Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Not a very short story


Palani got out of his car and ambled in, with measured steps befitting a head of the village.  The train station was unusually bustling with activity, he thought, compelling him immediately to exercise the grey matter. He otherwise kept that material snugly dormant, saving it for use at a more opportune moment, should one come about in the distant future.  Given a choice, he would have preferred to keep in its pristine form, unused and fresh.  If the railway authorities had a device for measuring the bustle, he would have been notified that it was three times the annual average on this specific, sunny day, with supporting data.  Ignoring percentage increases, which were clearly beyond his ken, Palani could discern that there were nine other individuals on the platform, including the station master, who made earnest attempts to be on hand whenever a train passed through, despite all his other extraneous engagements. And that was at least eight too many overall, in Palani's opinion.

He knew at least one villager came for each train, as a rule, to pick up some visiting menace from the city and had provided for that. He also knew that Bala (as was the village practice, this name would never be mentioned by this author after this occasion; he was known as and called Uncle by this and all the neighbouring villages) that resident maniac with a brain bubbling like a sulphurous geyser in a seismic zone, with almost no avenue to channelize that energy, came there every single day for this train.  Not that anyone came visiting him ever; he just liked looking at the train daily, especially the engine and waving at the passengers as it departed.  After that he performed the routine of a pow-wow with the aforesaid villager who had picked up the visitor (Uncle called this the `juice extraction process'), with a view to ascertaining the circumstances of the visit and other related facts.  Then Uncle chatted with the station master with his typical avuncular zeal for the personal welfare as well as professional development of the latter. Since station masters kept changing every six months, none of them realised that the motivation for Uncle's solicitude was that lovely cuppa that came to the station master's office at that specific time and the newspaper that arrived by that train daily.

But today, Palani observed with an electrifying quiver running up his spine, that most of the station platform was taken up by the massive presence of his village nemesis Mani, retired from the Indian Army.  Mani was built along the lines of a stone column in a 11th century temple - dark, with a generous coat of some smelly oil on his body, without any clue to the observer as to whether the oil was being imported into or exported from his body; sporting a fragrance very similar to the ambient one in ancient temples where bats have resided for centuries.  Mani also nurtured a healthy crop above his upper lip, the bushy salt and pepper growth on either side twirled into shape daily with more oil .  For some strange reason, the creator had provided for some extra nooks and crannies in his face, resulting in the impression that this countenance has undergone extraordinary weathering changes or maintenance repairs.  All in all, he was a forbidding presence.  He was well aware of this most salient feature of his personality and never failed to use the fear his physique instilled in people,  to gain the upper hand in his dealings with others.  But, while God blessed him in this respect, He seems to have bypassed Mani, while doling out the usual quota of brain.  As a result, Mani was all brawn and very little brain, a huge chink very few villagers exploited, not on ethical grounds, but due to the intimidating brawn factor.  Unfortunately, Mani refused to acknowledge this shortcoming of his and tried to substitute what he did not have with an extra dose of what he possessed in ample quantities, which process made for a vicious cycle.

Palani was wondering why Mani and his cronies were congregated in the unlikely environs of the railway station. Did it have anything to do with the last mild disagreement the two had regarding the annual temple festival, provoking a melee in the main street of the village between the followers of the two worthies? Then it came to him in a blindingly inspirational flash that Mani's son was studying in the city and probably he was also coming home for the holidays, just as his own daughter was.  This realisation made Palani breathe a bit easier, for, otherwise he was very clear that a small railway station was not a bush in which two robins like them could co-exist for any length of time!

Even as the turbulence in Palani's anxious mind was easing up, the daughter he was thinking about, Padma, was displaying signs of severe stress, as her destination drew closer.  Usually, the tingling anticipation of seeing her parents and other friends made her beautiful face light up with radiance as the train neared the village. But this time, she was fidgety, as nervous as a first timer waiting for her turn to walk the fire-pit during the temple festival.  The reason for the stress and nervousness was sitting right next to her on the train - Subbu, son of Mani.

Padma and Subbu had known each other all their lives, studying in the same schools and now in the same college in the city.  This continuing proximity for the best part of their lives had gradually changed their friendship to love and both were contemplating informing their parents about their desire to marry during this vacation at home.  This has been prompted by the decision of the Palani family to get Padma married in the next year or so, since she would be completing her graduation.  While Padma was tense about the reaction of her parents, she was prepared for the disclosure, whereas the male of the species in this drama, Subbu, was a mental wreck thinking of facing his father with this hitherto undisclosed information.  Padma had come to the conclusion that she would have to somehow manipulate the information flow towards Mani and his wife, because Subbu had seemed absolutely incapable of delivering these tidings.  That made her doubly nervous; but she was still in a better state than her companion, who was almost ready to hide in the toilet of the train and give his village a good miss for the rest of his life.  People who had seen Subbu grow up (many would actually question the accuracy of this statement, but the fact that he was physically grown-up was there for all to see and was therefore beyond dispute, this author would like to submit) would not have been surprised by such lily-livered behaviour and they genuinely sympathized with the youngster for his misfortune in having two rare specimens for parents.

Now, this scribe would be doing grave injustice to his readers, if all things were not put into perspective.  This is as good a time as ever, he avers.   Palani and Mani were themselves classmates and also soul mates when they were children.   They were what the Americans would have called `joined-at-the-hip' for a long time, till that fateful day when they were about sixteen or so,  a few days prior to the closure of their high school.  It was that time at dusk, when vision tends to get blurred a bit and even the most gifted visionaries and seers wonder if they really saw what they thought they saw.  Mani had a quarrel-based-on-principle with another friend regarding the quality of two brands of the mundane beedi which they were all smoking surreptitiously during the past few days.  Friendly jibes led to abuses, followed by fisticuffs and missives being thrown at each other.  It was the routine progression seen in all school-boy-fights, nothing new.  Palani's efforts to pacify the warring brethren yielded nothing and soon he was cowering under the barrage of stuff being thrown about by both the parties.

As would happen eventually, when people could not see what they were throwing and at whom, but still insisted on bombarding the general area where the enemy was presumed to be (reminiscent of American troops in Afghanistan), disaster struck soon.  Mani had launched two round, semi-soft handfuls of something warm and being a good marksman, scored with both; rather, to be exact, he hit with both, but not the intended enemy; one had hit, of all objects around, Palani himself and the other homed in on a relatively new and absolutely blameless entrant into the theatre of war.  This unwitting stranger who got it smack in his face was none other than the headmaster of the school, who was strolling home after a very torrid day in office, which had drained from him all the milk of human kindness that usually flows through headmasters.  To boot, he was sleep-deprived, because some overdue reports had robbed him of his one-hour siesta in the afternoon; so he was already in a sinister mood.  More unfortunately for the boys, the headmaster was carrying a good torch; that was his equivalent of Amex card - `dont leave home without it' was his maxim- with him and with a howl, he switched it on and deciphered another form close to him with similar substance masking the face.  After some effort at wiping what turned out to be freshly produced cow-dung from his own face, the headmaster proceeded to unmask the other person and identified Palani.

