’un, these pots are filled with curd and the human pyramids people form to smash them are the stuff of legend. Their motivation — there’s money inside. Lured by the money on offer, truckloads (literally) of loud and abrasive people scour the city in teams. Not only are the pyramids dangerous, but the loutish behaviour they exhibit between pyramids doesn’t exactly brighten up anyone’s day.

Which brings us neatly to the source of the ire that fuels this rant. Ganesh is one of my favourite avatars of God and so, I believe Ganeshotsav (the Ganesh festival, in other words) to be a special time to reflect on the year gone by, offer thanks and pray for the year ahead. However, as with every other festival, the descent into cheap and boorish behaviour has had its stranglehold on this festival for a while. I fail to understand how transporting huge PA systems in lorries, vans or handcarts, blasting Bollywood music and dancing in the middle of the street — holding up traffic — is any way of observing this festival. Setting off fireworks in the middle of the street baffles me even more. Behaving like the whole world has to come to a standstill because you have the urge to make a jackass of yourself in the middle of the street, damn near turns me genocidal.

To make things worse, let alone trying to control things or keep them in moderation, the powers-that-be in this here country seem hellbent on encouraging this... this... nonsense. Humongous hoardings are up along most roads with a wide gamut of political leaders (with gigantic pictures of themselves up on the hoarding) wishing citizens on the occasion. These hoardings shamelessly and with unerring regularity, encroach on roads and streets, thereby, narrowing them further. And then when you add the dancing morons...

I don’t know which part of whatever they’ve been reading, says that the bigger a jerk you make of yourself, the more God will love you; the more inconvenience to others you cause, the dearer to God you become. Somebody who said in 1947 when India won its Independence that we should have banned all public shows of religion, must’ve known what he was talking about.

Through the Wormhole

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, oh here we go again. He’s going to start by saying something like “The Oxford Dictionary” describes a wormhole as...” and then lead onto Stephen Hawking’s view on wormholes and then tie it all together with a ropey analogy. And perhaps, you may be right. That’s why I’m purposely getting down to brass-tacks immediately with minimal fanny-ing around. Well, perhaps just a little.

In the span of the week or so, I’ve made trips back to 2001 1990 for different reasons and have returned more and more jet-lagged and nostalgic every time. A lack of desire to listen to any of the music I had on my iPod, dragged me over to an old stack of CDs that I briefly flipped through. A green CD-R caught my eye. On it was a marker pen scrawl. The scrawl read “Bouncing Souls — How I spent my Summer Vacation”. Twas my summer of 2001 when I heard that record the first time.

School was out and the summer holidays had just begun. Simple Man and I decided we’d spend a majority of the summer at the skate park trying to practice and get better, but for that we’d need tunes. The subsequent trip to the local record store helped us unearth this little gem, which after that day, was on heavy rotation in our earphones all day and all night. That summer culminated with a number of live shows (the Big Cheese festival, Less than Jake live and some others I can’t recall) and on September 14 (three days into London’s amber alert because two planes had flown into two towers across the pond), we finally saw Bouncing Souls... live!

Certain parts of the album still send shivers up and down my spine. I was pleasantly surprised.

Now, a little while after this nostalgia trip, came another in the form of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra. Now I’d enjoyed the Spidey flicks, the Batman ones and hell, even the X-Men films and spin-off, but I’d never really read the comics as a little boy. Shit, I didn’t even know the X-Men existed. But G.I. Joe, I definitely knew about G.I. Joe as a kid in 1990, playing with the first two action figures I owned — Firefly and Major Bludd. (Thinking about it, I did own mostly Cobra action figures).

Using Blu-Tack, bits of twine (excellent for making aerial ropeslides and nets), Lego blocks and my tiny posse of Cobras, I’d create some elaborate little diorama-style domino-effect setups, where one small action would trigger off a series of things sliding, crashing, falling, swooping and falling into a net. I never did manage to work out how to get one action figure to swoop down past another and lift it up. As usual, I digress.

Going to watch the film, I knew better than to expect anything remarkable (Just like with Doom). I knew there’d be no brain-busting storyline, but I also knew that it would be a CGI-driven frag-fest and I was salivating at the prospect of the Snake Eyes-Storm Shadow showdown. The film as expected, was nothing remarkable. The tingle in my spine came a little later, when I realised that I’d actually seen a live action film that contained the same characters I’d sent on various dangerous missions — each more dangerous than the next. The same characters that under my command had at some point or the other been grievously injured or were staring into the chasm of death. And I’d just seen them on the big screen.

My stories and action sequences were better.