Modi, still a dirty word

Narendra Modi is still a dirty word.
A word of praise for him, and the media and the political fraternity put on their hate glares to see the riot-tainted images of the 2002 riots and the Gujarat Chief Minister’s alleged role in it.
Yesterday, Maulana Ghulam Mohammad Vastanvi was removed from the post of vice-chancellor of Darul Uloom, Deoband, by the Majlis-e-Shoora, the powerful governing body of the institution seven months after he praised Modi. The Maulana had said at a function in his home state of Gujarat that like all other communities, “Muslims too had progressed under the Narendra Modi government, and that the Muslims should look beyond the post-Godhra communal riots and press ahead”.
All hell broke loose. The Maulana’s statement was seen as an attempt at giving a clean chit to Modi, triggering violence on the Darul Uloom campus, with deafening demands for his ouster.
So why is Modi still a dirty word? In April, Gandhian and activist Anna Hazare came in for sharp criticism for praising Modi and Bihar Chief Minister Nitish Kumar for their efforts on rural development. “The Chief Ministers of other states should also work like this,” the 73-year-old activist had said.
Again, his statement drew flak, with a number of Left and civil rights organisations wanting to distance themselves from Hazare in his campaign against corruption. The Congress MP Rashid Alvi had even said: “No secular person in the country can support Modi.”
Early this year, former President A.P.J. Abdul Kalam was all praise for the high economic growth Gujarat had achieved under Modi during the past six years. He cited the state’s agricultural growth that had been steady at 7 to 9 per cent for the past six years. He said Modi had created a dedicated power grid for uninterrupted supply to rural areas and improved irrigation systems, turning 20,000 hectares of unirrigated land into a rich agricultural area.
So here is the debate between the ghost and growth.
On the other hand, we have errant and corrupt chief ministers ruling over our states. While one has been holidaying in Mauritius even as his state’s Lokayukta report has indicted him of having amassed wealth in exchange for granting illegal mining licenses, we have another one building statues and amassing diamonds. While a political patriarch lost his chief ministership in a state after having bred ministers who had embroiled themselves in one of the biggest telecom scams ever, we had another political leader who had lost his chief ministerial chair after having been involved in a housing scam meant for Kargil widows.
What I am trying to think is that on the one hand we have our unscrupulous leaders continuously draining the state exchequer, while filling up their personal coffers, and we have a Chief Minister who has been drawing praises for his agricultural and other development work, but has the ghost of 2002 handing like an albatross round his neck.
What is the greater evil? A Chief Minister with a riot-tainted past? By the way, there are stray evidences and multiple allegations of the government machinery involved in the gory, “cleansing” act of 2002.
Or is it the unscrupulosity of our leaders who see political power as a short-term personal fixed deposit scheme, in which they would have to park as much wealth as possible.
So what is the dirtier word: Modi or Corruption?
I haven’t got an answer to it.

Don’t let us down!

The Supreme Court finally acted on the draconian Salwa Judum, stripping it off power and arms. The special police force had been organised by the Chattisgarh government to tackle the so-called Naxal “menace” as the ruling power loves to call it. By the way, in all drawing room discussions, the areas where Naxals are active are called Naxal-infested, as if they were insects or even rabid.
The Salwa Judum, with its heady concoction of upper caste “warriors” ably backed by the state machinery had run roughshod across the rural belt, intimidating villagers and tribals, and spewing orders in the name of justice. It had become an extra-constitutional authority.
The Supreme Court also passed another order last week, directing the Mayawati government to return “usurped” land to farmers.
And, Jairam Ramesh, when he was environment minister, intervened two days back to stop Vedanta from raping Nayamgiri hills, by refusing environmental clearance for bauxite mining.
These decisions are important, almost landmark because they might bring back people’s faith in our country’s democratic system. Just might, what with most of our political leaders vying for space in Tihar with multiple charges of corruption and some even enjoying their tea with jail officials.
The country’s growth is lopsided at the best. The government is projecting a growth rate of over 10 per cent, lacing it with the argument of a trickle-down effect. Only the so-called bounty that is seemingly trickling down gets blocked periodically.
Today’s reshuffle in the Manmohan Singh Cabinet may seem to be a shake-up to ascertain itself as having taken some action in its corridors of corruption. But as Anna Hazare pointed out: a reshuffle will not tackle corruption, only a change will.
An important man who has been juggled around is Jairam Ramesh. His exit is a major loss to the environment ministry. Ramesh had combined activism with his ministerial position, often embarrassing the government, which sometimes chose development at the cost of displacement. This portfolio will now be handled by Jayanti Natarajan, a rather tame choice for such a high-profile (read important) ministry. She will have to do lot of tight-rope walking to take forward the work of her predecessor without succumbing to pressure.
Ramesh’s elevation to the status of a Cabinet minister with the rural development portfolio is in my opinion a “ploy” by the government to play down the environmental issues thrown into the public radar by our activist-minister. But Ramesh can get into the skin of his new portfolio of rural development and dig out hidden concerns into the public arena. His decisions to look into the Naxal strongholds and the tribal heartland that comprises the backward areas could help further elevate his stature in the public eye. His steps in the direction of the rural employment guarantee scheme for the uplift of the people could be useful. What’s more; he could use this portfolio to integrate rural development with preserving our ecology by guaranteeing tribals their native livelihood, and not the one “promised” by corporate land sharks who promise employment that would at best be petty and menial. An effective penetration into rural development can at the most preserve our countryside from being made into concrete jungles with brick and mortar.
Ramesh, please don’t let us down!

