Auto-rogues

This has been going on for far too long. And it has to stop. A monster mob has been born out of state apathy and pure foolishness. Now every single citizen is held a hostage to this totally unruly and violent horde of rogue auto-drivers that have been let loose in the city.

Who are these? They all come from the lower rung of the society but now they have  all, to a man, turned into vicious beasts. And the peculiar thing is that these auto-drivers operate  in this murderous fashion only in the city of Calcutta. In no other city in India do auto-drivers get away with this sort of violent behaviour with passengers. Why is this so unique only to Calcutta then?

The animal strength and arrogance that the auto-drivers display in Calcutta is because they enjoy a political patronage that is unthinkable elsewhere. Together they form a huge vote-bank which the political parties cannot afford to ignore. But at what cost? The time is high that the political parties should listen to the ground-swell of discontent and anger that is arising in the minds of ordinary citizens. The politicians can ill afford to disregard this growing anger and frustration among the countless thousands of the citizens of Calcutta.

When autos were first introduced in the city, they came fitted with meters and they used to run on a carriage-permit basis. Like taxis one could hire an auto and take it anywhere in the city. But then came a different system, the state-permit system. Meters were taken off autos and fixed routes were demarcated. Autos would now operate only on specific routes they were assigned. Autos could now take passengers on a shuttle basis charging each single passenger the rates fixed for the routes. Each auto would now carry four (sometimes even five) passengers on those fixed routes as they would keep going up and down these fixed routes from starting to the end points. At the end of each route, starting or end point, these autos would converge and stand in long lines awaiting passengers. What happened is that these auto-drivers started becoming a sort of club among themselves forming into large groups which stood unified against any passenger that dared to question any auto-driver regarding their rates or the way they would drive recklessly endangering their limbs and lives. Over the years their arrogance have grown to an intolerable level as they know that they are beyond reproach and any police action. They can do just about anything on the road and there's nobody to question their might.

As I see it the only solution in hand is to disband these groups. That can only be done by re-introducing the meter system and discontinuing the shuttle system. If these autos are made to run as before, like ordinary taxis, and not like buses on fixed routes, that may solve the problem. As soon as fixed route shuttle ferrying is stopped, the starting points of these routes will disappear. There wouldn't be any more congregation of auto-drivers at any one point where they could fraternise and make themselves into a close-knit community. It is these close-knit communities that are the basis of their untrammeled strength and power. If the  foundation is knocked out of existence these auto-drivers will operate singly like taxis. They will then be forced to accept a passenger and  take him to any part of the city. And the passenger will have to pay what the meter shows. The 'togetherness' of the auto-drivers, that is the root cause of their arrogance and might, will thus disappear.

This is what I have thought of as perhaps the only way we can rid ourselves of the menace. Autos in other cities run on carriage-permit basis with meters, just like taxis. And there's no trouble there. Only in Calcutta the trouble has started with the auto-drivers growing in menace because they are allowed to run their autos as a shuttle service and  on a state-licence basis, like buses on fixed routes. This has to go.

But will the Government listen?

Death of a Woman.

A woman died. Under tragic and mysterious circumstances.

Yes the woman was beautiful, a drop-dead gorgeous number. And she was married to a high ranking Union Minister, no less glamorous himself and an internationally acclaimed author. And the news hit the entire nation like a bomb-shell. The private and very personal grief of the bereaved husband went viral giving rise to a myriad speculations and conjectures. Add to all of that the hovering presence of another glamour babe, a  female journalist from a neighbouring not too friendly country, and what we have is all the ingredients of a pot boiler of a mystery that would make a nail-biting PD James novel.

What I ask myself and also the media is that is nothing sacred? The drumming up of this frenzy of speculation surrounding the sudden and unexpected death of a woman is entirely media-made. There's no doubt. And what of the shattered husband? Does anybody even care ? Instead of being left alone  to deal with this terrible loss with his personal friends and family, the hapless husband is now in the eye of the media blizzard: was he involved in this death? was it a suicide that had been "aided and abetted" by the spat that the couple were having over the third woman? All kinds of rumours are flying about. Couldn't the media tone it down while reporting of this awful tragedy? But that was not to be. Each publication had to fan the flames of the imagination of its readers to a fever pitch of the most lurid possibilities.

This is yellow journalism at its worst.

Breaking apart.

Are we all breaking apart? Into little bits and pieces.

That's what it looks like. Most recently Andhra Pradesh broke into another piece, Telengana. Up in the north-east there has been an ongoing cry for a separate state for the Bodo tribe. The huge state of Uttar Pradesh has already had to break into another state of Uttarakhand. Bihar has had to break into the little piece for the Santhal tribes and a new state, Jharkhand has come into existence.

