Incessant Inker

An Affair of States

2012-01-29T09:24:00.001+05:30

The unity of this country is bound by a shimmering gossamer that belies its fragility.

How often do we read of a community insisting on elevated benefits that separate them from the diaspora that inhabits this country. How frequently do we find the leaders of this democracy advocating selective "equality" to bridge the unequal gap, further distanced due to this policy of duality.

Marginalization of the common man is not the solution to uplift the socially unequipped. But it surely breeds the inept from both stratas. The common turn reclusive and the disabled turn disinterested towards progress that is fueled by the spirit of competition. An old but relevant adage that captures the essence of the situation is "Give a man fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime".

We continue to dole out fishes to a cluster who are now waiting to be spoon-fed rather than using their skills to help themselves.

The classic division between the have-some, and have-not is not diminishing but rather interpolating. The have-not are gaining the ability to afford without the skill to appreciate. The have-some drain themselves constantly into a set of need-some-more. And the have-all continue to exploit the system to engorge their ever expanding hunger for more.

This is definitely a troublesome phenomenon for a country looking to proceed into the future. While the past impacts the present, it should not design the future.

We need to disengage ourselves from our idealistic vision of a utopian state with equality of resources and embrace the reality of equality of opportunities that extends across the national demography. Quotas should be out-quoted by achievements. The policy to squeeze and seclude should be replaced by increase and include. We need to enforce clarity towards a set of goals that include our strength in numbers while reducing the pitfalls of our inability to manage these numbers.

To achieve success in our 2020 mission we need the clarity of 20/20 vision.

Coke Studio: Music Across Messy Borders

2011-07-31T18:29:00.000+05:30

On a hazy drunken night at a dear friend's place one of the co-inhabitants of that apartment turned DJ and flipped open his Mac to dish out tunes to an already mellow gathering.

The first song that he played was 'Aankhon Kay Saagar' by Ali Zafar. It was a soulful rendering of heartwarming lyrics with the score to match. No razzmatazz, no gimmicks, just pure music. It altered the state of the room from hazy to wispy. Each listener hanging by the tendrils of Ali Zafar's voice dishing out his best.

Much to the room's delight the next song was Garaj Baras, a mash of Ali Azmat and Rahat Fateh Ali Khan that rocked my boots of my feet, as the expression goes. What was outstanding was Rahat during his solo piece within that number. Pure bliss.

The room was looking forward to more of this epic session of music that was transcending tastes, genres, and borders. It felt like music close to home.

At the end of the evening I was looking out for more of this. Coke Studio Pakistan was my music mecca. I visited the site ever so often and with them providing downloads to all their sessions then, I had Coke Studio music on my music player and computer every single day.

A year and over later I heard Coke Studio coming to India. I was looking forward to this like a junkie waiting for his next fix. Much to my dismay, my work kept me away from Episode 1 of the desi version. But the moment I could I logged on to the site to listen to what we could muster up against the greats that benchmarked this amazing initiative I did.

And I was crestfallen.

From the multitude of talent we have to showcase all we could come up is a fusion of music that made little sense to me. There was little of the mellow stuff that one could curl up in the den and listen to over a glass of evening spirits. This was more of the rapchik, dhinchak music that has been popularized in the auto-rickshaws of the country. The music was very jhankar type.

Aghast, I tried to listen to more to perhaps clear my initial confusion. This did not truly help the situation. Other than Tochi Raina there was nothing spectacular to write about or hear a second time. The stalwarts like Kailash Kher and Shaan paled in comparison to their counterparts across the LoC. As a female artiste I love Sunidhi Chauhan, but she too was not a shadow on the renderings of Zeb & Haniya. A classical qawwali like 'Chadhta Sooraj' could not capture my attention like the one done by the original Sabri Brothers. The only exception was Harshdeep Kaur with 'Hoo'. It was more on the lines of the Sufi greats.

