Friday, 19 December 2008

Biting the ballot


By Khushwant Singh

There are a few lessons to be learnt from the recent state elections. First, calls for boycott were ignored. The turnout was healthy, between 50-70 per cent in all six states including Kashmir. Two, elections were free and fair. There were no cases of booth-capturing, intimidation or bribing voters — a little free booze didn’t hurt anyone. It was as clear an example of people’s voice as we have ever had.

You may well ask, so what had the people to say? It would be wrong to assume that what mattered to them were how their state governments tackled regional problems, and issues of national importance were not on their minds. Or, that they were not influenced by what national leaders of political parties had to say. It was a mixture of both regional and national issues and leaders of parties were listened to before people made up their minds which side they would vote for. 

They were less swayed by class, caste or religious affiliations than ever before and more by achievements like the nuclear deal with the US, planting the tricolour on the moon, increasing number of cars on roads and visible signs of prosperity. Consequently, what Sonia Gandhi, Manmohan Singh and Rahul Gandhi said made more sense to them than what LK Advani, Rajnath Singh or Arun Jaitley repeated. 

All this, clearly, came out with the spectacular victory of the Congress in Delhi. Sheila Dikshit had much to display in the way of positive achievements — she proved herself as the best Chief Minister Delhi has ever had. Vijay Kumar Malhotra’s image suffered from his performance in Parliament. He reduced himself to being the cheerleader of the braying brigade that has almost ruined our parliamentary system of democracy. Millions of voters watched this on their TV sets and were appalled, especially the young voting for the first time. They voted en masse against the BJP. 

A parliamentary democracy needs a healthy opposition that keeps the ruling party on its toes. But it must rise above the negatives, nit-picking and focus on the real shortcomings of the government — the slow pace of development, failure to clean up the environment, little use of solar and wind energy, ever-mounting logjam of cases pending in the courts. And, much more. 

The BJP needs to be reminded that we are now about to enter 2009 and do not live in the middle ages. It must rise above the mandir-masjid disputes, stop carping about minority appeasement, lack of proper facilities for pilgrims etc. They are of secondary importance. Take the government head on over things that matter. What you need are younger leaders with a modern outlook. 

Or, you are doomed forever. 

Goodbye to all that 

The world media have been unfair to the outgoing US President. It has portrayed him as a brash, boorish, brainless buffoon who wrecked the prospects of peace in many parts of the globe. 

India has been no exception to the general trend of Bush-bashing. Now that he is retiring, I feel we should take another look at his tenure in office. Those who had pinned their hopes on the United Nations to maintain peace have been badly disillusioned. The UN is a divided house in which the smallest and the poorest of countries count as much as the big and the powerful. Moreover, UN members are known to gang up on ethnic, religious and political affinities at the cost of equity and justice.

Bush has been accused of waging a war against Iraq because America needed its oil. This is far from the truth. There were — and are — other oil-rich countries like Saudi Arabia willing to sell all it needs. Bush went to war not against Iraq but against its dictator, Saddam Hussein, who had waged an undeclared war against Iran for many years, annexed Kuwait and persecuted Iraqi Shias. Bush had 35 other nations, including Britain, to support the US intervention. When Saddam was executed, not many tears were shed over him.

America is at the frontline fighting al-Qaeda, the Taliban and other militant Islamic groups operating from the no-man’s land on the Pakistan-Afghan border. In both these countries, the governments are heavily reliant on America for financial and military aid to combat terrorism. The fact that Osama bin Laden and his mullah-minded supporters have failed to destroy Afghanistan and Pakistan is largely due to the presence of US troops and armour.

India’s relations with America have never been as friendly as they were during Bush’s regime as president of this country. He spearheaded the nuclear deal from the American side and Manmohan Singh did it from the Indian end. We hope to meet our energy requirements during Barack Obama’s tenure as president. We have much to be grateful for to George Dubya Bush.

No business like bad business

Four friends decided to start a motor garage business. A month passed without a single client because the garage was on the third floor. So the three converted the garage into rooms to be let out. A month passed without any takers because they had forgotten to change the signboard: ‘Garage tolet’. They did not give up hope and decided to ply a three-wheeler. They got no passenger. Reason? Three of them occupied the seats and one drove vehicle.

Saturday, 13 December 2008

United we stand, divided we fall




By Khushwant Singh

My son Rahul who lives in Colaba rang up at 9.30 pm on November 26 to tell us of the bomb blasts and assure us that he was safe. I switched on my TV. I saw flames billowing out of windows of the Taj hotel and its dome enveloped in smoke. I had lived close by for many years and was a daily visitor to its health club. I saw the Oberoi, where I had stayed a few times, surrounded by Indian commandos and guests looking out of windows. I saw the devastation caused to the Jewish enclave, Victoria Terminus, Cama Hospital and the airport. I was numb with disbelief. I had spent many happy years in the city. My first reaction was of impotent rage: ‘Hang the bloody bastards on Marine Drive and let the world see how we deal with murderers of innocent people.’ 


I cooled down and watched scenes repeated over and over again. They had no leads about the perpetrators. All I could gather was that they knew their ways about Mumbai very well, had been fully trained and equipped with the most lethal weapons. They must have also known there was little chance of their ever getting back to their homes. By the time I switched off the TV, the death toll was over 90, including two police officers investigating the Malegaon blast case. They also reported that one of the culprits had been shot dead. I hoped and prayed that the examination of his body did not reveal he was a Muslim.

Alas. He was a Muslim. So also were the rest of the gang. All Pakistanis. From the meticulous way the operation was carried out, it was evident that they had been rehearsing it in minute detail for many weeks, if not months, on Pakistani soil. Pakistan’s rulers have a great deal to explain to the world as the victims include many foreign nationals.

We should be unanimous in our response to the Mumbai attack. It has dealt a heavy body blow to those who have been trying to build bridges between the people of India and Pakistan. This process must continue. At the same time we must do our very best to put down those who are likely to exploit the murderous assault in Mumbai to spread Islamophobia. Many Indian Muslims were killed; all of them condemn it, as do other Indians – Hindus, Christians, Sikhs, Buddhists and Parsis. If we do not stand united in our reactions to what had happened in Mumbai, the murderers will have achieved what they wanted to achieve. We must not allow this to happen. We are one nation. We must give them one answer: to hell with you! You will never succeed in dividing us.

Do we need god?
Bageeshwari Devi is a disciple of Kripaluji Maharaj and principal spokesperson entrusted to spread his message abroad. Born in Mysore, she graduated from Mumbai and got a doctorate from Agra University. She was recently in Delhi to deliver a lecture at the India Habitat Centre on ‘Do We Need God’. She also dealt with related subjects: Whether god exists; Does he matter; what difference does his existence or non-existence make to us. 

Since I am no longer able to go out, I’ll try and get the text of what she said. Though I am not a disciple of Kripaluji Maharaj, I listen to his programmes on TV. Also, though I do not understand his ecstatic chanting of ‘Radhey,Radhey,’ what he has to say makes a lot of sense even to an agnostic like me. I also believe that everyone should find his or her own answers to the questions that Bageeshwari Devi deals with.