By this time, the actual culprits who were spraying the projectiles had vanished, leaving the two victims - one starting to assert himself with all his authority and winning the battle of unequals.  For the headmaster it was a matter of a jiffy to procure the requisite facts from Palani, who was anyway fuming at having been unexpectedly fed some reasonably fresh cow-dung.  He did not relish cow-dung for any meal and at that time he was not even hungry!  Justice was delivered swiftly thereafter because Palani, having blabbered something about beedis in his desire to begin his account at the beginning , had to come clean with everything including who the culprits were in a specially organized inquisition, with his parents and the headmaster leading the way.  The rest was simple - Mani got thrashed by his father on the one side and punished by the headmaster on the other, going through double jeopardy- if you will.  Mani never fully forgave Palani for betraying a close friend, so what if he stuffed you with cow-dung once!!  The latter, for his part, justifiably felt he was the aggrieved party and never again tried to restore the relationship to anywhere near status-quo-ante.  Being head honchos in the village, they had to interact from time to time, but it was always a bristling, simmering kind of relationship where a single scratch could produce a massive explosion, with plenty of collateral damage.  Intelligent readers would have, by now, grasped the reasons behind the stress experienced by the youngsters on the train.

Mani's physical valour has always been restricted to the external world; at home, he was the veritable underdog, with his dominating wife ruling the roost and everything else.  So, everyday on his way home from anywhere, Mani had to consciously undergo a gradual transformation from being the oppressor to the oppressed, so that the change did not hit him in the face all of a sudden when he was inside his home.  He felt that this cultivated habit had served him well all these years since his marriage.  Mrs Mani had a small physique, but she made up for the lack of size with her larynx, gifted with very strong vocal chords.  And she had more cerebral content than Mani. Now, some malicious neighbours may counter that was not saying much; something like a company showing a stupendous increase of 200% in profits, when the base was a measly amount.  But an author has to be impartial in his portrayal and this one would vouch that Mrs Mani could match wits with many in the village and stand on her own! Mani was mortally afraid of Mrs because the latter did not have any qualms about berating him in public for his faults and stupid actions, of which there was a continuous supply in the pipeline.  He was happy if the dressing down took place in private or if at all an audience had to be there, if it was restricted to his own son, Subbu.  Mani had a good reason for making this allowance.  He expected the son, with his college education and city habits, to miraculously do something and free the father from the clutches of his mother one day.  But ironically, this expectation did not prevent him to bullying his son whenever he got an opportunity, away from the domineering personality of his wife.

As the train chugged in to the station it first passed Mani on the platform and both the youngsters saw the village bully, looking as if he was in mid-season form.  Subbu had hoped that through some miracle, his father would have shrunk in size and his visage would have mellowed a bit and was devastated to notice that nothing much had changed.  He was still debating whether to implement his plan of using the toilet to hide, when Padma glared at him and said  'One week is all you have to tell your parents; if you dont, you will probably get my marriage invitation in the next month or so'. An ultimatum Subbu was not even in a position to comprehend, so it was as good as returned undelivered! With that, she got out of the train with her bag and waited for her father to come over.

Subbu waited till he had no choice because the train started moving again out of the station and reluctantly got down, to get the first reprimand of the holiday season from a hassled parent.  'Why are you ambling along like a lady?  Couldn't you have got down faster?'. With those warm, welcoming remarks, he shepherded the son to the waiting car - one of the two in the village, the other one being Palani's.  During that short walk to the car, Subbu's face had developed a more bovine look and he was easing into the accustomed routine of shaking his head up and down pretty much like cattle did.  This was his defence mechanism against any verbal onslaught of either of his parents!!  As he got into the car, he saw Palani's car passing them, with Padma looking at him directly in the eye, holding up seven fingers!  In his confused state, Subbu could not make the connection and was wondering what that signal meant.  Padma was just telling him seven days were all he had!

For a couple of days there was no sign of any eruption in and around the village, so it looked like all was well with the two families.  Actually, neither Padma nor Subbu had yet given any indication to their parents of what was on their minds and the latter was getting very comfortable with that kind of stable status quo.  He was wondering, from time to time, whether it was worth stirring up passions in two dormant volcanoes like his parents by bringing up the subject of marriage with Padma.   It was in this state that he walked into the local restaurant for a cup of the stimulating stuff and ran straight into the wily Uncle.  Even though the latter had not established direct communication with the former in the past two days of co-existence in the village, Uncle was perceptive enough to notice even at the railway station that all was not well with the boy.  The degree of bovinity in Subbu's face had increased in the last couple of days, indicating to Uncle a marked deterioration in the situation.  So, when he waved the boy to his table in the corner, his mind was made up -- here is a case which requires his wisdom-backed intervention immediately.

With the adroitness of a seasoned navigator, Uncle started in right earnest.  `Why are you looking like a calf forcibly separated from the cow?  Something bothering you??'.  Subbu sighed deeply as he lowered himself into the chair, even as Uncle asked for two cups of hot tea.  `Is your father still pestering you to settle down in the village after finishing college?'  Uncle asked, recalling the last known source of friction between the father and son during the previous vacation.  Subbu was weighing all available options.  He had to be very careful with Uncle because the latter was notorious for muddying the waters in his scatter-brained attempts to find solutions. During earlier confabulations Padma had almost barred him from involving Uncle in any  'loony venture' in this context.  But Subbu was also painfully aware that the village was not really teeming with smart people who had the mental faculty to grapple with a problem of this magnitude.  And time was running out.  So, over the cup of tea, he succinctly laid bare all the facts of his case and the onerous situation facing him.

Uncle absorbed all the information  like the veritable sponge and ordered another cuppa for further stimulation.  With uncanny wisdom not very different from Chanakya's, Uncle divined  that the two warring  fathers had to be brought together in amity, in order for the proposed alliance between the progeny to work.   `I see.  Difficult situation, indeed', he pronounced, with the same assurance Newton would have displayed when he figured out why the apple had dropped from the tree.  But, behind the facade, his feverish mind's creaking wheels were turning rapidly and it was no surprise that within a jiffy he had the outlines of a plan in  his mind.  `No choice, you have to save Padma from a dire situation and win the appreciation of her parents'.  Subbu was irritated. `I am in the direst of spots myself and you are asking me to save Padma from a dire situation.  You have to get your head examined by the vet'.  That was a clear indication that Subbu had his wits about him, for the villagers believed more in their vet than the doctor!

