The Indian Scam saga

When I heard the name ‘Radia tapes’, thought it would be some scandal associated with radio towers or may be even import of Rado watches. For those who follow the excerpts of leaked tapes, the tapes are a self realization of how much ‘corruption’ has eaten into the very fabric that holds us together. And after Mrs. Tharoor, it’s the turn of another female power broker who roam in the political and corporate corridors to get caught.

I too have been left open mouthed when the scandal broke in. Still this wasn’t entirely unexpected. The scandal was some casuality waiting for us to acknowledge. But these tapes aren’t exactly bad news. They accuse us as hypocrites for our pseudo-socialism, pseudo-patriotism, quasi-democracy and corporate veneration.

Government is an unrealistic entity and what we see is an unequal struggle of classes. The common man has become too viable and voiceless. The media has sided with corporate and business houses to swing the decisions in their favor. The unholy nexus is never going to stop with a small leak. It has all the more evident that the machinery of governance is totally tilted to one side and imbalance can ultimately destroy it.

I am very well aware of the fact that ‘leaks’ or ‘hidden cameras’ no longer prick our consciousness. Moreover these tapes have vilified many venerated figures and popular beliefs. Brushing all these issues under the carpet and getting on with life is the next best thing for us to do.

A.Roy’s full text on the controversial talk she made in Delhi recently, was available in Outlook. I cannot fathom her thought process nor can I completely agree to her. But I appreciate her guts and resilience. Her words aren’t hollow. She has got substance in her.

The time has elapsed for us to differentiate between India and Indian state. For us patriotism is the soldier holding onto a gun. Development is the big air conditioned corporate houses, honesty is still Narayana Murthys or Tatas and enemy is still Pakistan or China. A few weeks back I read an MP writing out an article against Ms. Roy. For him the only way to develop the tribals is to throw them out of the forest into the slushy, dirty slums of our metros. Please note this is the viewpoint of a member of the ‘ruling class’.

What we need is not development but Evolution.

The commercial street

So I alighted into the Majestic bus depot. I have been to Majestic during the college tours, but I couldn’t recollect much from the landscape except the huge passenger’s bridge. Tired and hungry, I set out looking for lodging. The climate was cloudy and very cool. I managed to avoid the vulturous rikshaw-wallahs, nearly bumped into a hijdah and stood perplexed on the busy roads.

So I reached a place with number of lodges standing shoulder to shoulder. There were some lobbyists there too. Led by their coaxing, I chose one. Vattu’s only demand was ESPN channel (There was going to be an Arsenal match in the evening).
I settled into the dingy room with bathroom tiles on the wall. I browsed through the TV. Overcome by loneliness and sadness, I set out with my camera and bag unsure of where I was headed.

The Commercial street: (pics)
Some cheap purchases were in the top of to-do list. My good friend Zara had told me that I would be getting branded items in the commercial street at bargain prices. And the C street became my random choice for destination.

The good thing about Bangalore is you can easily survive without Kannada- thanks to the multi-racial population. But I found out that the typical Kannadiga is very much (and unnecessarily) passionate about his language. I got into a bus with a friendly aunty as the conductor. I asked her to inform me when my destination is reached. As reply I got a lecture in Kannadiga. I listened attentively to capture any similarity to Hindi or Tamil. In the end she waved her hands furiously, which I rightly interpreted as the sign to alight.

The C-street turned out to have two faces to it. The older clogged version where the goods are dusty and arranged in a mess. In the street parallel to the old quarters, you get to see showrooms of branded western outlets. Here you get the out of sales stuff for a discounted price. In the older side you get branded items too at even cheaper price- but rumored to be stolen/smuggled.

I spotted a mosque and temple in close quarters- a strange site in a communally high voltage place like Karnataka.

Most of the traders I came across in the old quarters were Muslims- in their round cap and long beard. They were least interested in bargaining. The ‘Fixed price’ board was hung over most of the goods. I came across a BATA show room with obscenely low priced shoes. There was a virtual stampede as people rushed into get whatever they could.

I walked around carefully, clicking pics when I accidentally stumbled into the more posh part. The shops were bigger, cleaner and air-conditioned. The sales guys were very cultured, English speaking, young and handsome. Even the crowd was different- with old middle aged people looking for cheaper stuff on the other side. Here crowd had cash and were looking for some outlet to burn it.
The shopper in me got excited as I saw my Arsenal colours hanging. I lost complete control and ended up burning the wallet for my siblings

The way to Bangalore

Apologies first: I have been inactive here for some time because the writing machine had to go to the cleaners.