What went wrong is that we have too much to showcase and we tried to mulch it all up. Instead of short but determined steps we took long unwarranted strides to compare, compete, and collaborate when we needed to KISS (Keep It Simple Silly) and make up. But maybe I am reading this all wrong. If we did want to showcase the talent across the length and breath of the country in a single offering this could be it. Do I want to listen to it repeatedly? No!

IMHO, Not all is lost. This is in fact the first year of our attempt at this platform. So there is time to amend our disastrous ways. As the adage goes, 'he who get's it right the first time over never learnt anything'. We will improve.

Till then, Coke Studion India, I switch over to Pepsi!

A Dog's Life It Is...

2011-01-26T01:42:00.012+05:30

Have you ever wondered why the statement ‘it’s a dog’s life’?

It must have started in the centuries past, where man and dog co-existed and hunted together, dog doing all the toiling and man just going in for the kill and could have meant working oneself out over little gains. But things are fast a-changing.

Today, in the urban lifestyle, a dog is the king of the crib. Ask me, or better still, ask Apache!

Apache is my Belgian Shepherd dog, jet black coat with a white scarf patch, six hind toes, and brown eyes that seem to soften the grim look he would have had they been the color of his coat. But that is not the best thing about Apache. It is his incredible ability to deter strangers through a guerilla tactic of hug and lick that deter even the most patient dog lovers and would be miscreants. More likely his ‘licks can kill’.

But let me not boast of Apache’s handsome demeanor. This blog is about my envy of his life. A dog’s life. And I want it!

Apache’s day begins sharp at half past whenever he wants to wake up. His wake up yawn is followed up with a few full body stretches that gets him ready for the next item on the agenda – become an alarm clock.

Apache has distinct ways to wake up each person at home. Me, he will wake up by licking my hand and letting me know it’s time to wake up and wash my hands before I touch anything! The rest are woken up by his gentle prancing across the home bundled with some non-stop clicketty-click footwork. Once all of us are up, the day begins at home.

Having completed mission wakey wakey, Apache’s next order of business is a visit to the trenches. Cadet ‘Patch is well trained to soil only where the soil can absorb and reuse. The morning ablutions are combined with his morning walk, an hour long with gentle pauses of catnip salad and ritual territorial markings.

There are those rare days when this leisurely walk is disturbed by stray canine hooligans who are dealt with severe barks, growls, and more territorial markings that would cause the Nile to dry up. The return walk back home is sprinkled with some gazelle-like bounding and hunter stalk and ambush with my shoes while I am wearing them. Seems I wear them out way to soon and it could be attributed to the Peter Pan of dogs.

Once home after the morning walk, Apache tanks up on water and chows down on a breakfast of pet-food or gourmet dog food prepared especially for him. A good breakfast meal is a heavy meal that straight up leads to a snooze.

Nap times are long and languid hours of nothingness punctuated with barks, scratches, and a few gulps from the fountain of the thirst busters. This is followed by longer naps and more of those distractions.

By midday the haze of laze subsides with a want of activity. A passerby, some chirping birds, joyous shouts of children playing, or even a breeze of wind that rustles the leaves is adequate to rouse curiosity. And that piqued inquisitivity is sated with some relentless barking and quick-pawed rounds around the house.

If it’s the children that caused this activity, it is further fueled by an exchange of canine talk between the children and Apache. I wonder what is it that the children communicate with him but he seems happy to be able to voice back to them in response to their initial discussion point.

Some more sleep followed with a treat of chewies (those doggie treats that act as supplements and seem to taste good as per Apache).

By the time it’s 6ish in the evening, it’s time for the evening walk. As all walks, this one too is greeted with some excitement and impatience. Every time the leash is brought to his collar, Apache responds by trying to chase his tail. I have no idea whether he wants the leash to be tied to his collar or his tail! Nonetheless, leash secured, we begin our eveninger. A walk by the sunset. A walk by folks returning home. A walk by the mornings poop stop. Stinky doobidy doo.

On the return, there is some chase the legs game. Apache tries to stalk and hunt my legs while I try to hurdle over his attempts. This is his favorite game and he can go through hours of this if he gets his way.