Uncle smiled sympathetically at Subbu and said `How about fighting with a few ruffians and saving her, when she is on her way back from the temple, with her mother'?  Uncle was always eager to test cinematic situations in real life and here he saw a clear window to be the director of a small but interesting episode.  Subbu was beginning to grasp Uncle's drift but had a serious objection.  `You know I cannot fight one guy; how am I to fend off a few of them?'.   Very valid, coming from the hero himself, who had a gratifyingly acute awareness of the self. But Uncle was in his elements and was not going to be denied.  `Dont worry about that.  I will set everything up with the bad guys.  Nobody will get hurt, but our objective will be achieved'.  Subbu had his own  doubts, but had to go along for he knew he could come up with no viable alternative at all by himself.  By the evening Uncle had arranged for some `town' youth to be part of his directorial venture and the enactment was fixed for the next evening, since Padma and her mother went to the temple every single day at the same time.  Subbu's bright suggestion that they should notify Padma of the plan so that she did not panic was shot down by the director because he wanted the spontaneous reaction of the girl to the situation in front of her mother to enhance the outcome.  That night Subbu had a series of nightmares of thugs relentlessly chasing and battering  him, with Uncle on the sidelines roaring with laughter and egging the thugs on!!  Whether it was in self-defence or there was some other reason we will never know, Subbu spent all the time between nightmares in the bathroom, cringing from imagined invasions of army of goons!  The next day he fared no better, but avoided nightmares by eschewing the horizontal position completely.

When the appointed time drew close, Subbu met Uncle and had what he imagine was his last cuppa before execution and then they both proceeded to the venue where action was to take place.  Uncle was a keen advocate of realism in movies, so it was no surprise that he wanted the forthcoming event to be realistic to  the extent possible. But he made it clear to both Subbu and the set of hired acting-goons that he did not want any bloodshed or injuries; this was a great morale booster to Subbu.  But when he actually saw Padma and her mother approaching at a distance, he started having entirely fresh nightmares even though he was standing upright.  He stumbled along, shoved forward by Uncle and just as he was closing in, the bunch of acting-goons put on their menacing best and started saying things about Padma and moving towards her from the other side.They were supposed to converge near Padma and commence the fracas when the hero was to do justice to the script and bash up the bad guys, thereby earning the gratitude of Padma's mother.  But fate intervened in the form of a sizable stone protruding in his path, as he made tentative progress and was almost in the midst of the other participants in the drama.  Even at his somnolent speed, Subbu tripped on that stone and took flight, crashed with a thud amongst his fellow actors and was so frightened he went into an imaginary coma. 

Padma, who could not clearly see what transpired, concluded that the thugs were beating up her loved one for some reason and reacted with previously undisclosed alacrity to take matters into her own hands.  Those who were blessed to be in the vicinity, as Uncle was, saw her in a new avatar that evening and were so overawed that they did not play any part in  what ensued.  Padma rained karate blows and kicks on  the bunch of boys and as we all know, the latter were neither built nor prepared for that.  They just packed up without waiting for the signal from the director and vanished into the sunset.  Subbu lay fixed to his spot on the sidelines, rendered absolutely speechless by the demolition job done by Padma and for a change, the loquacious Uncle joined Subbu in the speechless state.  Both just gaped at Padma as she asked Subbu if he was okay, without any trace of emotion as if the latter was a complete stranger and started propelling her mother away towards their home.  So, this particular enterprise mounted by Uncle ended up by not conforming to his script in any way.  That also meant Uncle had to dole out double the compensation to the hired actors, who were clearly told that they will not be bodily harmed.   They demanded their pound of flesh for the ironclad contract being breached badly and that too with karate blows from a young girl.

Despite all his violent protestations, Subbu was forced to go to the doctor for minor treatment, even as Uncle's brain was in a whirl, trying to see how to make the best of the messy situation on hand. Subbu kept bleating that Uncle should have accepted his idea of informing Padma of the plan, simply because it was seldom, if at all, he generated an idea of any sort and could put one across Uncle.  So, he was rightfully miffed at having been ignored, when he had something significant to offer.  The older man, for a change, was clearly on the back foot, but no one could keep a genuinely good man down for long, as we all know.  And Uncle belonged to that exalted category of individuals who always look for positive takeaways from fiascos and try to extract good thread from stones!  As Subbu was getting bandaged in a few places to cover the bruises, Uncle got the solution in a flash, much as the sun breaks through voluminous dark clouds.  This time he would not even share the plan with anyone but would see it through himself.  He asked his ward to go home with his bandages and asked him to pretend as if he has been injured badly and to say the barest minimum to his parents about the incident.  He sought to  convert the failure of the evening into a victory through some shrewd manoeuvring which he always thought was the hallmark of his plans.

Uncle gave time to Padma and her mother to reach home and also for the mother to adoringly explain the evening's incident in detail to her husband.  Valour being alien to his own character, Palani wondered where Padma got this trait from, but wisely desisted from analyzing any further.  While he felt very proud that his daughter took on a horde - yes, by the time Padma's mother finished with the tale, the simple woman had given the impression that there were a few hundred people involved - of thugs and emerged victorious, he was extremely peeved that the victim who was saved was the scion of his tormentor, Mani.  `What is the need to get involved in a fisticuffs with boys? And that too, in defence of that lout's son?  What would people think of you and our family?  I made a mistake sending you to the city to study' he grumbled to Padma.  The daughter was happy to note that her father's resentment was not directed at Subbu.  'On the contrary, Appa, you should be proud and happy that city education and environment have given me the ability to be independent in a lot of ways.  Would you rather I left that chap at the mercy of the thugs and walked off?  After all he is my friend too'.  And the mother extended her wholehearted support to that line of argument.

At this juncture, Uncle entered the fray. `Hmm, are you alright, my child?  You made quick work of those guys'.  Padma blushed and said `yes'.  Then he turned to Palani.  `You should be flattered you have an action heroine for a daughter.  She was just amazing out there.  The unfortunate part was that Subbu was actually rushing towards the guys who were teasing Padma to warn them off, when he stumbled on the protruding stone and fell in a heap.  If he had had his way, Padma would not have been involved in that melee'.  Now, Padma, her mother and father were all surprised by this revelation.  `Really?  You mean to say Subbu was prepared to fight those boys for the sake of Padma', Palani asked.  `Of course, that was why he surged forward without looking where he was going and hit the stone to fall in a heap.  Poor chap is badly injured and the doctor thinks he will  take a few days to recover'.  By now Padma's mother was all gooey in the true tradition of Indian cinema because the youngster got bashed up for her daughter's sake.  Palani was very touched too and felt ashamed that only a minute ago he was criticising Padma for going to help Subbu.   For once, his animus towards the father was drowned in the goodness of the son's heart.  Padma was wondering how badly Subbu was hurt.  Uncle said `let me go and check on that boy.  He may need some help and might have to be moved to the hospital in the city', trying to drive home the initial advantage gained in the exchanges.