Do we need god? Most people feel they do, as he fills a vacuum in their lives. I am not sure whether or not I need him. At times I feel I am missing out on something other people have and I do not. Most times I do not miss him.

Does god really exist ? The vast majority of people insist he does; a growing minority do not believe in his existence. I belong to the minority — with the addition that I do not accept what is attributed to him. I am not sure if he is the creator, preserver or destroyer of life. If he is almighty, he is certainly neither just nor merciful because there is so much injustice and cruelty in life. 

I think the only honest answer to this question is to admit that we do not know. Nor do we know what happens to us after we die. All the theories about heaven, hell, re-birth etc. are pure conjectures without an iota of evidence to support them. I reject all of them and add that no one has the foggiest idea where we go after we breathe our last.

You may well ask after rejecting our cherished beliefs what is the purpose of life? Once again I crave forgiveness for my inability to reply in the positive. We live on because we were given life and have no choice but to go on living. Osho Rajneesh put it succinctly:
Kal bhee jeeyey thhey, aaj bhee jee rahey hain
Jeeney kee aadat see par gayee hai, Jeeyey ja rahey hain (We were alive yesterday; we’re still living today. It’s become a habit to be alive; we keep on living)

Getting under Yankee Hindi
An NRI lady returns from the US to India and is window-shopping in Delhi. Suddenly, she realises she is late for an appointment. She isn’t wearing a watch. So she asks the owner of a nearby shop in an American accent: “Wot’s the tyme?” 
The shopkeeper hates desis who put on foreign accents. He replies in an American accent: “Bra-panties” Confused, the lady asks again, “No, no. Wot’s da tyme?” The shopkeeper repeats his answer. Seeing the confusion between the two, a Sardarji comes to the rescue of the lady and says “O paaji, tusi samajh nahin paaye. Kudi twade ton puuchh rahii hai, kinna time hua: The shopkeeper answers back ‘Oye’ paji, main bhi tan ohnoo hee das rahan: ‘Barah-payntis — (12.35).
(Contributed by Paramjit S.Kochar, New Delhi)

Monday, 8 December 2008

Of iffy gurus and mystic sufis


By Khushwant Singh

I was reading Paul Johnson’s Intellectuals for the second time. It’s a highly readable series of essays on the role of intellectuals in Europe and the United States. The writings of some of them like Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzche, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Leo Tolstoy, Jean-Paul Sartre and Bertrand Russell had a profound and lasting effect on generations of Europeans and Americans. India also produced intellects like Rammohun Roy, Sri Aurobindo and M.N. Roy. It has also some highly educated and perceptive thinkers today. But their impact on Indian society has been, and is, marginal. Why ?

I can assign two reasons for the failure of our intellectuals to change society. One is that all of them wrote in English that barely 10 per cent of educated Indians can read and comprehend. The masses never get to know about them. The second, and the more important factor in isolating intellectuals was, and is, the fact that the vast majority of our countrymen look up to their gurus or godmen for guidance because they speak their language. 

It is oral and not written communication. Gurus have massive following but their learning is limited to churning out accepted religious concepts unaffected by occidental learning. Most of their pravachans (lectures) are accompanied by hymn singing and at times dancing in ecstasy. Their congregations return to their homes contented and at peace with themselves because they do not have to wrestle with new ideas. That is why caste distinctions persist, foeticide is widely practised and we continue to breed at a suicidal rate. Our gurus never deal with such social problems.

I am not sure if my reading of the ineffectiveness of Indian intellectuals in changing social attitudes is correct. I hope to have readers’ reactions.

Rumi, with a view

Ten years ago a lady moved into a flat in the block next to mine. The entire complex of apartments was lit up by her presence. We had not seen a woman as beautiful as her. I spread the word around to my friends. Soon everyone was saying “that cranky old Sardar has gone bonkers. He refuses to meet people but if you want to get anything out of him, all you have to do is to ask the lady to speak to him. To him she is like heroine of Rider Haggard’s novel She, who must be obeyed.” Unfortunately the lady in question visits Delhi only for a few weeks in winter. I won’t mention her name. I call her ‘Heart’s Joy’.

She has hardly ever asked me to do anyone a favour. However, very recently she gave me a copy of a periodical published by the Rumi Foundation of India, called HU which is Arabic for God, or the One God. This third issue of the journal is on sufis and rishis of Kashmir. (She is Kashmiri by marriage). I promised to mention it in my column as I am intrigued by the recent outburst of interest in Rumi as well as the special brand of Islam prevalent in Kashmir. 

Then I noticed that the man behind the project was Muzaffar Ali. We are allergic towards each other. So I suspect he entrusted the job to my neighbour. I know Muzaffar to be a handsome go-getter with pretensions of zamindari aristocracy and interest in vintage cars. He made one good film, Umrao Jaan, starring Rekha with songs that will live for ever. For the last many years he’s keenly telling everyone he is filming Zooni. He hasn’t even started on it and is now telling people he is going to make one on Rumi. He is also into dress designing. 

Meanwhile, he has acquired an other worldly, soulful Sufi look with graying curly locks and a beard. He along with his third Hindu wife are regular Page 3 characters. He has no problem with money. Delhi Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit has been generous in her endowment to his ventures. He does a commendable job organising functions. I envy him, but have little time for him.

Rumi is all the rage in ‘pseud’ circles the world over. Jalaluddin (1207-73) born in Balkh, Afghanistan, settled down in Konya, Turkey, then called Rum (pronounced Room). He became a teacher and came to be known as Maulana Jalaluddin Rumi, Sheikh-al Akbar (the Great Master). His six-volume Masnavi in Persian is a masterpiece. He was a founder of the Mevlevi order of whirling dervishes based in Konya where he is buried. 

Rumi wrote on a wide range of subjects extending from the sublime to the very earthy. He had no single-religion obsession. For him all of them were the same. He could be ecstatic as well as bawdy. He wrote about union with the Creator as well as farting donkeys and over-sexed women who tried copulating with them. His worshippers don’t talk about his earthiness.

It is the same with HU. Karan Singh writes of the unique blend of Islam and Hinduism in Kashmir. Actually, it is true of the majority of Indian Muslims. They go to mosque to pray and to dargahs where pirs are buried, to beg for favours. He believes in miracles and how much his erstwhile Muslim subjects revere him. When the Valley was in turmoil over the disappearance of the hair of the Prophet, he and his Maharani went to pray at the Hazrat Bal shrine. And lo and behold, the next day the holy relic was back at its place. 

The magazine has articles on Kashmiri poets and holy men. It is hard to read them, as all pages are in shades of sepia or dark brown. It is in fact a collectors’ item to be admired rather than read. It is not priced presumably because it is meant to be priceless. For me it is so as it has a lovely picture. Of Heart’s Joy.

No teething troubles

Banta: Santa, I am thinking of making my son an eye-specialist. I am told eye specialists earn a lot of money doing eye-surgery and making spectacles. What do you think? 

Santa: I think you should make him a dentist. After all people have only two eyes while they have 32 teeth. So naturally a dentist gets more work. 