Back home, after that bit of exercise and activity, a bowl filled with water quenches his thirst while a dinner or soup with bones, meat, rice, and mashed veggies greets his pallet appetizingly. With speed and dexterity the meat is identified and savaged upon. Then come the bones alternated with the broth. Finally the rice and veggies go in grudgingly. And then burrrrp!

He is happy the day went well. Now time can be spent lying down while we watch television, unless there is meat for our meal tantalizing him to want some more. The day ends with the cliketty-click of paws heading back towards the bedroom where he occupies his favorite spot to sleep on, the floor rug. With a yawn and a scratch, sleep is welcomed. The eyes gradually blink out into dream state with yips and nips in response to the fun he has with his eyes closed and mind wandering.

So what is a day in the life of Apache? Wake up, clean up, eat up, sleep, bark and make a point heard, eat some more, more sleep, play and clean up, eat, and then drift back to sleep.

If that’s a dog’s life; give it all to me. I bow wow to it!

When Cows Get Crazy and Pigs Get Wheezy

2011-01-23T19:53:00.004+05:30

Cleansing Mother Earth Naturally of Virulent Human Progeny

Terra Firma, our planet is ill. She seems to have harbored an extremely copious amount of homo sapiens and does not know of an effective way to manage her bulging wasteline! Over the recent centuries (which is relatively not much time for her) she has tried many remedies but the virulent exponential growth of mankind has thwarted all her attempts to get lighter.

Since the beginning of the the eighteenth century there have been multiple attempts to curb the excessive growth of this single species of life. The the land seems to shrink for most forms of life, humans continue to thrive. No matter the extent of adversity, the species has inched its way across all corners of this planet and is threatening to consume the lands buried under the vast oceans to accommodate its unfettered growth.

The Black Plague was the first recent purge resulting in the loss of thousands of human lives. It was a clinical attack to stem the eruption of human ecosystem that consumes every possible natural resource and leaves graves of wastelands unfit for residence by any other kind of life form.

This was followed by an apocalyptical event every hundred years as a cleansing ritual that Gaia initiated, executed, and ended leaving the two legged walkers gasping for breath. Though our spirit broke our hormones raged. Each death wave led to a larger progeny being born.

The 2oth century has been the worst. Mother Earth has accepted the fact that an event every century is not enough to stem the flow. She needed something continuous, something omnipresent, something omnipotent.

So she brought on AIDS, a scourge that weakened the very defense system that the species rely on. This was an immuno-dent we inherited from our closest genetic cousins. It was a cloaked warning that the humans should have heeded to. Instead of evaluating our mortality we grew defiant. We searched for chemistry that impacted our internal cosmology and protected our biology. More than 25 million deaths was not a sign loud enough. We failed to read the neon billboards.

Next the lady of the land gifted us Mad Cow Disease (MCD). This hit our population of infants and toddlers most. Another sign from her to hold back on the growth of a single species. So we killed the cows!

Deeply disturbed with our ecological paralysis she presented us with wave after wave of natural disasters. Typhoons, tornadoes, and tidal waves on the coasts, droughts and bush fires in the vegetation belts, and hurricanes everywhere else. This was no one time warning. Rather a string of events dotting every continent to pock mark the earth.

Were we perturbed? Rather than pay attention to the oracles we were cultivating pigs for stem cell, vein, and organ growth. She needed to react. So the porker became kosher. We were granted swine flu (H1N1). Interestingly enough it takes on where MCD left, affecting adolescents, teens, and youth; sparing the rest of the demography. Thus really impacting those who can or will soon be able to copulate and populate.

What’s next? Gaia is in a hurry. Humans, if you cannot deduce from the signs, historically trend the past! We need to flat line our ever-burgeoning growth. We are looking to reach 7b in the next one year. If it’s children that we love, adopt. But if it’s just about bloodline, there may be none left soon!

Bloody Binds and Watery Bonds

2010-12-29T23:38:00.000+05:30

"Blood is thicker than water" is a commonly used phrase that most of us have used at some time in our lives. But as common its usage is, so uncommon is the philosophy behind it.