Day-1
The pre travel hiccups:
The biggest challenge of the day was to get out of the office in time, as my train was at afternoon. As expected a totally unexpected issue came up holding me to my seat. Thankfully my friend Antony bailed me out by giving me a lift home. There I did a quick pack up and left for the station.

‘KochuVeli’ station was situated bit towards the outskirts. I hadn’t been there before and to make matters worse, a passer-by made a gross miscalculation in terms of the distance and I had to make a long walk with the heavy back pack. Thankfully I was well ahead of time and managed to board the train.

Just before the train started off- the first jolt came in the form a phone call from Kuruvi. Nikhi was suspected to leave the town that evening. Nikhi was the focal point in our Bangalore visit. I tried to reach him and there was no response. The mood started dipping. Towards the evening Nikhi’s pull out was confirmed.

There was a flow of disgust and shock. I wanted to get out of the train at the next station and go back home. Since I take my travels a bit seriously, calling it off pains me a great deal. And it is not the first time this was happening to me.

The person who might have salvaged the trip would be Vattu. He was unperturbed at the new development. That might have egged me to go on.

Lesson1: When you start off on something, don’t expect many to back you up.
Well then, I often wondered why old mates show very little enthusiasm when a get together is planned. Some thing I have got to comprehend is the life at college is over and everyone have got their own lives to live.

The train travel.

The train was termed as ‘Poor man’s chariot’. It’s a super luxury mode of air conditioned travel at a cheap price.

I was at my depressive self until a family boarded my cabin. They too were bound for Bangalore. Although I was in no mood for a conversation, I quietly observed them. There was a brand new dad with brand new baby and its mother. He belonged to the affluent neo-rich young IT middle class of the day. He had made a great living at such a young age, which was unthinkable a few years ago. So there was a certain sense of self confidence in him and this reflected even in his dealing with his parents.

His mother was talking to another women on the hardships they had to undergo growing two kids. The times when money was a hard substance to find. The guy was taking his parents along to his workplace, as there was no one to look after his new baby. And it seems his parents were not much happy about it.

The train pulled into the Yeswantpur station in the morning. I had befriended a lonely guy and made up a virtual map of the city in my mind. The lonely guy was kind enough to accompany me to the bus station, so I will not fall prey to the rikshaw-wallahs.

Thank god for the lonely guy.



The green rural outskirts




The city landscapes appearing

The Hay Festival

Have you ever heard of stars descending from the heavens into earth. This is exactly what happened in Thiruvananthapuram when Hay Festival happened.
The international festival was announced only 2-3 days prior to the event. So we were caught up by surprise.It was a pretty busy week for me with an impending exam. But I was so enamored by the glitteratti that I packed my camera and went for the event hoping to infiltrate without a pass.
The festival was organised by the super-MP, Shashi Tharoor. Although I am very much against him and his principles, this time I would(grudgingly). give him the credit for doing a good job The event was sponsored by The Week(the best porn magazine you can lay your hands on)
The celebrity list was awesome with William Dalrymple, Vikram Seth, Bob Geldof, Simon Schama, Jaishree MIshra etc .

I guess the TVM-ites were vary of what's happening. So there was no huge rush or stampede and the people who eventually assembled got a chance to walk through in peace without any major mishap.

So I got a chance to see William Dalrymple. He turned out into one of my favorite writers list after I read 'The Last Mughal'.I was astounded and at the same time ashamed(of myself) on his knowledge of India and its nuances.
I grabbed a book to get his autograph. Although it cost me a cool 400 bucks, it will beone of my invaluable earthly possession.
Then there was Bob Geldoff in talk with Tharoor. He gave the audience a brief view on the Africa, its challenges and his efforts through BandAid.He frequent use of 'F' word amused the normally conservative TVM-ites.

I also got a chance to attend the animated discussions of Simon Schama.

The audience was very elegant, attentive and since our people are invariably left minded most of the questions were of Anti-imperialistic in nature.The organisers did a brisk business in the book stalls, as people were too happy to grab a book to get the autographs.