(Contributed by JP Singh Kaka, Bhopal)

Saturday, 29 November 2008

2008: A wind-up chronicle


By Khushwnat Singh

It is New Year’s Day, 1st of January 2008. It is bitterly cold — one point above freezing point. I sit huddled by the dying embers of my fireplace and turn the pages of my diary of the year about to end. Every other page records a bomb blast in some city or the other with the numbers killed and injured along with wild guesses about organisations which might be responsible for it. Conclusion — spreading lawlessness, outrageous defiances of authority by the Thackeray trio of Mumbai, Bajrang Dal’s attacks on hapless Muslims and Christians with leaders of saffron brigades promptly speaking in their defence without bothering to get the full story. L.K.Advani’s weekly forecasts of the imminent collapse of the Sonia Gandhi — Manmohan Singh led Congress coalition; Prakash Karat’s senseless opposition to a nuclear deal between India and the USA and at the same time warning us of the perils of resurgent Hindu fundamentalism and joining hands with the same fundoos in the hope of toppling the government. All to no avail. Thank God!

Before I go over the balance of the good versus the bad, it would be proper to record the names of eminent people who passed away and therefore beyond bothering about our wretched state of affairs. In February died Russy Karanjiya, editor of the Blitz at 96, Maharish Mahesh Yogi at 91 in Holland; Baba Amte 94, Sheila Bhatia of the National Theatre and Justice H.R.Khanna at 96. In April departed the Sarod maestro Sharan Rani. In May, the Gandhian Nirmala Deshpande at 79. In June, Field marshal Sam Manekshaw at 94. In July, Chief Justice Chandrachud at 86. In August, the Industrial tycoon K.K. Birla. In September, H.Y. Sharda Prasad, life-time personal secretary to Indira Gandhi and Salauddin Qwaisi MP from Hyderabad. In November, film producer B.R.Chopra at 94 and ex-minister Ajit Panja. 

Besides these celebrities, there were many others who perished in man-made disasters. In August, a dam burst changed the course of river Kosi which drowned thousands of villages in Bihar. In a stampede in Naina Devi temple in Himachal over 150 were killed. Another stampede in a temple near Jodhpur around 250 lives were lost. We still have to learn how to get off and get in trains — so stampedes are no surprise. The Gujjar agitation cost around 50 lives. The Naxalites continued their depredations across the country attacking police posts in Uttar Pradesh, Orissa and Andhra Pradesh. They even shot down a helicopter.

Enough of disasters. We had the mildest May on record and the monsoon arrived 15 days before schedule. Six states went to the polls. The BJP extended its domain by annexing Karnataka. It looks set to win more states. However, it failed to dislodge the Congress coalition at the Centre and the Nuclear deal with America went through with Prime Minister Manmohan Singh winning the vote of confidence with flying colours. Our crowning achievement was to plant the Indian tri-colour carried by Chandrayaan-I on the moon.

Kashmir Valley had its first Railway train. Good show: was one gold and two bronzes. However, Vishwanathan Anand regained his place as the world’s Chess Champion. Jeev Milkha Singh became Asia’s Golf Champion. Our cricketers got the better of the series against Australia, England South Africa and Sri Lanka. Tendulkar became the greatest run scorer in Test cricket, Kumble and Ganguly retired from the Test Cricket. We still have Dhoni, Sehwag (he scored three centuries in one match) Yuvraj, Gambhir, Harbhajan, Zaheer, Irfan and others to keep us happy.

Aravind Adiga won the Booker Prize for his novel The White Tiger. Bhimsen Joshi was awarded the Bharat Ratna. I think this highest honour should be restricted to social workers and creative people like scientists, musicians and artists and never given to retired politicians or civil servants.

As I write this, a few weeks of 2008 remain unknown. Another six states are going to the polls. Next to cricket, we are prone to election fever. How Obama won the US Presidency without our vote, was a miracle. Next year we will have our general election. I look forward to the emergence of new leaders — young men and women with a vision of the future. I put my money on two, Rahul Gandhi and Omar Abdullah.

Obama and Mayawati

A man can do what a man had done

How about a woman ?

If he is not entirely black, she is not exactly White

If Obama is Brilliant, Mayawati is naughty and bright

If he ousted high-end Hillary, she is taking on Mrs Gandhi

If he is calm and witty, she is catish and gritty

If he is a man of vision, creator of history

She is the mother of Taj corridor, plotting dream victory

Because mainstream parties have failed the country

For the darkened community and the downtrodden race

A minor revolution is taking place-

So, the people of India, please mind

If Obama comes, Mayawati may not be far behind.

(Contributed by Kuldip Salil, New Delhi)

Saturday, 22 November 2008

Wrapped in ochre, damned in deed



Khushwant Singh

We are told that India is the homeland of sants, mahatmas, rishis and sadhus. We believe we are guided by those who have spent years introspecting or meditating to find out the truth about themselves and the world. After that, they achieve peace of mind and are qualified to become gurus entitled to preach peace and love for humanity. To show that they have no worldly ambitions, they wear saffron or ochre robes, symbolising renunciation. Does this hold good in today’s India?

I give three instances of women who wore saffron and style themselves as Sadhvis. One is Rithambra. Sudhir Kakkar, India’s leading psychiatrist has quoted her speeches spouting hate against Muslims. She is also the author of the slogan ‘ek aur dhakka’ — one more push — to bring down the Babri Masjid. On TV channels, she preaches love and understanding. She is also seen with children, to create the impression of being a loving mother. 

Then, there is Uma Bharati, who does not call herself a Sadhvi but wears saffron. She has not made up her mind whether she wants to be a politician or a spiritual leader. She celebrated the demolition of Babri Masjid by embracing Murli Manohar Joshi. She has been the Chief Minister of Madhya Pradesh. She is also seen hugging cows and calves, a living image of a gau-rakshak (protector of the cow). We saw her sitting in the front row in one of Asaram Bapu’s congregations and proclaiming in English, “I love you”. That was before Bapu lost his aura and was accused of amassing property. Whatever her other achievements, she is unable to control her temper. We saw her fling her papers and storm out of a meeting of the top-brass of the BJP. And recently, in full view of thousands of her admirers she slapped an important supporter. Realising what the political outcome would be, she ran after him to apologise and kissed him (on the forehead). 

Most of all I am disillusioned by the charges laid against Sadhvi Pragya Singh Thakur. Her doctor father is a member of the RSS. She was an activist of the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP), the student wing of the BJP. She evidently has a personality problem: a girl with masculine tendencies. She wears a turban, rides a motor cycle, and ticks off strangers she thinks are making passes at girls. What she needed was psychiatric guidance. What she is accused of is being one of the gang that planted bombs in Muslim localities, which took six lives. She is in dire trouble if she fails to clear her name of this diabolical conspiracy. She has shaken my confidence about saintly men and women in saffron or ochre robes. We may have to change the name of our beloved Hindustan to Pakhandistan — the land of humbugs. 