Subbu was softly moaning in pain and his mother was fussing all over him. `What happened?  Who did this to you?  Tell me and I will  break a few limbs tonight' Mani was heard roaring at his son.  Uncle made his timely entry. `How are you doing, my boy?  You did very well staving off that many boys, I should  say'.  He briefly went through the scene of the evening's main event for the benefit of Mani and his wife.  `When Subbu was down and at the mercy of that bunch of goons, you know who saved him from more severe damage?'.  `Who?'
`None other than Padma, your friend's daughter'.  Mani rose a few inches from  the floor, as if something blew and lifted him up. `Stop your asinine prattle.  How and why would that idiot's daughter help him?'.  Seeing the opening and with his immaculate sense of timing, Uncle went in for the sucker punch now with subtle variations in this new version of the tale, aimed at enlightening the parents in attendance.  He gave Subbu an honourable exit route by saying that while his intention was absolutely impeccable, his execution fell short simply due to the intervening stone.  But when the boy was down and could not have fended off multiple attackers, it was Padma who came to his rescue and how!!

Well, by late night that day, Uncle seemed to have accomplished something well nigh impossible - some initial thaw in the relationship between Palani and Mani.  Like the true diplomat he was, he made the next logical move two days later by suggesting to Mani that his family should express gratitude to Padma by visiting the latter.  Mani initially bubbled up a bit at that, but when his wife exercised her lung power he succumbed like a lamb and went with the family to Palani's house.  The latter was simply overwhelmed by the truly generous gesture of Mani's family and by the next day the friends-turned-foes-turned-friends were back-slapping and recounting precisely that incident thirty years ago which caused friction  between them.  Uncle was, of course, part of the conviviality and he promptly suggested why the two families could not strengthen the ties further through the marriage of Padma and Subbu.

At the engagement ceremony, while Subbu was getting ready to slip the ring through Padma's finger, Uncle said `Wait, my boy.  Everyone, please get out of the way and also remove anything that Subbu is likely to stumble on.  We need him to stand upright for this'!!.











Thursday, June 2, 2011

Movie Review


This piece was written in the last quarter of 2009, prior to the commencement of the periodic infliction I regularly make on this unfortunately captive audience, in the name of blogposts.  I chanced upon this now and wondered why this group and posterity should be deprived of yet another dose.  So, here it is.

In the past, my routine prattle had never included a commentary on or review of a movie.  But, there is always a first and I decided to add this genre to my repertoire, after seeing Kandasamy (Tamil).  If you wonder what was it about this movie which provoked me to wade into unchartered waters (i.e movie review), let me clarify it was definitely not any extreme emotion like agony or ecstasy – the film was not sensible enough to evoke anything but incredulity that there are producers who sink money into such ventures and also that there are dumb and docile lambs like us who are regularly led to slaughter on the altar of such cinema!

When I found out that some rabid Tamil movie buffs in the community, undoubtedly in the mood for self-flagellation, were intent on watching Quick Gun Murugan, I hastily read the reviews of the movie and found out that it was best left in the theatres which we have neither the desire nor hope of visiting.  But who can contend with fate??  I very casually suggested to the group that we may want to try Kandasamy.  Someone demonstrated unusual alacrity in getting tickets and lo and behold, we were herded into two cars and taken to the multiplex.  It began well (am not referring to the movie) with a visit for a good cuppa, but I was startled to see the hungry look on  the face of some members of the group.  They were ogling -  no, not what you think -  at the foodstuff on display in the cafeteria with greedy eyes and the mystery was solved when the disclosure was made that the hurried departure from homes had meant their foregoing that nourishing, nightly repast called dinner.  We should have taken the cue and fed them before going into the theatre.  We collectively lacked that kind of wisdom and ignored their pleas for anything consumable; and that was the second mistake we made (those perceptive readers among you would have, by now, deciphered  what the first one was!).  Feeding hungry mouths at that time would have resulted in two major benefits.  We would have avoided some 15 minutes of the movie - a major moral victory for us, with commensurate reduction in the pain absorbed by us.  Second, we could have eliminated all the disruptions that followed during the movie in our vicinity.  As it turned out, I felt very dejected by the time we were finished with the movie, because the entire show was punctuated by people on both flanks passing various eatables to and fro, despite muttered objections from some of us.  I dont know about the others, but I felt cheated, not because the movie was great  and we missed out on parts, but because these extraneous activities impinged on the visual treat the director was dishing out, concentrating entirely on the backsides of various cast members.

I confess I am given to hyperbole and there is a bit of that in this, but let me assure that the movie showed us more of the leading lady’s derriere (dont rush to book your tickets yet, that part of her anatomy was dressed adequately) than her face.  Then I recognized the diabolical intelligence of the director in this choice - one could not but agree with him that he had a reasonable chance of making her emote a little with her bum and none at all with her face.  I think he achieved his goal and that explains why there was so much of backsides in the movie.  But then the director erred, grievously in my opinion, when he chose to extend the experiment and included a host of other derrieres (the hero, the comedian and some others).  That soured the pitch for even the most avid bum-watchers because there was only so much of this activity you could take in one sitting.  We had to put up with a cross-dressed hero wiggling his and the comedian --------- oh, let me not get into the gory details! There could be two other major complaints about the movie - that it is very long at 3+ hours and that at times it gave us a distinct impression of being in a zoo, what with the hero preening like a cock half the time and the heroine singing `meow meow poonakutti' or something as enchanting as that.  The songs were eminently forgettable and the comedy track, terrible.  The hero tries to `act' a bit, but then the director would have none of that; he manages to pack his face in a mask half the time, to successfully thwart any serious attempt at histrionics. 