Now closer to home, in West Bengal, the Nepalis, or Gorkhas, as they'd like themselves to be known as, are demanding a break-away and create their own state of Gorkhaland.

When and where will all this end? And more importantly why is this happening?

Is it because this sub-continent has so many languages, so many cultures, so many different types of food, all linked to different ethinicities? Is this the cause of all the strain that India as a whole is feeling? These pulls and tugs are actually fragmenting the country's oneness.

Unless there is a strong government at the Centre, a government which can truly govern and address all these petty squabbling going on all around, the future looks very uncertain. It may be possible for the unthinkable to happen, that one day India will really break apart.

Fine Design for India aka FDI

This mad outrage against introduction of FDI that is going on through the country is nothing but that; a madness. Those who are screaming their guts out in anger against the FDI, namely political groups fall in two broad categories: those who have a vested interest in the system of the middleman continuing, and the other group which is opposing because they don't understand what is going on but likes to stay with those who are shouting the most.

I see in this so-called outrage a similar one that erupted years ago when the government was thinking of introducing computers in the country. I remember quite vivdly the extent of furore that the  government's decision had caused. There wasn't a square inch of wall space that hadn't been graffitied on with strong bellegerent words against computerisation. Those were the days of writings of political slogans on every available wall space, be they private buildings or government offices. Political pundits and social scientists all joined in the chorus against all forms of computerisation. They all felt that thousands upon thousands would be rendered jobless. Industry would come to a halt. And in any case our country was not "ready" for computers, which were viewed as exotic inventions of a much more developed economy.

We all know what happened after that. The government pushed through computerisation. Jobs weren't lost. In fact more jobs got created. Efficiency in banks and all public sectors improved a thousandfold and there was just no looking back. Can we even imagine a world without computers today?

Cut to the present day fracas over the issue of the FDI. In simple terms what is happening is that the farmer, who is actually growing food with his own hands is having to sell the product to this middleman or 'phorey' (in the local dialect). The middleman pays the farmer, let's say Rs 2 for an item. That, the middleman sells to the wholesale trader (mahajan- again in the local dialet), let's say for Rs 15. The wholesaler sells that in turn to the retailer for Rs 20. The actual consumer of the item, you and I, have to buy that product from the retailer for Rs 25. And the poor farmer who actually produced it is left holding his miserable Rs2.

Can there be greater injustice?

Now if the FDI comes in, the foreign investor, let's say Wal Mart goes to the farmer directly, lifts that very item from him for Rs 10. And then Wal Mart, which has its own retail outlet sells it for Rs 15. The result is a win-win situation for the farmer and the actual consumer, both of who are happy. The FDI in one fell swoop has thus obliterated the phorey and  the mahajan. The transaction is simplified, products reach farm fresh to the ultimate consumer, you and me, and the entire business becomes vigorous and healthy. No more blood sucking phoreys who have been exploiting the poor farmers all this time with political patronage. The political patronage has been there for the obvious reason that the phoreys have to share their loot with the political group that is in power.

Is it any wonder then why certain political groups are so hell bent against the introduction of the FDI, which in fact is one hell of a Fine Design for India?

Can opener

Somebody presented me with a canned tin of sardines and also a can of tuna. I relish these two fish as a sandwich spread. But to spread on the bread, I discovered, you have to get at them. The fish, I mean, that's sealed tight inside.

So I began to look for a can opener. I knew we had it somewhere among the spoons and ladles, and forks and knives and all the jumble of cutlery that one accumulates over the years and stuffs them all inside the drawer of the kitchen cupboard. I was sure we had a can opener somewhere in that jungle. But try as hard as I might, I just couldn't seem to be able to locate it. My missus was not much help either, whom I had naturally to turn to in this moment of crisis.

After two days of sporadic searches and raids into all the corners and crevices of the kitchen and pantry the truth finally dawned on me that we didn't really have one. And all this time we never even needed to have one. I wasn't too surprised at that knowing my wife's intense dislike for anything tinned or canned or any food that's not fresh. So it wasn't really surprising that we didn't have a can opener in our house. And even if we had one in the past, nobody knew where it was, or what had happened to it as this item has never been in use. Now suddenly, when I got an unexpected gift of these two canned fish items the problem struck home. There they sat on the pantry shelf, the two cans, grinning wickedly at my plight. The cans knew that without an opener I just wouldn't able to gain access to their insides.