New lingo

India and Pakistan have invented a new language that I have named IPA, short for Indo-Pak Angrezi. In Pakistan, it is English mixed with Urdu and Punjabi. In India, it is English mixed with Hindi, Punjabi and Mumbai Hindustani. In both countries, grammar is ignored, as is spelling. In India, the pioneers were the late Devyani Chaubal of Bombay and Shobhaa De of Mumbai. In Pakistan, it is Moni Mohsin. Her weekly column in the Friday Times of Lahore is the most widely read in IPA in both countries. She is the maharani of this bastard language. She made her name to fame with her novel The End of Innocence (Penguin), based in a country estate close to Lahore. Now, a selection of her articles in IPA have been published in India: The Diary of a Social Butterfly (Random House). It makes hilarious reading for those who know a little Urdu and are not fussy about spelling. I give a few samples. This one is on her organising a protest march against the US-British intrusion in Iraq and her family’s reaction. “I’ve chup karaoed everybody — The Old Bag, the Gruesome Twosome, Janoo, even Bush and his English chaprassi, ‘Tony the Phoney’ as Janoo calls him. I’ve chup karaoed them with anti-Iraq war jaloos, which has come on CNN, BBC, even Fox. After all, five thousands women and children marching through Gullberg is no joke, And all khaata-peeta khandani types who are doing it for their principles and not for the hundred rupees the rent-a-crowd types get. Nobody can say after this that we Gullberg-wallahs don’t stand out and speak out — or was it stand up and speek out ? Khair, whatever. Sab ko hum ne impress kar diya hai, and that’s that.”

Again, this is from the impending visit of the Indian Polo team to Lahore: “So much of mazza!! I’m tau going off my rocket with all the parties-sharties, shaadi-vaadis and khannas galore. And the Polo: voh tau even more better. So many polo functions, and all by special invitation only so that no aera-vagheras could get in. Serves them right, I tell you. Trying to muscle in where they don’t belong.

But what a pity keh no glam Indians showed up at the polo. Itna main look forward kar rahi thi, na, to entertaining Shahrukh Khan and Salman and Hrithik in my new sun room with its pink wall-to-wall and apple green velvet curtains. Chalo, next time.”

Gujarati common sense

One day, many years ago at a school in South London, a teacher said to a class of five-year olds, “I’ll give $20 to the child who can tell me who was the most famous man who ever lived?”

An Irish boy said: “It was St Patrick.”

The teacher said sorry Alan, that’s wrong. 

A Scottish boy : “It was St Andrew”. 

“That is not right either,” the teacher replied 

Finally, Jayant, a Gujarati boy, said, “Jesus Christ”. That is right, Jayant and the teacher gave him $ 20. But he said, “You are Gujarati, so I am surprised you said Jesus Christ.” 

Jayant replied: “Yes, in my heart I knew it was Lord Krishna, but business is business.”

 (Contributed by Vipin Buksey,New Delhi)

Friday, 14 November 2008

Good things to the Raj times




When I submitted a collection of articles written by English men and women, compiled by me over 30 years ago to Penguin-Viking under the title Sahibs who Loved India, I hoped it would make the top of non-fiction best-sellers list. It did not. Besides Lord Meghnad Desai’s favourable notice in Outlook, it only got a few patronising paragraphs in other journals. Lord Desai is a Britisher and a friend. I expected him to be kind to me. I was disappointed as I felt strongly that our historians had painted a negative picture of British Raj without giving it credit for its positive contribution to the making of India. They have a lot to say about the rapacity of men like Clive & Warren Hastings, about the diabolical massacre of innocents at Jallianwala Bagh, their racist arrogance, ‘Whites only Clubs’ and keeping their distance from Indians and the nasty things they had to say about everything Indian. However, there was the other side of the coin. Let me draw your attention to some of its salient features.

The British Raj made us conscious of being Indian. We were Punjabis, Awadhis, Biharis, Bengalis, Oriyas Andhras, Tamils, Malayalis, Maharashtrians, Rajputs — also Hindu, Muslims, Christians and Sikhs. We remained all these but also became Indians. All of us had one passport — Indian.

The British built us telegraph, connected our cities by roads, railways, laid networks of canals, dams to produce hydro-electricity. They started the process of industrialisation. They also introduced democratic institutions like municipalities, states and Central legislatures. During the British rule, there was more respect for the law. There were fewer riots, bandhs, and gheraos; blocking roads and rail traffic, burning buses and trains. Smashing of cars etc. was little heard of. There was less corruption. Rarely did English officers indulge in bribery. Now it is rare to find an honest, civil servant who can’t be bribed. Ask any Indian of my generation and he will confirm that life and property were safer in British times than in India today.

Comparison with Princely States is pertinent. Most ruling princes lived in huge palaces, had fleets of Rolls Royces, amassed jewellery, maintained harems of wives and concubines, squandered public money lavishly. Not even the Viceroys of India lived in the styles of our maharajas and nawabs.

Many Englishmen supported India’s freedom movement. The founder of Indian National Congress was an Englishman, A.O.Hume; Mahatma Gandhi’s closest disciple was an English woman, Mira Ben. Amongst his closest associates were Reverend C.F. Andrews and Polak. Two Englishmen were involved in the Meerut Conspiracy case to put an end to the Raj. There were dozens of other English journalists, civil servants, Boxwallahs who lent active support to our freedom movement. The British did not divide us to rule, as is often alleged by nationalist historians. Maulana Mohammed Ali was right in holding ‘We divide and they rule.” The British did not break up India when they left, they did their best to keep it together. It was our leaders who split it as they failed to get on with each other. The British left the country with good graces. They did not have to be pushed out as other European colonists like the French, Dutch & Portuguese. That is why many Indians have nostalgic memories of the Raj.

And finally, lots of English people went out of their way to befriend Indians. I was lucky in knowing quite a few and felt I should do my bit in knowing quite a few of them and my bit in setting the record right. I am an unashamed Anglo-phile.

What a great fall

During the monsoon of 1960, I witnessed the most awe-inspiring, spectacular and picturesque sight of nature as its best — the majestic Jog Falls. The vast expanse of water of Sharavathi river, falling from great height as Jog Falls was composed of four distinct sub falls — Rocket, Roarer, Rani and Raja. With a perpetual rainbow across them and the sides of gorge veiled in white vapours, the scenic view and tranquil atmosphere at the government guest-house made one feel like being in paradise. The first page of the visitor’s book had the opening remark: “What a waste of Water”.

This remark was written by none other than the noted centurion, renowned engineer, able administrator, illustrious son and Dewan of erstwhile golden state of Mysore-Bharat Ratna Dr. Mokshagundam Visvesvarya.

During the summer of 1964, I again visited Jog Falls as student of college of Military Engineering, Kirkee on a study tour. With the river Sharavathi having been dammed and water diverted into penstocks for generation of hydro power, the dream of visionary Visesvarya had come true, but at the cost of leaving the mighty Jog Falls high and dry. Rocket had taken off for good, never to return; Roarer had been silenced for ever and was no more music to the ears; Ranu had deserted her beloved Raja; and the lonely and lean stream of Raja was reduced to an exaggerated version of ‘Mannikin Piss’ of Brussels.

Before endorsing my remarks in the visitors book, our of sheer inquisitiveness, I glanced the last remark written by a tourist with the popular American name Henry (neither Ford, nor Kissinger, nor Fonda, the illustrious sons of America). His ingenious and original remark read as “I know of a plumber in Texas who can repair this leak.”