A few days later, while we were recovering from this onslaught of a movie, I read some other reviews and was shocked to find hat it was rated, ahem, a success/hit.  One review praised the director for using technology to create the super-hero movie effect.  We saw a couple of laptops, some mobile phones, a winch and a whole lot of rope (to help the hero with vertical and horizontal movement a few feet above ground) and some fireworks.  That was technology?  Someone wrote that it was a great treat for the `youth'.  That bit was on the coin.  Surely this critic was referring to the same feature that caught our attention in the movie!!   In balance, my sympathies were with those group members who had to see that movie without dinner. Some of us at least had a good meal to brace ourselves before we went thru the wringer!!  If the producer is looking to retitle the movie to be in line with those seedy, Malayalam movies in the 70s, he can run a competition and would get a load of very appropriate responses.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Serial-Watching

It is pretty common to find that people now prefer to be home-bound in the evenings.   Blame it on `serial' watching.  I dont believe this is an isolated scene in one house.  Come evenings, a rather large sub-set of the population in India commences its diligent and untiring vigil in front of TV sets, going through a few hours of `serial' watching.  What seems to be a rather laborious endeavour, involves serially and seriously watching all the serials shown on the TV in the evenings, with short comfort breaks.  The language of the offering might differ and the degree of seriousness with which the proceedings are followed might vary, but one must accept that this `serial' business has managed to keep this chunk of population away from real-life shenanigans as well as other minor/major concerns for those few hours.  From time to time, as an entirely disinterested outsider, one tried to sit through a couple of `episodes' of serials to glean what the learning could be.  Here are some observations, with particular reference to Tamil language serials.


-- The advertised time slot for an episode could be 30 minutes usually, but that does not mean you are going to get great insights into the lives of family members in the serial for the full time.  About 4 minutes of earth-shaking events are followed by 2 minutes of advertisements.  So, you are very fortunate if you get some 15-20 minutes of the tumultuous happenings in one episode.  Some of us are likely to find the advertisements to be more entertaining and relieving, but this is not something I would admit in the presence of expert serial watchers.  Apart from commercial compulsions, one reason for this rationed supply could be that the director probably thinks that no one can take more than 20 minutes of his potent stuff in one sitting.

-- But the masochists that the serial watchers are, they clamour for more of the stuff.  That explains why they are willing to sit through 6 or more serials at one time.  It helps that one serial does not vary much from the next.  Actually, if they remove the titles and merge all the serials into one continuous show, punctuated by the immensely soothing advertisement breaks, no one will be worse off.  This is primarily because about 80% of the serials seem to deal with the same theme of families riven by problems, with similar looking characters and the same bunch of actors.  Unless you are a regular with the intuitive feel for the essence of the serials, it might be impossible to tell one serial from another most of the times.

-- It is sometimes so comical that even a seriously avid watcher is surprised by some occurrence. I have heard the watching-uncle, jolted out of his reverie by the entry of a character, blurting out, `I thought this guy died three episodes earlier and they cremated him; how can he come back phoenix-like'?  The watching-auntie, blessed with enormous experience and superior intellect, gave the usual withering look that erring parties fully deserved and testily clarified that the death and cremation happened in serial ABC, but in this serial XYZ he was alive and kicking; with no intention to fade away before he inflicts the full quota of pain on the viewers, as allotted to him by the director.  At another time, the watching-grandmother, afflicted with occasional memory lapses, was heard to wonder how the relationship between two people in a serial had changed suddenly from maternal uncle and nephew to father and son!!  Watching-grandfather had to gently remind that the lady was confusing two different serials.   This is the result of stereotyping, which has taken its toll and the same actors perform similar roles across serials.  I guess, producers and directors are smelling savings in terms of make-up, rehearsals, production time etc, due to this convenience. Having to innovate can be quite a taxing exercise; why strain what little grey matter we have when captive audiences gobble up whatever is served??

-- Another fixed feature is the predictability of the next scene.  When the daughter of the house elopes with a neighbourhood rowdie (all heroes inevitably emerge from this cluster, as you know), one does not have to be blessed with tremendous foresight to predict what would follow -- the shrill and sorrowless wailing of the mother, the high decibel declamation of the father, who delivers a couple of blows to the wife for not bringing up the daughter well (incidentally, women-beating is a permanent feature of all serials to such an extent that non practising men might feel deficient and unworthy of their status in life), the whimpering of the siblings hiding behind a bored grandmother (she had done the same scene in about thirty serials in the past) and the machete-wielding of the vengeful brothers -- these reactions seldom change.  A good serial is expected to have at least a couple of scheming women (villainy is no longer the male preserve!), who want to sport expressions befitting Marlon Brando in Godfather, but end up going through 30 episodes with the same scowl creased into their faces, not yielding to any other expression that may be warranted by the changing situations.

-- An intermittent or inadvertent watcher of the serial may be excused for the blasphemous comparison of the pace of the serials to a snail's progress.  Even if you watch a serial after 10 weeks, you may find that there has been very little movement in the story and you can fully grasp the goings-on.  A couple of characters have moved a few yards away from their previous position, but most of them are still rooted where they were, still dealing with the same sliver of a problem they were grappling with earlier.  I guess this is how the smart director keeps  occasional watchers also involved in the drama that keeps threatening to unfold.

-- All over South India, the traditional take is that evening (around 6 pm) is a very auspicious time, when  prayers are offered at homes after lighting up lamps. Times were when in a lot of homes, elders did not encourage uttering anything inauspicious during this time.  What are the same elders doing today at that auspicious time??  Sitting in front of TV and watching/hearing copious and non-stop wailing/crying of women in various stages of distress in different family dramas.   And the background music is so gallingly mournful.  This happens every single day, as if serials reserve the choicest of such scenes for this time-slot.  When I diffidently raised the matter with elders at home, all I extracted in response were baleful glares.  And that reminds me - there is precious little comedy in the serials, as if it is banished by design - the direct opposite of what happens in American TV, where sitcoms prevail.  I guess making people cry is far easier!

I probably aired my views once too often.  I even made fun of people when they were not watching TV, asking them to return forthwith since the channel is holding up the serial, after seeing that some people have taken a break!!  I had a vague feeling I would face the consequences.  I did.  One day, my mother walked in to the other TV on which we were watching a cricket test match.  She just glowered at me and said `isn't it the same ball, same bat, same bunkum that you are watching for the past few decades??  So what if the serials look the same.  To me all cricket games look the same too'.  With that, she triumphantly marched out, not even waiting to see the impact that statement had made on the gaping gentlemen in the room!!



Monday, May 2, 2011

What else?? Jana Lokpal Drafting Committee!

A number of controversies have erupted like blisters since Anna Hazare jump-started the near-moribund collective conscience of India's civil society, which has admirably adapted itself to living with humongous  corruption all around.  That number is matched only by the array of corruption cases and scams that continue to surface with alarming frequency across the country.  While the arguments will go on well after the last cow comes home as to the pros and cons of the process adopted by Anna Hazare and Co. as well as the outcome, what intrigues me as a common man is the glibness with which some people have put forth an argument as to why what happened is not good for democracy and democratic institutions.  One representative argument is that by going on fast, Anna Hazare had blackmailed the government into bypassing established democratic processes and having his own choice of individuals on the Drafting Committee (DC).