Slut it out

A woman in Pakistan was paraded naked because her son committed rape. Afghanistan, Pakistan and India are in the top five countries deemed most dangerous for women, according to a recent poll of gender experts. Speaking of India, it is a country where women are worshipped as deities and killed in foetal stage.
On the other side of the spectrum, we have women across the world organising “slut walks”, dressing up provocatively after a Toronto police officer suggested that in order not to be victimised, “women should avoid dressing like sluts”.
The term slut has a negative connotation, and is obviously directed towards the woman. It means a loose woman, a prostitute, a dirty, unkempt woman, or a woman who performs menial work. And invariably, it is the woman who is blamed for a man’s lust. Violence and rape are on the rise because women are dressed provocatively, rather than “decently”.
Now, what is decent dressing? How are women supposed to dress up so as not to “provoke” the male folk into pawing them? How much must a woman cover herself so as not to let her modesty be outraged? Is a hint of cleavage or a tight-fitting T-shirt “allowed”? I am curious.
Isn’t it totally bizarre to pin the responsibility on the woman for being leered at, or worse, for being raped? Instead of asking women to cover themselves properly to avoid the dubious male gaze, why can’t we turn the table for once and ask the males to desist from sexual violence?
Many schools across the country have a salwar-kameez dress code for ‘’grown-up” girls, and when they foray into college, that code is extended. Why not a code of conduct for the boys for a change? Why can’t boys be groomed as they become men to stop looking at women as sex objects? Apart from splashing crime and rape across the media and organising seminars on sexual violence, or taking out marches to protect the “right to dress”, can we just spare a thought to edify junior and senior adams not to see women purely as eves waiting for a lay?
But there is a flip side to this argument. Women of the urban genre seem so hypnotised by a modern “trend”. They have a rather skewed idea of liberation. For them, liberation seems to be daring to bare. Digging a little more would probably give them a deeper sense of what liberation is. But they have buried that to explore this new-found freedom of expression, completely deflecting them from an independent mind set. I don’t think feminism is burning bras to “free” oneself. It would only “disfigure” our ideas. Both men and women have certain anatomical assets and liabilities, and it is best to bury the unnecessary attention it gets.

Sun sets and flowers bloom

The sun has set in Tamil Nadu and the twin flowers bloomed in West Bengal. Both made possible by two women, high on whims and tantrums. But the similarity ends there. One is a political widow (well almost), groomed to perfection by her mentor, former Tamil Nadu chief minister M.G. Ramachandran; while the other is a rebel who rose from playing street politics, unnerving the urban, elite Calcuttans, and rode roughshod into the rural red fort of Bengal.
One has had two stints as chief minister; she has a polished demeanour with a ruthless streak; while the other has to test her skill as an administrator, but has a raw appeal. One oscillates between her castles in high-profile addresses of Kodai and Chennai, and is most certainly inaccessible; the other lives in her only address: a humble home in a middle class south Calcutta locality. One is revered, worshipped, and feared. The other is admired and even loved for being the lone face of change in the 34-year-old red bastion. While one had power handed to her on a platter by her political mentor and co-star of zillion films, MGR, the other fought her way to power from the streets of Calcutta to the lush agricultural fields of rural Bengal, with no one behind her but herself and her rebellious streak. One has faced charges of corruption, having dipped her rather large hand into the state treasury’s luscious pie; the other is fiercely honest. One is Amma, and the other is Didi. That’s Jayalaitha and Mamata for us, who are set to rule the states of Tamil Nadu and West Bengal respectively. Will they deliver?
Jayalalitha will have the state machinery and her own experience to count on. Besides, she has to simply restructure the industrial map of Tamil Nadu to attract investments and take the state forward.
But for Mamata, she has to remove the bright red hue of the state machinery, which it must have acquired after having been associated with the Left for 34 years. Then she will have to begin her green campaign. The balance of agricultural-industrial development is delicate in the state, especially after the Left’s Singur and Nandigram experiments. The corporates sense an unfavourable investment climate in the state. Moreover, she has to handle the Gorkha issue that comes to a boil one in a while.
Didi’s crown of thorns will make it uneasy for her. Amma, on the other hand, got her diamond-studded crown on a platter from the polity, frustrated with the scam-tainted DMK government. While one worked very hard for her crown, almost living off the kutcha and pucca streets of Bengal; the other won it rather easily without having to work too hard for it. The DMK First Family made it easy for her to get it.
Hail democracy.