(Courtesy: Col. Trilok Mehrotra, New Delhi)

Monday, 10 November 2008

Saffron has a go at history


Saffron has a go at history

I wasn’t aware that the Hindu Mahasabha and the RSS had set up many schools across the country, known as Saraswati Shishu Mandirs and Vidya Bharati Schools. The number of teachers employed runs into thousands; the number of students into hundreds of thousands. They also have a publishing house to print their own text books. I was happy to learn this as our country needs more schools — the more the better — as well as more text-books. However, when I discovered what they teach in these schools, I was sorely disappointed. It is make-believe historical fiction to boost our morale and foster suspicion and hatred against Indian-born minorities who don’t share the same kind of pride in our past, notably Muslims and Christians. 



To start with, it is assumed that Bharat Varsha is co-terminous with Aryavarta: Dravidians, who were Indians before the Aryans came to inhabit the southern half of our country, are ignored. Their role model is Adolf Hitler who purged Aryan Germany of semitic races by gassing millions of Jews and Gypsies, while Germans of today regard Hitler as the devil-incarnate and are ashamed of him. RSS & Sena leaders hero-worship him.

Buddhism and its great propagator, Emperor Ashoka, who preached ahimsa (non-violence) were, according to them, unmitigated disasters as they robbed us of our martial qualities, made us cowardly and unable to resist marauding Muslim armies wielding swords in one hand and Koran in the other: they were, according to K.B.Hedgewar, founder of the RSS, “hissing Yavana snakes”. A few examples from these textbooks are pertinent: Muslims’ greatest wish to have a darshan of the black stone, shivalinga, installed in Mecca. The Qutub Minar of Delhi was built by Emperor Samudragupta and known as the Vishnu Stambha. (The fact that it is festooned with verses from the Koran is not mentioned). 

It is asserted that the Babri Masjid was never a Masjid because namaaz was never performed in it. (Photographs of the building before demolition showed three domes and a wall facing Mecca). An outrageous statement was made by the present head of the RSS, K.S. Sudarshan, in November 2001 in which he dismissed eminent historians as ‘anti-Hindu’ Euro-Indians. 

He claimed that “in ancient India, we knew about nuclear energy and sage Bharadwaja and Raja Bhoj not only described the construction of aeroplanes, but also discussed details like what types of aeroplanes would fly and at what height.” It is not surprising that all this so-called history fabricated earlier was given respectability during the tenure of Murli Manohar Joshi as education minister in the Vajpayee-led BJP government. Joshiji also initiated astrology as a subject in universities. However, while his horoscope assured him victory, he lost the election to the Lok Sabha.

A significant outcome of the kind of history being taught in these schools is down-grading the role of Mahatma Gandhi in the freedom movement and exalting that of Veer Savarkar. Though Savarkar was acquitted on technical grounds of the charge of conspiracy to kill Gandhi, the Justice Kapur Commission later squarely implicated him as the man who inspired the foul deed. His portrait was installed in Parliament House during the rule of the BJP. Before you accuse me of anti-RSS and BJP bias, take a look at a booklet — RSS, School Texts and the Murder of Mahatma Gandhi (Sage). It is compiled by three distinguished professors of history at JNU (Aditya Mukherjee, Mridula Mukherjee and Sucheta Mahajan). The source of every quotation is given to prove its authenticity. The basic text is barely 80 pages. 

Finally, ask yourself, is this kind of brain-washing of young minds and filling them with hate good for the country? It will turn our sweet dreams of a hate-free Hindustan into a nightmare of vicious civil strife.

My angry neighbour

My next-door neighbour Reeta Devi Verma of Cooch Bihar is a very angry person. She is a Hindu-Buddhist who worked with Mother Teresa for sometime after she quit her job as an Air India hostess. She continues her association with the Sisters of Charity in Guwahati and Delhi. Her current occupation is running two mobile clinics donated to her Ila Trust by Sir Elton John and cabinet minister Kapil Sibal. She takes them to different parts of Delhi and gives free medical aid and medicines to the needy. Her latest beat includes Batla House in Jamia Nagar. 

At one time, among many of her callers was Naveen Patnaik, currently Chief Minister of Orissa. Through her I met him a couple of times. He was then busy writing about nature. I found him urbane, sophisticated, soft-spoken and cultured. Also, at the same time, effeminate. I think he wasn’t cut out to be a politician or an administrator. However, riding on the esteem his father Biju Patnaik en joyed in Orissa, he found himself at the helm of affairs of his home state. He has evidently failed to stamp out anti-Christian violence perpetrated by a rabid section of Bajrang Dal. His police pay little heed to his orders and let vandals burn churches and molest nuns. In short, he has proved to be an incompetent and effete ruler of a large and important state. So Reeta Devi lost her cool and fired off an angry letter to him . It goes somewhat as follows: “Dear Naveen: You might recall the days when you used to drop in on me. You might remember I gave you a Mother Teresa rosary because I thought you admired her and the work her Missionaries of Charity were doing. I am disappointed by your inability to put down goondagardi against Christians. I am ashamed of you.”

Why so much rain?

Q. Why is Punjab getting more rains in the last two years than ever before ?

A. Because there are three Badals (clouds) in Punjab: the Chief Minister, Finance Minister and the Head of the Ruling Party.

Monday, 3 November 2008

The many faces of Goonda Raj

The many faces of Goonda Raj
I have drawn up a list of politicians who are in urgent need of psychiatric treatment. The list gets longer by the day. I dare not publish it as I am sure if I did so, I would have dozens of cases of criminal libel slapped on me across the country — extending from Chennai to Bhubaneshwar to Kolkata, Patna, Lucknow, Delhi, Amritsar, Jaipur, Bhopal, Ahmedabad, Mumbai and Bangalore. If I hired lawyers to defend me, I would be ruined. 

What I fear more than being financially ruined is having to turn up at different places to seek bail. I know what would happen. Before I appear in court, I would be roughed up by goons claiming to be followers of the leaders I named. The police would not be able to protect me. These hoodlums regard themselves above the law of the land. State and the Central Governments are honour & duty bound to suppress these subversive elements. Or quit. A ruler must rule, not just pretend to be ruling. 

The way our governments have handled men and women who assumed they were above the law can only be described as inept and lacking in foresight. There was Bhindranwale who incited hatred and violence against Hindus. He was arrested on charges of incitement to murder. Then, he was let off on his own terms. Instead of being treated like a criminal, he became a hero. Successive governments of Maharashtra have shown the same kind of ineptitude dealing with Thackerays of the Shiv Sena. Both its founder Bal Thackeray and his son openly preached violence against non-Maharashtrians: No action was taken against them. 

Then Bal Thackeray’s nephew Raj set up his own splinter party which forced thousands of Biharis, Oriyas and Uttar Pradeshis to flee Maharashtra. He showed his contempt for the law by threatening to molest outsiders if they did not abide by his fiats. After much prodding Raj Thackeray was arrested. Then promptly let out on bail. As in the case of Bhindranwale, he has turned from a villain into a hero.

The violence let loose by the Bajrang Dal against Christians and Muslims should have been crushed a long time ago. Instead of doing so, its spokesman Sharma goes about challenging the government to do its worst “Dhajjian uda deyngey — we will tear it to shreds.” He goes scot free. Meanwhile, mobs of lunatics set fire to trains, buses, cars and public buildings. It is time our Central and State governments put down these lawless elements with a firm hand. The only language goondas understand is the language of the danda (stick).