As I decided to overcome my raging hatred towards that individual and do the right thing, I was conflicted with thoughts of anger. It was as if I was burning with fever and yet subjecting myself to an icy shower. My mind began reacting in a confused manner unable to process the quick change of stance from hatred to concern.

Determined to make it to the wake, I mustered up the courage I needed to walk up to the objects of my despise as the subject no longer existed. With his passing away, his death robbed me of a reason to hate. Left behind were the ashes of a fire that never consummated. Ashes, sprinkled on rocks and boulders, laying claim to the person that was; still marking his domain. All I could do is sweep the grey-white powder that signified my anathema, looking at the rocks afresh with new purpose.

I walked up to his wife and offered my condolences to her in consolation while she whispered that she never stopped loving me. I am unable to give her a better personification than being his wife. It still needs to sink in that she is my aunt. I hushed her. There were going to be other times to have this conversation. She extended her arms to hug me. I relented, at first, thinking of it as a cursory obligation to fulfill.

But as we hugged, a new fire lit inside of me. A fire that signified care, belonging, hope. What was meant to last a few brief seconds turned into a warm minute. I transported in time to the joys I had experienced with her when I was a child. All the fun and frolic, the outings, the movies we saw. Those were good times. And she was a part of not just my anger in the recent past but of the happiness of an earlier past.

I think I made the right decision to make this trip. The moment was precious, one to cherish. But will it sustain is something I need to evaluate. Was it her mournful loss that made me tender towards her or will the ire truly metamorphose into a different and positive emotion is still a question...

The Death Of A Cause

2010-12-28T03:12:00.000+05:30

Just got the news that a member of the extended family passed away. God rest his soul.

This person, in his lifetime, singlehandedly redefined a part of our future. He took us from our moderate means and pushed us down to morsel measurers. I grew up with a burning hatred for him that turned into an intense level of disassociation with all of his family.

And now he is no more.

It definitely does not reverse the past. But what does it do to the future. While he awaits his judgement should I continue to maintain my emotion with no cause anymore? Or should I treat him and his wrongdoings as bygones and progress further from an emotion with no release...

This is a defining moment in time. One where I can either put all the past behind me and come to terms with the present and future or I can continue glooming into what was and disengage with what could be.

I have a cousin out of this relationship. I don't know whether to acknowledge him as an individual or treat him as the next of kin and pass onto him the mantle of my hatred.

With his passing away, God rest my soul.

Love Cola - There is only so much in every bottle

2010-12-17T17:44:00.000+05:30

Love energy (corny but go with me) is like fizzy soda... a newly dispensed can has pent up bubbly bottled in, waiting to let lose. Once out and it has proven it self, there is no more to go around until you buy the second can.

The pure enthusiasm of fresh love makes people do crazy things, just to prove the intensity of their emotion or the ferocity of their passion. It's a drug that shoots through your brains shorting the synapses and fuzzing your personality into doing things you never would.

And then the ebullience quickly fades away with every use of the pepper spray of zealousness. All that is left behind is normalcy. Rational decisions. Weighted discussions. Plateaued relationships...

The Groaning Drones That Clone

2010-04-18T11:24:00.000+05:30

The 18th century is one of great reckoning for the human race. It is then that stalwarts like James Watt and Samuel Crompton who dreamed of going beyond the confines of human limitations. They devised methods of compounding limited intellect with compartmentalization to produce mass scale.

Each blue collar employee had one great fault. It could not combine efficiency with speed to produce effectiveness. There was a payoff between the two and either one had to be compromised to effect the other.

The industrial revolution changed that formula. Speed and quality were now directly proportional to each other rather than inversely. This was the game changer that took us from bullock carts to mechanized cars. Each single worker focussed on a task or function leading to specialization. Different such functions created an optimized process. A hive of such processes created an efficient factory of effective cost benefit ratios.

