Saturday, January 5, 2013

Stalin, The Fruit of My Loins!


“Stalin, the fruit of my loins!” – quivered an infirm Karunanidhi as he quietly slipped the baton to his son and heir-apparent, M.K. Stalin. Pausing for dramatic effect, he also added – “A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the son of a dynasty, long suppressed, finds utterance…”

This habitual poetic flourish aside, the old and limp patriarch of the DMK family looked but a shadow of his former feisty self. He had been a fighter all his life, the lone bastion of Dravidian pride against a rapidly Aryanizing polity. His, was a life spent in aggressive furthering of the Tamil cause in India as in Sri Lanka, in water-supply networks that never got built and in spectrums that never got allotted. A life spent in cultivating public-sympathy through rehearsed dramatizations of police excesses, broadcasted live to a world-wide audience on Sun TV.  



This fateful day, as he looked towards the future, he could not help rue the fact that not only had facebook rendered Sun TV irrelevant, but he too had been outmaneuvered and outclassed at his own game by the Aam-Aadmi (NOT his real name).



With the uncanny shrewdness of a man who had thrived through 60 years of vicissitudes in politics, he could easily anticipate the reactions from opponents as well as allies.
Congress, he expected to be thrown into a violent fit of inaction with The Prodigal Son (or TPS, as Subramanian Swamy would tweet) strumming on his guitar
Give me some sunshine, give me some rain…
Give me another chance I wanna blow it once again…

Taking recourse in the only Hindi idiom he knew, he sighed – “Theek Hai….”

Unlike the Congress, he expected the BJP to be a beehive of activity. There would be too many strategies championed by too many leaders. While some of them would fart in splendid isolation, others would frantically check with their media-managers to see if Swami Vivekananda had included The Dravidian in his definition of The Ideal Indian.

Thinking about his prankish relationship with the BJP, he made a quick mental note on how to greet its leaders during his next trip to Delhi – “I think I will just ask them which engineering college did Ram graduate from?”

Other regional satraps, he rightly felt, would be fractured in their response to this change of guard in his party.

The TMC Supremo, working tirelessly towards her elusive Sonar Bangla, will probably manage only a brief moment of indiscretion. Letting her history trip over the confusion of her politics, she might just quiz her party-spokesperson, “Wasn’t Stalin a Maoist?” And that mouthpiece of hers, will probably jump to her defence, claiming she had been quoted out of context and that it was a simple case of journalistic misrepresentation by the big media houses in Bengal.

The SP and BSP, if contacted, were unlikely to have a considered opinion on either his party or him. For them, it would just be the FDI hang-over –

Bharat ke iss nirmaan pe haq hai mera….kam se kam 20 percent!

Actor Jayalalitha will definitely create a huge fuss before storming out. The CPM Politburo would, in a classic display of its out-of-touch with reality, release a statement saying – “We will continue to provide issue based support to the DMK government in Tamil Nadu.”

Meanwhile, he thought that there could also be the outside possibility of an online petition accusing him and Mr. Nabokov of misogyny. While Mr. Nabokov might not be available for comment (presumably, because he was dead), he would definitely have a fatherly tip or two – “Grow up, lads!”, he would tell them.

Among all this clarity, there was, however, one note of dissonance that made him feel really old. And that was the impertinent bunch, the urban, middle-class. Their recent show of discontentment had not been kind to his stomach ulcers. They could not be won over by free TVs or sacks of rice. They were insolent rogues who had no reverence for authority. Now, if only they could be contained at India Gate till the elections were over, Stalin could look forward to lesser troubles and more sit-downisms at espresso shops.

P.S. – All views are deliberate. If found offensive, the writer would like to withdraw the article unconditionally. He would like this immunity to extend to all articles written in the past, those in the present and others that he plans to write in the future.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Dear Rabid Hindu...

There's nothing more pathetic than your false bravado. And nothing more at variance with your history. During the last 1000 years, you have been cannon fodder for Turkish military might and a poor cousin to sophisticated Persian bureaucracy. All these years, you lacked both the stomach for an open combat and the strategic generalship to do so. What you could not achieve materially or militarily, you left your bard to dream of.  True to your character, you have, off late, been most virulent  as a sly assassin, an unruly mob against a numerically inferior opponent or as a nameless and faceless 'internet hindu'. Oh, did you know that the 'Hindu' is a term coined by the Arabs?

So much for the 'Shaurya Diwas' that you celebrated on Dec 6th - a day that should rank together with the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas and the Twin Towers as one of the most barbaric acts in recent history. The above paragraph is for you to go get a reality check.

If you believe that Islam was spread just by the sword, you are mistaken. If you believe that the Turk and Hindu were always confrontational, you are mistaken. If you turn your eyes away from the richness of the Indo-Islamic heritage and the 'Hindu' element in it, you are mistaken. But, most of all, if you try to avenge history by reducing yourself to medieval standards of barbarity, you are not what the country deserves. And, that is not what a 'Hindu Renaissance' should consist of. 

Swami Vivekanda, whom you routinely appropriate to justify 'Hindu re-awakening', was essentially a philosopher and would have nothing to do with riff-raff like you. Swamiji would often say - 
"Jeebe prem kore jei jon...
Shei jon shebiche ishwar.."
This would translate into - "Love your fellow beings to really love God.."

Unfortunately, you need to do a lot to truly appreciate this.
  

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

A Life That You Knew

It was a sunny, August Sunday when a sea of humanity converged onto the Ramlila Grounds in Delhi. A veteran anti-corruption crusader had galvanized the usually apolitical common man into a vocal critic of the current political class. But who were these 'ordinary men on the road'? What was middle-India? From the Punjab to Bengal, from Agra to Vizag, what is it that bound them together?

Please read "A Life That You Knew" and discover reflections of your own life in it. Please leave a word about it here. You could purchase it offline or online via the links below:

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