Fear of death

Thanatophobia, derived from Greek, is the fear of death or dying. It is a disease which afflicts all living creatures. Human beings are especially prone to it because they are capable of thinking — and they think about it frequently. No one is immune to it: a person in good health and enjoying life puts it aside for a while. But when his health begins to fail, he is per force reminded of it. Everyone dreads its coming: those who deny being afraid of it and put up a brave face when they see it, are liars. In fact, they are as scared of it as a man being led to the gallows.

Much has been written about the fear of death by thinkers including those who have suffered short cardiac arrests but survived to relate their experiences. None of these accounts have solved the mystery of death. It remains the veil beyond which we cannot see, the door to which no one has yet found the key. All religions have theories of what happens after death. None of them adduce evidence in support of their theories. No rationalist can accept a day of Judgement, heaven, hell, resurrection, re-incarnation or re-birth, because there is not an iota of evidence to support any of them. We face a blank wall of total ignorance of the subject.

The latest book on the subject is Julian Barnes’ Nothing to be frightened of (Knopt). He is an atheist turned agnostic. (I construe agnostic as an atheist with an open mind). Barnes begins by admitting: “I don’t believe in God, but I miss him.” He admits that despite his belief that death is nothing, he thinks about it day and night and is dead scared of it. 

Mirza Ghalib said the same thing: Maut ka ek din muayyan hai, neend raat bhar kyon nahin aatee (one day you must die, why then do I have sleepless nights thinking about it)?

We have to be an oaf not to think about death. There is an epitaph on an unmarked grave in England which runs as follows:

Gaily I lived, as ease and nature taught

And spent my life without a thought;

And am amazed that death, that tyrant grim

Should think of me, who never thought of him.

The moral of the tale of death is simple: you can’t put it out of your mind and dread its coming but you need not brood over it, become melancholic and forgo the fun of living.

Mis-heard prayer

A Hindu in the US suffered a heart attack on the road and was picked up by an ambulance. Being religious, he kept repeating — Hari Om, Hari Om, Hari Om.

When the ambulance pulled into his driveway, his wife came out and screamed to the paramedics: “Why didn’t you take him straight to the hospital ?” They replied, “because he kept saying hurry home, hurry home!”

For the love of food

For the love of food

As a person ages, of his five senses, four decline with the years; only one, the sense of taste for food outlasts the others. I know this to be true in my case. The older I grow, the more I think of what I will eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Of the three meals, the first two are nominal: a buttered toast with a mug of tea in the morning, a bowl of soup or dahi (yoghurt) at mid-day but dinner, I insist, must be a gourmet’s delight. It comprises of only one main dish with a salad to match, topped off with pudding or ice-cream. I have also discovered that in order to enjoy that one meal I must be hungry and have a clean stomach. It is best enjoyed alone and in complete silence. Dining in company or with members of the family may help bonding friendships and keeping the family together, but it takes away much of the taste out of tasty food. Talking while eating, one also swallows a lot of air with the food. This is how our Hindu ancestor patriarchs ate their evening meals. They had good reasons for doing so; I follow the precedent set by them. I also have the pattern of drinking and dining from my role model Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib. He took a bath every evening and got into fresh clothes before he fished out his bottle of Scotch Whisky, poured out his measure in a tumbler, added scented surahi water to it — and drank in absolute silence while writing immortal couplets in praise of wine and women. He does not record what he ate for dinner. 


When I drink alone on an empty stomach, I can feel the whisky warming its way down my entrails. I do not get that feeling when drinking in company. Likewise, when eating in company, I scarcely notice the taste of what I keep shoveling in my mouth. When eating alone, I shut my eyes and turn my inner gaze to what I am chewing and munching bit by bit till it dissolves and goes down my throat. I feel I am doing justice to my food as the food I eat is doing justice to me. Never be in a hurry to get over your meal; take your time over it and relish it. 

I like to vary my food. My trusted cook of over 50 years is now too old to try his hand at new recipes. So I keep menus of eateries that deliver food handy. I try them in turns — Chinese, Thai, French, Italian, South Indian. I also have phone numbers of ladies who specialise in different kinds of food they cook in their homes and cater to people who place orders in advance. So I have a Mrs Dhupia who makes excellent Quiche Lorraine and chocolate cakes. And I have Claire Dutt who makes excellent anything I fancy. 

“Tell me what you eat and I’ll tell you what you are,” claimed Savarin. If I told him of the varieties of food I eat, he would probably call me a pig. But I do not hog myself. What I take is in measured quantities. For me it is the same as Savarin claimed : “the discovery of a new dish does more for the happiness of man than the discovery of a star." Like Lord Byron I look forward to my evening meal as I used to look forward to meeting my dates in younger days. To quote: “That all-softening, over powering knell//The tocsin of the sod - the dinner bell.’ 

One final word of caution: make sure you never over-eat. An upset stomach ruins the pleasure of eating. 

Nature’s Emissary
There was a time when during winter months I used to get up well before dawn, arm myself with a pair of binoculars, Salim Ali's book on Indian birds, a flask of hot coffee and egg sandwiches and set out with a small party of bird-watchers to a chosen site: it could be near Tilpet along the Yamuna or Sultanpur Jheel in Haryana. I also spent weekends in the Keoladeo bird sanctuary near Bharatpur. I picked up a smattering of information on birds but that did not deter me from claiming as an expert, writing a book called Nature Watch and doing a series for Doordarshan on natural phenomenon in and around Delhi in collaboration with Sharad Dutt. In short, I became an imposter and show-off. Although my birdwatching is now limited to my backyard patch of greenery with a few trees and a birdbath, I have a shelf full of books on birds, trees, butterflies and insects. I manage to keep up the pretence of being a know-all. 

One thing I can say in my defense is that I read whatever I can find on these subjects. Most are reference books with names in Greek and Latin, their equivalents in Indian languages, habitats, identification signs, calls, nesting, rearing their broods etc. It does not make exciting reading. Rarely do I come across a book that grips me because of the author’s emotional involvement with birds and animals. Gerald Durrell is a good example of such writing. The best I have read so far is a collection of articles by Ranjit Lal, Wild City: Nature Wonders Next Door (Penguin). It is about birds, animals, and insects seen in and around Delhi. He writes in a beautiful lyrical style, evidently knows the subject well and is in love with everything he writes about including jackals, wasps, spiders and ants. 

The only trouble is that he expects his readers to be interested and reasonably well informed. That is asking for too much and is the reason why he is not as well known, as he deserves to be. In my opinion he is A-1. In this book, he gives an example of the hazards of bird watching: Many years ago, I used to photograph the sea gulls that flock to Mumbai’s Marine Drive, right opposite a hostel for women. I hung around the place for hours, armed with binoculars, a camera with telephoto lens et al. If any police constable had asked me what I was doing opposite a women’s hostel equipped thus, I would have had to tell him the truth: ‘ I’m photographing gulls.’ You can well imagine the response! ‘Photographing girls? ‘Abbe saala, sharam nahin aata hai? (Aren’t you ashamed of yourself ?) Come with me to the lock-up! 