The job of the white collar was now devoted to mind rending while the blue collar was limited to muscle bending. The executives created the processes that employed standard procedures. These procedures were then drilled into the shop floor to bring about uniformity. Workers wore uniforms and worked in uniform with their colleagues to mass produce goods for consumption that had homogeneity in dimensions, be it size, smell, taste, feel, or use.

But in this cycle of repeatability and reproducibility a critical natural skill was forcibly suppressed. Personal creativity lost out to cluster confined commerciality. What was created is a workforce of drones programmed to run mechanically from clock-in to clock-out employed to run the same job at the same interval to produce the same output.

Today, the 21st century reveres the spinning mill tenets. Competition has created a need for cost-effective environment where all functions and their underlying processes are industrialized. Every task, job, and interaction is scripted for efficacy. The mantra has crossed the border of product manufacture into the realms of services and non-tangibles. Personalization is a cost factor and so is creativity. Yet organizations seek ways to vault over their competitors. How can they create new winning formulae without innovation. And how can innovation occur without creativity? And how can creativity flow from a mindless workforce employed for efficiency?

How can the groaning drones running jobs involving cloned processes to expel planned outputs ever create a new way of being? Do we dare think or just go about doing our jobs?

When Love and Hate Collide

2010-04-17T20:06:00.000+05:30

Have you ever experienced the feeling of two intense conflicting emotions within you collide against each other sinking you into a vortex of immesurable ache?

There is probably no way to describe the feeling but I do draw a parallel of it to a star-burst causing a black hole where all pleasantness, positivity, and pristineness get sucked in and all that is left behind is fragments of unwanted bitterness scattered about swirling around, reminding you of your destructed self.

The more you think of it the more you get dragged into this quagmire of pitch black, a cesspool of slickness that pulls you in, sucking the life breath out of you. This is not depression, not pain, not hurt. It is the unsurmountable ache in the core of your being that wrenches out of you any hope, any faith, any belief that you take comfort from.

But why does that happen? When love and hate collide, why does the positive and negative not balance out the equation? Why does hate dissolve the love and leave back a distasteful miasma of pith that is unending to surmount.

While you battle the swirl, do try to pace out this quest so that sanity prevails.

Muted Media

2010-04-12T05:13:00.000+05:30

Haiti, Cuba, Turkey... what are these? Till yesterday these were names on maps, pin points on the globe that evoked abysmal reactions from scattered folks remotely associated with these places through kith, kin, wealth, or whim.

Depression, recession, regression, repression... what do these mean? Till a decade back these were concepts that exploited the pages of a thick bound economic text that lay waste in the far corners of a library seldom visited by anyone beside goggly eyed nerds chasing dreams of financial vital statistics in a desperation over the inability to score numbers within their super set of colleagues.

Hate crimes, racial wars, teen pregnancies, substance abuse... where did they origin? Till a history ago these were independent stray instances that got institutionalized in script and scene, text and score creating copy cat followings propelling an occurrence into an event.

What is the common thread tying each of these phenomenon together? Accessible media. Apart from the fact that each of these is a truth that occurred somewhere, sometime, somehow; there was nothing more to these. One day's discussion, the next day's faded memory. That was it.

Before common media became available to the masses calamities happened and made way for something else. News was a compendium of good and bad, joys and sorrows, remorse and exultance.

Today the front page news is a mash-up of all the possible social and natural ills that pockmark human habitation. Glad tidings are blocked for the even-numbered rarely-read pages of newspapers and fillers in the newscasts that rarely evoke any attention warranting a second mention or a follow-up.

The world is getting sadder each day. Mournful melancholy manipulates the airwaves. Everything that we are communicated with is an attempt to squeeze the tears from our eyes and discomfort from our hearts in order to get us to surrender our guilt ridden wallets in lieu of sympathetic experiences that we narrowly avoided.

Can we have more responsible media that reports incidents without dramatizing them into potboilers. Can intelligent media not be synonymous with gory media. Can we drink our cuppa teas without experiencing a tempest in the teacup?

Truth I Dare

2009-07-27T19:29:00.004+05:30

It started with game shows testing physical prowess. Next came the quiz shows testing intellect. It is now the age of reality shows testing our emotional quotient (and common sense).