From where the man-on-the-street is looking,  political parties and politicians had all the time they needed and more, over 40 years to be in the ball-park, to bring about some meaningful legislation to lend teeth to institutions like Lokpal and Lokayukta; but they conveniently did nothing significant to improve the situation in the fight against corruption.  The motive is not far to seek;  status quo suited politicians and bureaucrats very well.  Why would even a half-intelligent politician/bureaucrat want to tighten the noose around his own neck, when the going is so good??  So, collectively, whether it be in the states or centre, precious little has been done to facilitate speedy and effective prosecution of offenders, and to deter others through exemplary punishment for those convicted.  At every turn some hurdle is being erected by people with vested interests, using some excuse or loophole in the laws dealing with cases of corruption.  A good example is the case being handled by the Karnataka Lokayukta.  Despite very impressive and thorough investigative work and proof-gathering, cases involving illegal mining by powerful politicians have been brazenly and systematically pushed back, until the Supreme Court intervened.  The whole idea has been to delay the process by stonewalling, until the next legal or procedural loophole can be identified and exploited to secure some more time to line the pockets further.  And our anti-corruption laws have been rendered so toothless that the offenders flaunt and strut their stuff openly, with outrageous contempt for everything to do with law and democracy.

How does anyone explain the phenomenal increase in the wealth of politicians between two elections??  The numbers are mind-boggling.  One politician in Andhra has declared assets in  2010, showing an increase of about 600% in his wealth in 4 years; and then, it looks like that number does not even account for half of the booty! When numbers declared are like Rs 40,000 crores etc, one wonders how can anyone accumulate such wealth in the span of a few years??  Unless, a big chunk of this has come from money which belongs to the country at large?

In this context, if a senior editor of a respected magazine states that what Anna Hazare and Co. have done is heap ridicule on the democratic institutions in India, the common man wonders whether this editor is off his rocker!!  Dirty politicians and bureaucrats are swindling the country;  same politicians are entrusted with the responsibility of legislating to punish corruption - a classic case of the fence eating the crop; they have not done their job in over 40 years because any change for the better undermines their avaricious ways ; the so-called democratic structures seem to have failed to find a remedy; now a new beginning has been made through another route and you find fault with that?; why would any right-thinking individual object?   It is not as if a legislation is being passed on the street; all that has been done is to ensure that the next edition of the Lokpal bill has appropriate provisions to plug all the holes, which have been deliberately left there to be exploited.  If the government had its way, it would have pushed this burning issue further into the background without any compunction; or it would have, at best, pretended to add a line here and another there to the legislation and left the core of the laws exactly as they are, so that the flag-bearers of democracy in the government continue with their merry ways.  This committee, with 5 people genuinely representing the interests of people at large, can counter all the manipulations of the 5 government sponsored members to ensure that some reasonable improvements are suggested in the draft.  Why is there such a furor from some quarters to this process, as if Anna Hazare is going to promulgate a new law against corruption?  After all, when the draft is ready, it will be discussed in the parliament, right??

I wonder what is being bypassed!  Democratic institutions in the country which were not performing their duties have been given a gentle reminder that they should wake up.  Why are some people shedding crocodile tears now, when all that has been done is to force those institutions to rectify the problem?  Would such individuals stand up and suggest an alternative route?  Or do they want the menace of corruption to continue unchecked until majority of the politicians decide they have had enough of raping the country, its resources, the public, have a change of heart suddenly and decide to pass a new legislation to deal with corruption?
It has been sometime since I heard such sanctimonious humbug from anyone, really!!

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Product Advertisements - 1

I have always wondered why consumers take the bait when products do `interesting' and over-the-top advertising.  I found out why.

Recently, I came across an advertisement on the front page of a national newspaper about an ayurvedic oil.  It proclaimed that the oil, if used to massage the fatty areas of one's body, will reduce body weight.   Having carried some excess baggage for the better part of my life despite all the physical rigours one undertook, I was tempted to resort to what seemed a pretty easy way out.  Massage and chill for a while and you end up losing weight - irresistibly appealing, right??  Wow, not bad, I thought and bought a bottle of this miracle oil - and I must admit that even as I was leaving the counter of the shop, I felt a bit lighter, not giving a thought to that leaner wallet of mine.

As is usual with all these things, there was a brochure, folded about 24 times very tightly, tucked inside the box, along with bottle of oil.  I was going to chuck it into the waste paper basket, the standard treatment meted out to such pieces of literature by most of us, when something made me unfold the paper.  That took about 10 minutes (I would suggest everyone does this in future because this exercise probably made me lose more weight than the oil would in a month!) and I finally had the sheet spread on the table.  Looking down, I was perplexed a bit since I could not decipher the contents.  The font was one of the smallest I had ever seen and was so truly unreadable that I had difficulty in even realising that I had spread the sheet upside down.  When I solved that puzzle and straightened it, I needed a magnifying glass to get going.  I probably lost another kilo in rummaging through various storage locations in the house to retrieve the required implement.   I went to work, with a view to unravelling the mystery that this oil was, by reading the brochure.  To begin with,  it mentioned some 40 different herbs' rather unpronounceable names and extolled their virtues, without really committing that those are all in the oil - devilishly clever, aren't they??   By the time I finished, it dawned on me that what I had just bought was probably used by Sage Agastya himself to stay lean and fit even after consuming full goats (like the one Vatapi had metamorphosed into) for breakfasts and light snacks!  No doubt, I felt encouraged.

I continued reading.  Now, the brochure started dwelling upon the massaging method to be used for optimal results.  Fair enough.  Who can contest such good intent?  First, one had to rub the oil on fatty areas and massage for minimum of 30 minutes.   Now, it is common knowledge that if fat men had 30 minutes to spare, they usually veer towards having another calorie-laden meal.  So, this is a brilliant ploy - take away that extra time from gluttons so that they consume less and voila, lose weight; all this, while they psychologically attribute this great result to the oil!!  But, in the hurly-burly routine of daily life, how is one to find 30 minutes for this??  Unlike other forms of exercise, in this case, unfortunately, once you undress and massage yourself with this oil, you are in no condition to make any public appearance, for obvious reasons.  That means you do the massaging and stay inside your bathroom for the specified time - not a very entertaining prospect.  The smart-alecs might now have a bright idea - why not have someone else do the massage??  Here lies the rub.  You must realise that the weight-loss potential is based completely on the assumption that you will massage yourself vigorously for 30 minutes daily for 6 months, nothing less.  The brochure does not allow any leeway in this.  The idea is to make you lose weight through the effort involved in massaging yourself - there is probably nothing to the oil, except a pleasant fragrance, to lend to the ambience and deflect your thoughts from the hard labour you would never have consciously subjected yourself to.  Under the circumstances, it is blatantly counter-productive to seek external help for the massaging process.  You see why generally masseurs are all lean and reed-like?  Only because they spend their energy massaging OTHERS and this oil `works' on the same premise - the only catch is you have to do the work yourself.