I have often tried to reproduce calls of birds and frogs in print— and usually failed. I recall a pair of mynas that used to visit office in Broadcasting House. One of them kept up a monologue that I tried to put in human sounds. But I was unable to do so. Ranjit Lal has got it right: ‘Keek-keek-churr-churr-churr- kok-kok-kok keek-churr?’

Monday, 20 October 2008

The next Prime Minister?


The next Prime Minister?

Manmohan Singh did well in saying that it was not yet time to decide whether or not he would run for a second term. There are still a few months to go before the next general election and the political scenario may change. He did even better by saying that there were others in his party as well, if not better-qualified than he to be Prime Ministers. He is a modest man not given to boasting. There are Pranab Mukherjee, Chidambaram, Kamal Nath, Arjun Singh and Kapil Sibal who have as much right to stake their claims to the top post as he. There are also outsiders like Digvijay Singh who have to be taken into reckoning. We are all aware that the final decision will rest with the President of the Congress Party. She knows our countrymen are not yet willing to have a foreign-born Indian at the helm of affairs. This is unfortunate but true. It is more than likely that she will choose Manmohan Singh for a second term because she can trust him and values his construction to the country. She will have to find him a safe constituency from where he can be elected to the Lok Sabha.

Manmohan Singh has his plus and minus points. A comparison with Pandit Nehru, our first and best Prime Minister, are pertinent. Nehru had a rich father who sent him to Harrow and Cambridge university. Manmohan comes from a poor family and won his way to Cambridge on scholarships and got the highest academic distinction. Nehru had no experience of administration. Manmohan Singh is a distinguished economist, has been a teacher, worked for the World Bank, was Governor of the Reserve Bank of India, head of the Planning Commission and Finance Minister. Nehru made some miscalculations in planning his economic policies. Manmohan had a clear vision of what the country needed and put them into effect. Nehru indulged in nepotism and cronyism. He imposed men like Krishna Menon on the country, appointed his sister Vijaylakshmi Pandit as governor and ambassador. He appointed Padmaja Naidu as governor. Manmohan has shown no favour to his relations or friends; he has no cronies. Most people don’t even know that he has three daughters, all highly educated. There is not a breath of scandal of financial skulduggery associated with his name.

Singh’s minus points should also be kept in mind. He has no constituency or political base. He will have to rely heavily on Sonia and Rahul Gandhi to win votes for the Congress Party to put him back in the Prime Ministerial chair. He has little charisma. He is not the paradigm of a martial sardar. He is not a great orator. He is very measured in his speech, never shoots his mouth, shouts slogans or indulges in rhetoric as most politicians do.

The principal contender for the post of the Prime Minister will be ex-Deputy Prime Minister L.K. Advani of the BJP. Since the time his party lost the last election, he has been prophesying Manmohan Singh’s imminent downfall, called him nikamma (useless). His record as far as money-making and kunbaprasthi (nepotism) is concerned is above reproach. He is also a good debater. The one thing I have against him is fouling the communal atmosphere in the country. He was the principal architect of the destruction of the Babri Masjid. All that has followed — bomb blasts in public places, attacks in trains, the pogrom of Muslims in Gujarat can be traced back to the horrendous crime committed in Ayodhya, and the fact that none of those who took part in it were punished. I have said many times and say it again: crime unpunished breeds criminals. The fall of the Babri Masjid has bred criminals, both Hindu and Muslim. Advani has to atone for his sins.

Of the BJP leaders the only other possible contenders for the post of Prime Minister that I can think of are Narendra Modi, Arun Jaitley, Vasundhara Raje, Jaswant Singh and Yashwant Sinha. All of them will have to cope with the minority animosity against Advani.

The Left parties are not likely to have a candidate of their own, but in combination with other parties may pick on Somnath Chatterjee, as the most acceptable candidate. 


And finally there are the two ladies, Mayawati and Jayalalitha, with ambitions and firm political bases. Both ladies have ego problems and lack national vision: their willingness to be deified may be their undoing.

At the moment, it seems the cards are stacked in favour of Manmohan Singh to pre-eminence and his performance as the leader of the nation, one rarely hears sardarji jokes which portrayed them as simple-minded buffoons and the only culture they knew was agriculture or soldiering. In his own quiet and unassuming manner he has gained respect for his community as well.
Bomb terror and mob terror
How long and how many lives will be lost
In one after the other serial bomb blast?
Will it be till our towns and cities vanish,
Asks a nation dazed and aghast.
How long shall we out of fear die?
How long shall we go on blaming the ISI?
How long will the State its duty skirt?
How many times shall we declare high alert?
And who will answer this uneasy question:
Have Gujarat riots and Babri demolition
No connection with our young and bright jehadis’ perception,
Their underground wrath, their evil intention,
Of unleashing death and destruction?
And with churches all across the country burnt,
Has the Parivar any lesson learnt?
 (Courtesy: Kuldip Salil, Delhi)
Deafness
Teacher: “What do you call a person who cannot hear anything?
Student: You can call him anything and even abuse him, because he cannot hear you.”

Sunday, 12 October 2008

My hometown is changing


My hometown is changing

The second half of September 2008 will go down in the history of our country, for reasons good and bad. Good was finalising the nuclear deals with France and America. Its benefits will accrue soon and silence their critics for ever. 


The bad took place in Delhi: the encounter between the police and students of Jamia Millia University, followed by bomb blasts in Mehrauli a few days later. They poisoned the cordial atmosphere that had prevailed in the city. Hindus and Sikhs began to eye Muslims with suspicion and use hurtful language.

I also had the experience of the deteriorating law and order situation in my hometown. My daughter had her pocket picked at the Delhi Railway Station and had to return home. I have begun to believe that pickpockets operate with the help of the police. I also found the change that had taken place in identity verification by the police. I had to go to the Parliamentary Annexe to receive an award from Lok Sabha Speaker Somnath Chatterjee. I had to go through three barricades set up by the police to prove my identity before I was allowed to enter. It was like a city under siege. I could well understand the general feeling that if you have to go out to buy vegetables in the market, you can’t be sure if you will get back home in one piece.

I’m particularly worried about the change in atmosphere at Jamia Millia. It is one of the three major institutions for higher education for Muslims. The first was Aligarh Muslim University set up by Sir Syed Ahmed Khan. It was pro-British, anti-Congress and in favour of a separate Muslim State — till the separate Muslim State became a reality. 

Jamia Millia Islamia was set up by nationalist Muslims who were pro-Congress and against Partition. It has had many eminent men associated with it, including Zakir Hussain, Saiyidain, Prof. Mujeeb, Jamal Kidwai and others. The historian and scholar Mushirul Hasan is its Vice-Chancellor. The third is Osmania University in Hyderabad which has been, and is, free of political overtones.

What causes me anguish is the way the media, both print and electronic, accepted the police version that, as usual, depicts Muslims as subversive and links them with militant outfits. Jamia, which has a proud record of patriotism, has been tarred with the same brush. I am glad Mushirul Hasan has undertaken to defend students of his university against this calumny.