Hazare khwaishen aisi!

There have been a surfeit of columns branding the Lok Pal committee as anti-democratic as it will be peopled by civil activists other than our elected leaders; that the movement had been fed and fuelled by “Left” sympathisers as if they were to be avoided like plague; that it had gained momentum following the West Asia crisis or revolution (depending on the side of coin you wish to see); that Anna Hazare had to be blamed for having blackmailed the government into setting up such a watchdog as it will comprise civilians apart from elected politicians. One column said Mahatma Gandhi used Satyagraha to humble the despotic/autocratic colonial rule, and Anna Hazare should not have approached our democratically elected government with this approach.
The movement has indeed inspired the tweeting-texting middle class Indians to rally behind Hazare, apart from the Bollywood brigade. I choose to toss the Bollywood support out of the multiplex’ revolving glass doors because I do not think I want to take their multiple roles too seriously. They are certainly not our role models; they can remain in the reels.
Columnists have doled out solutions like cleaning up our system; the fact is we have three democratic sensors: the Executive, Legislature and Judiciary, and a fourth conscientious one: the Press. We have seen how our Parliament and Assemblies function. Chairs are hurled, paper rockets fly across; ministers almost come to blows, and finally, wad of notes makes a mockery of the electoral process. Precious work hours are lost, and policy decisions take a back seat. The less said the better about the media screaming for attention with its innovative (read business savvy) ways of catching the eyeballs. So when Hazare went on fast, the channels began an SMS campaign. The great Indian middle class fell into the trap, hook, line and sinker, texting messages of solidarity from their touch screen mobiles or newly-acquired i-pads. The biggest gainers were the mobile service providers and the news channels, who share the spoils of the message revenue. The immaturity of the India electronic media is so stark; we have news anchors spilling out emotions, rather than acting objectively.
In India, a cleaning up of a system has not been possible so far. We have stepped into the sixth decade, and the system only stinks. The income gaps have widened, corporate-politician nexus has strengthened; elections have become an over-the-counter service with take television sets/sarees and stamp on symbol in return; poll alliances have become a joke, making strange bedfellows and sleeping partners. No one seems to be awake in this system, except a few consciences in the judiciary; I repeat only a few of them. Everything and everyone is up for sale, up for grabs..from the traffic policemen to those in the portals of power.
We needed this mass hysteria to at least shake off the lethargy, and transform drawing room frustrations into candle light vigils. Anna Hazare did not do this to end corruption; he merely stirred us out of our slumber, or of helplessness.
India is a land of icon-lovers. We need an icon to worship and that explains why we have made our cricket players and filmstars gods. That explains the statue culture or statue diplomacy of our politicians, whether it is a Mayawati or a Shivaji, a Netaji or a Basava. Or the cut-out culture of the south, where endless litres of milk are poured on the larger-than-life canvas images of Rajnikath.
Then why is a Tamil filmstar, whether it is MGR or Rajnikanth, elevated to that super-human status by their supporters, despite growing under the shadow of an iconoclast like Periyar of the Dravidian movement? The reason is simple: we Indians cutting across linguistic state boundaries are used to worshipping an entity. So when Periyar destroyed the idea of idol-worship, they resorted to worshipping human beings, elevating them to the status of Gods.
Let us admit, we Indians are yet to mature into a powerful democratic force powered by intellectual exposure. We are immature, illiterate, in awe of public figures, and therefore, needed an Anna Hazare as our conscience-keeper to tell us not to take corruption lying down.
Hazare only won a minor skirmish for us. The war still remains to be fought.

Blue bleeding the tax-payers?