But the single most absurd show to date is "Sach ka Saamna" a.k.a. the desi "Moment of Truth" trying to test moral fiber for cash. Isn't that an oxymoron already?

But let me not get preachy over it. From a pure cash flow perspective, the odds are simply insurmountable against the wins. At every stage of the game, one loses acquaintances, friends, and family against the backdrop of honesty. Damn, if you wanted to remain chaste, why did you do it. If you did do the deed, why not admit in private? And now that you have admitted in public, be ready to get ostracized. Make no bones about it.

So what is the win against the losses. The penultimate prize of one crore (does attract the tax folks and subsidizes your win post Income Tax, Gift Tax, Cess, and other variables) to a mere 54 lakhs. That in today's world is a 2bhk in a upcoming apartment complex. That's it! Or perhaps the game show producers knew of the ostrasization and calculated the winnings for a life cast away. Probably move to the dredges of society and live a life of hermitage for the deeds done.

So if you are ready to give up on life try the Smita Mathai concept...
Q: Do you love your mother-in-law more than your mother?
A: Yes (mother shattered)

Q: Did you ever wish your husband dead?
A: Yes (mother-in-law shattered)

Q: Did you think of sleeping with any man other than your husband?
A: Yes (husband shattered)

Q: Would she sleep with any other man if she was sure her husband wouldn't find out?
A: No (Polygraph shattered!)

No Gratitude for Alms in Palms

2009-06-13T22:58:00.005+05:30

It's the 9'o clock commuter rush. My car is playing musical chairs with the traffic signal to the beat of fm music. Focusing on the red circle that controls my path, I grit my teeth and silently pray for it to turn green...

Suddenly a knock on windowpane. No! A begging lady with an infant swaddled in rags draws my attention to her. Her face spells out abject destitute and the rest of her agree in unison. The child is bundled in a rag-bag tied to her side while he sleeps away the meticulations of his mother's ministrations. In a hope to evoke sympathy she plays peek-a-boo with her child and my eyes, switching between covering him up and displaying him for my benefit.

My heart responds with the emotion the lady wishes to evoke and begins to ache at the sight. My brain twitches into attention begging for me to retain attention at the red dot of passage. My body with its separate appendages leans forward to fork out a few coins to alleviate the rigor mortise my heart is suddenly heading towards.

One rupee is what I would have ended up giving the lady had it not been for the signal that turned green heralding me towards my destination and her lossful resignation. As I proceed forward, I cannot but help looking into the rear view mirror to ensure she reaches the sidewalk safely. A penny lost should not be the reason for other greater miseries .

While I reach work, the thought of the persistent lady, her baby, and my apathy keeps replaying in the dark realms of my mind. So I did not dole out alms. What did I do and not do in doing so? Did I deprive her of a contribution, a meal, a livelihood, or a fortune? I definitely didn't think so. Would I have felt a loss had I given her that coin? Again, definitely not. So what stopped me?

Was it the understanding that what she would have got from me and the multitude of others who have already or will give her their coinage would not be hers to keep. Rather it would be her ticket to continue work in this zone of controlled monopoly where alms convert loose change into hot cash in the wee hours of the day.

India: A Nation with States of Commotion

2009-03-30T22:21:00.003+05:30

What is India? Is it Mahatma Gandhi's insanity or Jawaharlal Nehru's democratic effigy? Or is it the personal domain of the palm-thrusting Congress? To be fair and equally critical, others too use this icon to their benefit. The saffron bandwagon parades this as their Kremlin. The benefit-seeking socio-impoverished front this as their Tienanmen Squared . And the aam aadmi hate it as their funerary.

India is the Ravana feigning to be Rama. With its twenty-eight states; each of different tongue, taste, texture, and tradition; mimicking the heads of a monolith giant, incapable of cohesive thought, trying to control its body. And yet the people of this farce of a nation believe it to be the next best thing to sliced bread of democracy.