Nizamuddin Auliya, patron saint of Delhi, is said to have prophesied, ‘Hinooz Dilli Door Ast’ (Delhi is a long way away), referring to a ruler who intended to take him to task when he returned to the capital. He was killed before he could get to the city. I invoke his blessings to protect us from evil-doers.

‘Who has Tejpal gone for this time?’ 

“How many cases are there going against you?” I asked Tarun Tejpal. I had not met him for two years. He raised both his hands in a gesture of resignation and replied, “I have no idea. Quite a few all over the country. Every time I expose some skulduggery, the fellows involved file a criminal case against me. Nothing comes of them because I have solid evidence to back my charges.”

That is true. Tejpal is one of the most daring of the tribe of journalists in the country. When he launched Tehelka, he did it in grand style with Nobel-laureate Vidya Naipaul and mega-star Amitabh Bachchan on his board of advisors. He rented a swanky office in a leafy suburb and hired a large staff of investigators, reporters and sub-editors. But he soon came to grief. He took on too many of the so-called VIPs. 

Tejpal was the father of sting investigation. Whatever his staff investigated was recorded by spy cameras and hidden tape-recorders. His victims included Cabinet Ministers, police commissioners, army officers and others who granted licences in exchange of hard cash. They did their worst to ruin him. Business houses were scared to place ads in his journal. He had to close down. 

Tejpal took to writing. His first novel, The Alchemy of Desire (Picador), sold over 300,000 copies worldwide. Naipaul wrote: ‘At least — a new and brilliantly original novel from India.’ He found a champion in Ram Jethmalani and re-launched Tehelka. He also took on book publishing — three selections of the best of Tehelka are out.

Tejpal’s recent exposés have been the State-sponsored anti-Muslim violence in Gujarat. He got not only accounts of victims but also photographs and voices of perpetrators of diabolical crimes to prove his allegations. In a recent issue, he exposed the oft-repeated slanders against the Students of Islamic Movement of India (SIMI) made by Home Ministry officials at the time of LK Advani, when he was Home and Deputy Prime Minister of India. Scores of young Muslims were arrested and charged with crimes they had not committed. The only incriminating evidence was of recoveries made by the police and confessions made under torture. The courts refused to convict the accused on such fabricated evidence.

It needs a lot of courage to take on the police and people in power. Tejpal has the guts to do so. Every week as I open the pages of his Tehelka, I ask myself, “I wonder who he has gone in for this time.”

God versus Satan
God’s plan made a hopeful beginning,
But man spoilt his chances by sinning,
We know that the story,
Will end in God’s glory,
But at present the other side’s winning.

Saturday, 4 October 2008

Faith, no more


Faith, no more

Recent incidents of violence and vandalism against Christians and their churches deserve to be condemned unreservedly. They have blackened the fair face of Mother India and ruined the reputation of Hindus being the most religiously tolerant people in the world. At the same time, we must take a closer look at people who convert from one faith to another.

To start with, let it be understood that these days there are no forced conversions anywhere in the world. India is no exception. Those who assert that the poor, innocent and ignorant of India are being forced to accept Christianity are blatant liars. A few, very few educated and well-to-do men and women convert to another faith when they do not find solace in the faith of their ancestors. Examples are to be found in America and Europe of men and women of substance turning from Judaism and Christianity to Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam and Sikhism.

There are also men and women who convert to the faith of those they wish to marry. We have plenty of cases of Hindu, Muslim, Christian and Sikh inter-marriages. However, the largest number of converts come from communities discriminated against. The outstanding example was that of Dalit leader Bhimrao Ambedkar who led his Mahar community to embrace Buddhism because they were discriminated against by upper caste Hindus. This is also true of over 90 per cent of Indian Muslims whose ancestors being lower caste embraced Islam which gave them equal status. That gives lie to the often-repeated slander that Islam made converts by the sword. 

An equally large number of people converted out of gratitude. They were neglected, ignorant and poor. When strangers came to look after them, opened schools and hospitals for them, taught them, healed them and helped them to stand on their own feet to hold their heads high, they felt grateful towards their benefactors. Most of them were Christian missionaries who worked in remote villages and brought hope to the lives of people who were deprived of hope. 

To this day, Christian missionaries run the best schools, colleges and hospitals in our country. They are inexpensive and free of corruption. They get converts because of the sense of gratitude they generate. Can this be called forcible conversion? Why don’t the great champions of Hinduism look within their hearts and find out why so many are disenchanted by their pretensions of piety? Let them first set their own houses in order, purge the caste system out of Hindu society and welcome with open arms all those who wish to join them. 

No one will then convert from Hinduism to another religion. 

The Great Indian Chew

Niccolao Manucci of Venice came to India as a boy of 14 in 1655, and spent the rest of his life in the country. After living in Delhi, Agra and Goa, practising as a self-taught doctor, he returned to Pondicherry where he died in 1717. His Storia di Mogor has a lot of salacious gossip about the goings-on in the harems of Mughal kings.

On his first journey from Surat to Agra and Delhi, Manucci was much intrigued by Indians’ favourite indulgence. He wrote: “Among other things, I was much surprised to see that almost everybody was spitting something red as blood. I imagined it must be due to some complaint of the country, or that their teeth had become broken. I asked an English lady what was the matter, and whether it was the practice in this country for the inhabitants to have their teeth extracted. 

When she understood my question, she answered that it was not any disease, but a certain aromatic leaf called in the language of the country — paan, or in Portuguese, betel. She ordered some leaves to be brought, ate some herself and gave me some to eat. Having taken them, my head swam to such an extent that I feared I was dying. It caused me to fall down; I lost my colour, and endured agonies; but she poured into my mouth a little salt, and brought me to my senses. The lady assured me that everyone who ate it for the first time felt the same effects.

Betel, or paan, is a leaf similar to the ivy-leaf, but the betel leaf is longer. It is very medicinal, and eaten by everybody in India. They chew it along with arecas, which physicians call Avelans Indicas, and a little katha, which is the dried juice of a certain plant that grows in India. Smearing the betel leaf with a little of the katha, they chew them together, which makes the lips scarlet and gives a pleasant scent. It happens with the eaters of betel, as to those accustomed to take tobacco, that they are unable to refrain from taking it many times a day. Thus the women of India, whose principal business it is to tell stories and eat betel, are unable to remain many minutes without having it in their mouths. 


It is an exceedingly common practice in India to offer betel leaf by way of politeness, chiefly among the great men, who, when anyone pays them a visit, offer betel at the time or leaving as mark of goodwill, and of the estimation in which they hold the person who is visiting them. It would be great piece of rudeness to refuse it.” 

(From Beyond the Three Seas, 

edited by M.H. Fisher, Random House)

Wrong bus

Returning from a theka, Santa says to Banta, “I can’t walk all the way home.” 

“I know,” says Santa, “but we have no money for a cab and we’ve missed the last bus.”

“We could steal a bus from the depot,” Santa suggests. 

They arrive at the bus depot and Santa tells Banta to go in and get a bus while he keeps a look-out. After shuffling around for ages, Santa shouts, “Banta, what are you doing? Have you not found a bus yet?” 

Banta shouts, “I can’t find a No. 91.” 

Santa: “You thick sod, take the No. 14 and we’ll walk from the roundabout.”

(Contributed by Vipin Bucksey, New Delhi)

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