The euphoric last ball six will be MS Dhoni’s most beautiful return gift for all the adulation his countrymen and women have given him, sealing once and for all the cruel memory of Javed Miandad’s last-ball six off Chetan Sharma at Sharjah. My sister had snapped ties with me for 24 hours that Friday because I had predicted Miandad would hit big.
Back to World Cup 2011, 48 hours have lapsed, and the booze has lost its fizz, the media has finished interviewing anyone and everyone within the champions’ radar: friends, relatives, temple priests, astrologers, gardeners, maids and drivers. The news pages and channels have gone berserk with the celebration blitzkrieg, with champagne and rewards raining heavily on willing players’ heads. The moment the ecstatic men in blue touched the Cup, the BCCI promised a few more crores into the players’ kitty. What has followed is a tsunami of rewards by the not-to-be-left-behind governments (Centre and state) that is going to leave the middle class tax-payers devastated. And this is not a silly point, mind you.
The players are anyway on a fascinating financial wicket, with more bounce added to those gorgeous millions, apart from the ICC’s 13.8 crore prize money and the BCCI monetary gift to each of the champions. Fair enough! BCCI is a cricket board, after all.
Take a look at the unrestrictive, commercial power-play: just imagine the brand endorsements these players indulge in. No problems. They are celebrities and have earned this position. So apart from the cola they push (that has incidentally also taught them to change the gentleman’s game and go for the upar cuts and pallu-helicopter shots against opponents), these players are asking us to watch Sony television, use Karbon mobiles, wear reebok gear, apply male fairness cream, fill car tanks with Speed fuel and insure ourselves with Aviva, to name a few. This is taking care of adding more millions into their large piggy bank.
Now the “men and women in white” have stepped in to distribute the largesse in cash and kind. First, the Delhi government’s Sheila Dikshit offered cash rewards. Mamata Banerjee announced free railway passes to the champions. She had the time to make such announcements despite the elections in West Bengal. She anyway need not write fresh hate-Left speeches; even Chief Minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharya knows it by heart. Bangalore’s Yeddyurappa government quickly announced plots of land for the players. Soon, other the state governments followed suit, and will follow suit with their cricket charity.
Why? Why is it that governments are joining this bandwagon when their respective states are in a shambles? Corruption has failed to become an election issue because it seems to have become an accepted or even an acceptable fact. Governance remains a fancy democratic term. Why are the men in white so unaffected by the country, infected by the dangerous bugs of illiteracy, inflation, unemployment and poverty? Why do our men in white choose to drive past hungry shanties in their white convoys? Why do our men in white want to use tax payers’ money to fill the over-flowing coffers of the men in blue?
So the ICC pays them, BCCI pays them, corporates pay them, sponsors pay them, bookies pays them (I couldn't resist this temptation). Then why are the tax payers being wrung out to carry coal to New Castle (to use a cliché)?

‘Ode’ one out

It was a wonder in red. As I went past the dry, dusty terrain and entered a mammoth gate into the complex, a lump formed in my throat. I could see the huge complex comprising myriad structures from the locally quarried red sandstone. Fatehpur Sikri, Akbar’s dream city replete with a dargah of Salim Chisti, is a poetry written with honesty and sincerity. It was an encounter with the great Mughal emperor. I could feel the vibrations when my hands felt the pristine red walls and my feet explored the spacious terraces defining the edifices. As my eyes browsed the façade and the sober interiors, I could feel the emperor’s presence, led by him through his creation and being at the receiving end of his hospitality. It was like interacting with the statesman on the ideals of secularism. Fatehpur Sikri is imbued with Akbar’s persona, pulling me into the past. My pulse went racing as I stroked the pillars of his values and ideals which slowly but surely got absorbed into every pore of my being, sending a delightful chill down my spine.
Exactly 45 km away, the other Mughal poem, this time written for love and beauty, stood the Taj. Its sheer opulence is overbearing, sometimes even intimidating. The Taj Mahal, a love story engraved in cold marble and precious stones (now in glass cases in the British museum) is awe-inspiring. This romantic verse was Shah Jahan’s epic tribute to his young wife, Mumtaz, who died in child birth. The king’s begum before death had extracted a promise of getting a magnificent mausoleum built in her memory. But isn’t love a spontaneous and unconditional emotion? The fact that the Taj was a love-on-demand made me distance myself from it. The cold, overwhelming marble structure made the unfriendliness of the Taj complete for me.
The grandeur in marble is opulent, dressy, beautiful, but it remains just that. It did not pull me into its past, like Fatehpur Sikri did. It left me admiring it for its workmanship and beauty; for its sheer size and planning; for its exquisite and delicate beauty. But Shah Jahan’s sentimental ode lacked the heart and soul of Akbar’s vision, his dream of a unified religion; of a cohesive nation. Taj lacked the warmth of Fatehpur Sikri’s simplicity and pragmatism. It only reflected the selfishness of Shah Jahan giving in to his dying wife’s irrational demand, and not the sensibility and benevolence of Akbar.
The gorgeousness and perfectness of the Taj is no patch on the honesty and friendliness of Fatehpur Sikri.
Indeed, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.