Bob Geldff concluded the 3-day fest with his concert. There was music, smoke and merry all around.
I got a chance too see Sting from close quarters. It would be unimaginable for a guy far away from the western civilization to catch a glimpse of multiple Grammy award winner.
It was very difficult to photograph, since I was catching hold of the camera after a long tome. But here are a few tolerable pics.

Book Writing

The one thing I like about Chetan Bhagath is despite being a best seller he hasn’t sold himself over to the international publishers. This spares the common man ignominy of running over to the pirate publishers.

Thanks to the international publishers, book writing became a well paid, respected if not elite profession. Our writers were spared from writing out of abject poverty. Every second day you see an IIT/IIM getting enlightened and giving up their career for writing.

But this art has become so myopic & over-marketed. We have clearly lost legends in this profession. If your books are able to make into headlines, then you are a great writer. To make matters worse we have got nothing other than temperamental relationships as subjects in our books.

There has been a shift of writers from the rural background to the cities. So the literary works is done keeping the metro-sexuals in mind. The cover binding would be good. The price sticker would be a horror. But the internal content would be rotten.

Have you heard of ‘Shobha De’? She is termed as one of the biggest writers ever. I have gone through a couple of book of hers. The quality could beat a sleaze story. Only added attraction is irrespective of sex ,age everyone will have sex with everyone else in her novels.

In medieval era only the elite could own books as it was costly. Judging from the price stickers of the new releases I believe, history is going to repeat itself. I happened to go for a book exhibition and got myself shocked on the prices. I happen to spot a ‘Penthouse’ section and ran towards it. The bastards wouldn’t even allow us to have cheap pleasure. I could get it at 1/4^th price from a pirate.

Obama Da Gama

My eyes popped out when I read the headlines- Obama announces 44000 crore rupee deal. Finally the Santa Claus had arrived. I eagerly browsed through The BusinessLine. My surprise turned to amusement. It seems we are going to buy stuffs worth the above mentioned amount from US companies. I remembered a sailor who landed in India long ago Vasco Da Gama. This time it’s a different person with different colour. Just like the old times it’s the doyens of Indian industry, in the place of local rulers, who eagerly welcome the rich foreigner.

I can’t blame him though. He came into power proclaiming lots of change and I guess it’s his senate that has changed in the mid-term election. And Obama is desperate to get a claim of something of his own for the re-election. But he doesn’t have to worry even if he lose his re-election. He has already sold many books and t-shirts.

Till the moment I write this post, India hasn’t got anything significant out of his visit. But the channels are eagerly lapping up every move, words and dance steps of the King of the World. His best friend Manmohanji & Co. is eagerly waiting for him in Delhi.

One thing I like about him is he hasn’t given us any false hopes. The people who did so were the fat beauracrats of Delhi. Even after all these years I wonder when will India get an independent foreign policy. I respect the leaders of smaller countries who live with a solid spine.

I just happened to watch bits and parts of his show down at St.Xaviers. The future entrepreneurs of India were given an opportunity to question him. The young guns came up with questions like his take on spirituality. God, you have a multitude of questions to ask the president of US and this is what you manage to come up with? If this is what we get out of the Youngistan, there is seriously a problem somewhere.

Mandate

After the gym I cycled my way to the election booth. The excitement witnessed in the last elections were missing.

The last elections were over marketed with the help of a few film and sports personalities. They cajoled and coaxed the youth to take part in the election process. Voting was the hip phenomenon of the season. The young guns came into power. But we soon found out it was still the old wine in the new bottle. People became all the more disillusioned.

As this was the local elections the candidates had the freedom to concentrate on smaller areas. They were lined up on the way to the booth. Today they were destined to stand under the baking sun with a smile plastered to their faces.(They were bound to be silent as canvassing was strictly prohibited for the day)
Despite all these years of enlightment, ‘Caste’ is something that determined the candidate. Normally in our area it’s the war between ‘Nairs’. The caste name would be written and highlighted in bold across the walls and posters. In local elections the population is little more diversified and hence caste can’t assure victory.

I have been an eternal believer of the Indian mode of governance. But judging from what we have been seeing around for some time our system sides with the majority. And these majority are so corrupted that their opinions can be brought even without their knowledge. This system that sucks the life blood out of few cannot last long and we are doomed to anarchy.
The reason why I cast my vote is, to slow down our destruction. As I look around I don’t see many people I saw the last time. Today just the 10% of votes are going to be enough for victory. I heave a sigh as I press the red button.