Where did the freedom martyrs fail. Where did their united endeavour decompose into personal profiteering? What went wrong? Were they not taking example from the greats of history towards unification through mutiny? Did not the Ashokas and Chandraguptas of yesteryears do the same? Unite separate hamlets and kingdoms into one large juggernaut that defied foreign supremacy and local conspiracy. What failed now? With an illustrious past defining the path of success, and the dream of a future paved with scientific, economic, and infrastructural progress, the stalwarts of our independence forgot an important ingredient... singleness of thought and a thought of singleness.

How can a country have diversity in identity and multiplicity in ethnicity? How can we be one nation when each community is ruled with independent social mores, each state governed by separate common laws? How can India be one when there are no Indians. Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Sikhs, Kashmiris, Tamilians, Gujaratis, and Maharashtrians. We are a compendium of faiths, beliefs, idiosyncrasies, and histories forcing ourselves into an enclosure which belies our natural habitat.

But for the sake of argument, it may be said that diverse genetics brings strength in progeny. I beg to differ. That maxim only holds true if all involved have the same focus and goal. With each state vying for domestic supremacy against its neighbouring states how is it possible?

“Vibhin Bhashyam, Sarva Nasham. Akhand Bhashyam, Bharat Rajyam.”

Ancient India - A Modern Fantasy. Modern India - An Ancient Curse

2009-03-29T16:31:00.010+05:30

India is a nascent country, born from the womb of the British Raj through an illegitimate alliance between the Indian National Congress and the Victorian monarchy. It has other bastard siblings in Pakistan and Bangladesh and like most impoverished families that quarrel over everything; be it choice cuts of prime meat or the next square meal, India and it's communally seperated siblings quarrel over land holdings or resources.

But the quarrel is recent. India was never at war. India was never against communities or races. India was never threatened by social retardation or moral deprevation. INDIA WAS NEVER THERE!

A conglomerate of independent states united with the hope of joint military might against foreign occupation, pillage, rape, and anhilation formed the borders of a country called India in 1947. Nationalistic puritans and chronologically-challenged historians may argue that the seed of Hindustan was planted much before that. But 'much before' in the eyes of history is just a blink of an eyelid in comparision to the vast sleep that the people of this geographic region have been in. A sleep of passiveness in personal peril, incompetence in international relations, disillusion in domestic politics, and apathy towards active growth and prosperity.

So what is India? Is it Mahatma Gandhi's insanity or Jawahar Lal Nehru's democratic effigy? Or is it the personal vehicle of the palm-touting Congress? To be fair and equally critical, others have also used this icon to their benefit. The saffron bandwagon parade this as their maatrubhoomi. The benefit-seeking socio-impoverished front this as their soverignity. And the aam aadmi hate it as their funerary.

If one steps out of the pathos-ridden politics, it is feudary fencing that dominates the dailys. From Azad Kashmir Jihaadis to Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam. From Guerrilla Maoist Gurkhas to Kirpan toting Khalistan Canvassers. The fabric of this child nation in unraveling. And in the process, it is bringing out hate, violence, blood, and gore.

Another ingredient in the recipe for commotion are the 'holier than thou' religious fanatics. All of them preach the purity of soul and trample non believers indiscriminately under their soles as they march on for their Gods.

And with all this activity the common man wakes up to inflation, trudges to cost-arbitrage work, gets recessionary pink-slipped, pays inflated taxes, curses the defunct national machinery, drinks his pension fund in hooch, and drifts into a woeful slumber that rudely awakens him back to the drudgery.

We have failed in an attempted fantasy of democracy. We have created a Frankenstein monster from the deliberate offals of erstwhile monarchies. Each state dumps its toxic gentry into a cauldron of kingship that magically boils and bubbles into the government.

Romantics believe that if we exercise our franchise we can vote out the malignant tumors and elect sensibility. It is asking for magic from a lot that doesn't think too much before hocking the bovine-like chewed cud of beetel nuts causing blotches of blood-like stains on the face of their motherland like a virulent strain of smallpox fated to last forever.

Mera Bharat Mahaan Kahaan?