Other important pieces of information given in that brochure, which you normally dont read, are:  You have to be at it for 6 months without a break, use at least 4 bottles a month (quantity required is directly proportional to the accumulated fat in your body), and you need to give warm-water fomentation to the massaged part for another 20 minutes post-massage (i.e. more physical labour to make you lose weight).  If you are the type who can add without a calculator, you have already come to the conclusion that you spend close to one hour daily in this ritual, if you follow the instructions.  You also vaguely realise that something revolutionary is happening in your life.  The manufacturers of this oil have deviously persuaded you to do exactly that thing which has been anathema to all podgy men - EXERCISE, and you think you are losing weight because of the oil.

Now that I am wiser, I suggest a good alternative - take some warm water and do the massaging, you will still  get results and what more, you save the money spent on the oil.  In the summer months, though, this oil might be cheaper option.

The problem was that I read the brochure that came with the 5th bottle of oil, trying to figure out if I was doing the massaging correctly and wondering why I was not losing much weight.  I wish I had done that the first time around.  Clearly, I am not as good and honest a masseur as the product brochure demands me to be; so I concluded that I will never lose weight this way, unless there is an oil which permits massages by another party and requires only minimal physical exertion after the massage as in retiring for a good nap.  With this knowledge tucked into my mind, I am now back to walking (all those who queried where I was intermittently during the past 3 months - the answer is here....I was tired after the massaging process and could not indulge any further `exercise') and am feeling a lot better because I have time for my breakfast, am not spending money on the oil and best of all, am not being conned into exercising in any other way!!

Shall continue with the next product sometime later.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

The Vista Mosquito


Context:  We live in a gated community called Adarsh Vista, in Bangalore.  There is a lake nearby and also plenty of vegetation inside the community, providing for positively enjoyable environs for mosquitoes to breed and flourish.  We are experimenting with different things to reduce the mosquito menace and this is the scribe's take on available choices.  Also, the author has recently shed his Management Committee (MC) member position in the Owners' Association, after a year in office.
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I am thrilled to be writing a note after a long time, as a free agent, not fettered by the chain of a position of `immense power and authority'.  Not having to pretend that my statements are going to be interpreted as gospel by an adoring community, completely besotted with its MC members is such a big relief. 

Nobody took me seriously when I was writing all those official-sounding communications on behalf of the MC, going by the most trenchant of critics I have, who happens to be in-house. Believe me, I was the lone committee member to be impressed with the policy and process statements we churned out; my fellow members were wondering which planet I descended from, trying to convert every scratchy statement into a piece of literature! So, I am sure there is absolutely no chance of anyone attaching any vestige of importance to this message, now that I stand here, all authority stripped from me - like a veritable Samson who has just been to the neighbourhood barber.  I am counting on that in making these rather frivolous and gratuitous comments regarding our Common Adversary No.1 these days, The Vista Mosquito (VM)!

Let us consider the pros and cons of fogging vs citronella spray, the two choices we are mulling, in our fight with the VM.

I think the fogging exercise is superior in some very obvious ways.  It is noisier to begin with.  Usually, when the motor is started in your vicinity without the much-needed notice, there is a probability that the weak-kneed, infirm, children and senior citizens get startled. Only after the familiar roar gets going, the smile returns to the lips of the masses, their faces are uncreased and they nod their heads in complete understanding and satisfaction.  The noise itself, which is high in decibel level, should be adequate to scare the Mosquito off our turf.  But the fact is that the typical Vista Mosquito (VM) is fortified with all kinds of vitamins from the nutrients flowing into the adjacent lake, in the form of sewage.  So VM is probably the strongest of the mosquitoes
going around.  To boot, it has heard the same `fogging' noise, without any variation - this speaks volumes of the utter lack of innovation and imagination on the part of the service provider -  for a few years now and if you look carefully enough, you can discern the familar startled-bemused-understanding-satisfied look on its visage also, in that sequence, when the fogging exercise commences. You cannot blame it because during the day time it lives in the lake-area and frequently encounters the noise of jet engines roaring overhead or trains chugging along with all the attendant noises.  So, in short, `fogging' noise has lost its relevance and appeal, as far as VM is concerned.   It has become impervious to that noise part of fogging.  May be, the service provider can be woken up and asked to try a different audio effect.
What is more impressive about fogging is the white smoke it generates from the bazooka-like implement.  I can hear some anti-foggers muttering `that is actually a smoke-screen'.  Be that as it may, no one can dispute the fact that once the fogging is done in a specific area, it resembles a film set, fit for a dream sequence with top-notch stars from yesteryears gracefully gliding through a melodious song!! I am at that stage in life when chances of the tinsel town recognizing my histrionic talents (not that it is a requisite for actors today) are remote and these carefully concealed skills of mine will probably die unsung. So, whenever I go for a walk and the fogging begins, I let my imagination fly and metamorphose into a star with work to do.  This is enjoyment in a different dimension and  I invite the multitudes in Vista to partake of the fun.  Unfortunately, these billows of smoke also fail to deter VM, for the aforesaid reasons - simply stated, familiarity has bred contempt in VM for the smoke too. Looking closely at some of the mosquitos, I get the distinct feeling that they have also figured out the entertainment potential of the daily dose of smoke and are already preening like actors, doing a group dance. 

What about the toxic fumes, one may ask.  Do you hear that collective snigger originating from the congregation of VMs??  Reliable information is that infant mortality rate among VMs, exposed to the lethal fumes is very low at about 0.00025% and such cases are restricted to infants up to the age of one hour.  Beyond that, the infants are taken to a designer-creche in the far corner of the lake, away from Vista and given special nourishment from the lake and rigorous training to withstand to the ordeal of the fumes.  In short order, the fumes dont seem to scare the VMs.

Some very logically inclined residents are questioning the validity of the general objection to fogging on the ground that the fumes are toxic and it is a health hazard.  If the fumes do not affect mosquitos, how toxic can they be for humans, is their forceful argument.  They forget that we humans do not have the same kind of nourishment the VMs get from the lake.  Some sections of the residents might believe we also get similar dosage of nutrients from the tanker water we import, but that is another matter and for another day.