I was now confronted with the question of where to get a can opener. Do you go to a hardware store or or an expensive shopping mall, or try your luck at the hundreds of stalls on the pavements of Gariahat with the hawkers selling their myriad wares on the pavements? I decided to ask one of my knowledgeable friends, who lives alone and seems to thrive well doing it. So last night I paid him a little visit and popped this question to him: where does one go looking for a can opener. The question seemed to shake him up. My friend, who was such a pundit, in surviving alone in a hostile world, went into a deep meditation. Upon emerging from his , what seemed to me to be a small nap, his pontifical opinion was as he had obtained his can opener from Germany, a gift from his wife there, he was equally clueless as to which shops I should be visiting to look for a can opener. So much for a friend's guidance.

This afternoon I decided to tackle the problem myself. Alone and without anybody's help, assistance, or guidance. I marched into the basement shops at Gariahat Market, a one and a half minute's walk from my house. I walked up to the first shop, which was a shop selling stationery items, clearly not a place that would be carrying a can opener. When I asked the guy sitting in that shop where I coud get a can opener he looked at me as if I had come from Mars. Then I explained what I needed that item for. Oh, he exclaimed, all smiles now, saying what I needed was a "tin cutter". He pointed to the stairs and told me to go up one floor and find a shop selling stainless steel pots and pans. It was there that I would get the "tin cutter" I was looking for. And that is precisely what I did. As I climbed up one floor, I came upon this stainless steel pots and pans shop facing me. I walked up smartly to the shop-keeper and said I was looking for a "tin cutter". Immediately he produced three or four different varieties of can openers. I picked one up and made the purchase and walked back home.

Looking for a can opener for me has been an eye opener. A valueable lesson learnt that one must rely on one's own judgment and decision and act on it instead of asking one and sundry and get nowhere.

Justice delayed, but not denied.

This terrorist along with several others sailed across the ocean into India in the month of November, 2008. They clambered ashore in Mumbai and went about their grim business.

We all know what happened on the night of November 26th, 2008.in Mumbai , and how a landmark international hotel went up in flames. Hundreds of innocents fell to the hail of bullets from the terrorists at several places. The entire country stood still and watched in horror as all our best and finest went into combat. A top police officer fell to a bullet of one terrorist. Of the ten or so terrorists who had come, only one survived our retaliation and was captured. Only one.

He was kept in the highest security prison cell after he was revived to face trial. The cost of all the security, just to ensure that this prize prisoner be kept alive till the last, so that we could squeeze as much intelligence out of him as possible, was astronomical. In fact an ex Army General was heard to say that this prisoner, who had waged an act of war against India did not deserve a free and fair trial. He should be stood up against a wall, no questions asked, and taken down as a common vermin, or an enemy of the state.

Though it was clear that our neighbouring country was where they had come from, there were violent denials from them and a lot of posturing between us and them continued endlessly. Years passed while the trial lingered on. Many thought that the prisoner would probably die of old age and natural causes in his cell without ever the trial coming to an end and reaching a finality.

 But the trial finally ended. Justice finally did catch up with this animal. The highest court of the land has confirmed the death sentence. Ajmal Kasab shall finally be put to death.

Justice may have been delayed, in the opinion of many. But not eventually denied.

Idleness, the great cure

Recently I had suffered a great setback. Without going into details, which I shall refrain from as they are of little interest to others, it is enough to say here that I was near breaking point. And for a various mix of things over which I had little control.

Fortunately, an unplanned twist of events suddenly found me plucked, as it were from the very eye of the storm that was tossing me around, and I found myself in a tranquil, quiet spot, far from all the noise and chaos that was tearing me apart.

At first the angst of all that I had left behind as part of unfinished jobs, untended chores et al kept haunting me in my dreams (read nightmares) and I lay up nights tossing in bed.But after the first week things started to quieten down.

The days pass in idle langour. My cell phone has been deliberately kept switched off. I do not open my e-mails anymore. I don't even sit before news channels on the TV or even pick up the daily newspapers.

I am deliberately doing all this in order to cultivate a disconnect with the world that has been so troublesome to me lately. I just eat, sleep, read books that I have always longed to have the time to read, take long walks along empty stretches and breathe in the sharp, clean air that is so not there in the noisy and hellish metropolis I've just left back for a little respite.

I am leading an extremely idle life, not necessarily an ideal one. But for me, wounded as I've been of late, I find that over the last week I am healing from inside out. I sorely need this to happen. Another couple of weeks of this therapy and I think I shall be healed enough to go back to where I came from.

Idleness then can be a cure.