Citronella spray, on the other hand, is akin to a timid new entrant in an area where a bully is running amuck.  It begins with a major disadvantage in that it does not have the support system of noise or smoke to announce its arrival.  So, neither the residents nor the VMs really know whether something is happening.  The audio and visual impact of the fogging guy, like a ghost-buster (may be, he is under the erroneous impression that he is dealing only with ghosts of earlier generations of mosquitos?) holding his gun which spews impressive, white plumes of smoke is definitely unmatched by citronella sprayers who themselves walk around like ghosts!! Unless a resident engages in a short flight into one of the walls or bushes, he cannot make out if citronella has been sprayed.  And if it is very diluted (as our sleuths have indeed found it to be), it makes matters more complicated.  There is no smell and then we all know VMs have a field day, literally.  Now, I think citronella smells nice, but am not able to make out whether it is good or bad.  I wonder what happens if VMs, absolutely fearless and belligerent as they are, find the fragrance alluring and send out invitations far and wide to other communities of mosquitos in Bellandur, Varthur and other lakes to come and join the fun!! 

So, there you are, we are in a dilemma. Using some inside information, I can also vouch for the fact that `fogging' is far, far cheaper than citronella spray. If neither is going to work, I would rather go for the cheaper option.  I am sure you will agree that is indeed very sensible.

Incidentally, there was one night about 10 days back when the residents enjoyed a relatively mosquito-free evening.  I have confirmation that neither fogging nor spraying was done on that evening.  So, what happened, we wonder!!  I guess all the VMs were attending their own Annual General Body meeting on the lake, planning their onslaughts for the next year.  And I believe, the quorum requirement was met about 30 minutes before the meeting was to begin.  Well, you see, the mosquitoes are more disciplined than the community in the way they conduct their affairs!!  What hope do we have??


Saturday, February 19, 2011

Mr.Manmohan Singh

That Mr.Singh lacks the quality of leadership to govern a complex and corrupt country like India and also the spine to stand up and get counted when things go wrong were very clear even earlier.  What the TV tamasha on Feb 16th proved further is that he is a very confused man who is torn between his innate personal integrity, sullied beyond redemption by his political actions/inaction, and his enormous gratitude to his political masters, the 2Gs, without whose benevolence he would not have climbed to the pre-eminent position of the PM of India.

If it was the same Mr.Singh who was the governor of RBI in the 80s-90s, I am sure he would have resigned and gone home, if so much muck was slapped on his person and he had nowhere to go to clean it!!  Or even when he was the Finance Minister. That was because he was still quintessentially the good academic and clean bureaucrat, who had a similar job to do at a higher level, with the support of a PM (Narasimha Rao) who trusted his judgement in certain areas.  His breadth of responsibilities did not go beyond the familiar turf of Finance and he was comfortable in that. 

When Sonia decided not to take on the job of the PM, she looked around for that someone with immense personal integrity, with a proven ability to do a job at that level, preferably without too much grass-root support and completely devoid of political ambition and she had a prefabricated candidate in Mr.Singh.  It was easy for Mr.Singh to marshal the troops in Finance ministry and deliver what was expected of him, using his known skills and experience.   Whenever there was a conflict between his plans and what other politicians in the party wanted, his political boss managed to iron out the creases, convinced by Mr.Singh's position.  But, when Mr.Singh was made the PM, the dice got loaded against him, simply because this position is all about political skill and management and he would for ever be a novice in that area! Mr.Singh had no power or ammunition at all with him, but was being asked to fight a battle, completely relying on some backroom manipulators! I am sure Mr.Singh had his misgivings about his ability to handle this job, knowing fully well that he was completely out of his depth and had to depend entirely on the Gandhis to manage the hordes of power hungry and corrupt politicians.  The key difference is that as a FM he KNEW the job, but needed political support to execute, whereas as PM, he did not have any qualification for the job except that he was a trusted man of integrity.  The seeds of disaster were sown then.  Even though people were pleased to see a man of his integrity in the PM's position, I am sure many wondered how he was taking the job, knowing fully well that it was a minefield waiting to explode.  A misplaced sense of responsibility to the country and loyalty to the Gandhi family probably drove the soft spoken Sardar to voluntarily walk to the guillotine??  And loads of assurances from Sonia and Rahul G.

That Mr.Singh managed to ride the crest for 7 years without any major controversy can only be attributed to the good fortune of the Sardar.  I somehow believe that this has nothing to do with `coalition politics', despite repeated bleating from Mr.Singh.  Even if it is a completely Congress government, under similar circumstances, Mr.Singh would have been left stuttering for words, lost for ideas to quell the diabolically corrupt actions of his own partymen.  Simply because he is not a hard-boiled politician.  They say you have to be a thief to catch another and it is very true that in order to master the art of controlling other politicians, you have to learn to think like the tribe every step.  Very few can make the transition from a good bureaucrat to decent politician and Mr.Singh probably did not have it in him to do that.
I am sure his intuition told him when the scams began to break out that he should quit; I wonder why he did not do it then and why he is still there now.  I am sure that he has not been replaced, simply because Sonia still does not have a better and safer candidate and Mr.Singh's personal image is still in tact in that he is not being accused of collusion in the corrupt deals.  She still has some use for Mr.Singh.  What is unclear is why is Mr.Singh still putting up with this farce and doling out pitiable excuses for all the mismanagement and lack of leadership instead of resigning at the first signs of trouble??  He knows he has not been able to control the reins of the government, as a PM should have.  This has turned out to be Mr.Singh's Achilles' heal and inexplicably so. So, why?  Is it due to a phenomenal change in character of the once respected bureaucrat that has made him rather power hungry, disregarding all the humiliation he is being subjected to?? Has he really become a full fledged, pachyderm of a politician all of a sudden?  Or is it because he has been pressured into staying on, with the Damocle's sword hanging over his head?  Has he been blackmailed, threatened with being personally dragged into the corruption scandals if he withdrew from the scene now?  If not this, what is compelling Mr.Singh to continue, when it is clear that a whole lot of unholy things have happened in his tenure recently? 

Or, have we all made a mistake about Mr.Singh being a man of personal integrity?  Has he always been a `politician', but managed to conceal that fact under a carefully cultivated facade, which no one saw, except probably the Gandhis??   Did we make the wrong judgement to begin with, about this individual??  I intuitively feel that is not the case and Mr.Singh has not changed much personally.  May be, I am wrong.  But, there is no clear answer as to why he has not resigned long back, which would have been true to the character of Mr.Singh of the 80s and 90s,  if this onslaught on his clean image could be seen like a tornado in the distance!!

Artificial Intelligence

Confession - This is primarily meant for those who think Artificial Intelligence is something like artificial insemination or in that zone. ...