Who’s having a blast?

The terrorists, for one, and we all know that. I was wondering who else was having a good time in the country… (For the uninitiated, I’m referring to this piece of news.)

The Excise officials?
I’ve done a lot of driving across state (and district) borders. The check-nakas or border check posts that dot the borders of states and are meant to curb transport of items for which the state has not collected tax. So, while driving out of Goa many a times, my car has been checked thoroughly for a bottle of Scotch that I could’ve hidden. But the search stops the moment you shell out some money. On an average, about 200 rupees per bottle… So, how much would the guy at the check-post have pocketed to pass these explosive-laden cars? Or did he already meet his 'target' for the day and decided not to check?

The TV News channels?
I was shocked at the number of advertisements cut-in during the reports of the blasts at Ahmedabad. The products were (probably strategically) selected to suit the target audience (Gujaratis) who were anxiously watching the program. How low will our media go? Only time will tell. In the meantime, we shall watch footages of the blast victims with a soundtrack of some b-grade movie song suggesting tragic loss! Sad? I’m not sure, but it sure as s#!t ain’t funny. But your media doesn’t give a damn! They’re already having a blast and laughing all the way to the bank.

The Intelligence community?
Well, they ‘were’ having a blast till the actual blasts took place. Now the poor guys are being blamed for whatever has happened. C’mon now! They were probably the ones who were actually gathering ‘intelligence’ about activities around them. Now does it really matter what those activities were? They can do just this much in their 10 to 5 jobs (leave home at 10, come back at 5). And the moment they are about to close-in on a lead, dang! It’s lunch-time. Or whenever they can get some verifiable intelligence, the media gets the leak and splash it on TV. Ejaz bhai will no doubt be thanking the media for helping him get away on time!

The police?
What they lack in ‘intelligence’, they make up with imagination. Like blaming Dr Talwar for his daughter’s death and creating a story around it. I really have a feeling that a section of our cops get together and smoke some 's#!t' whenever appraised of a ‘situation’. Arresting the culprit in Ahmedabad the day after the blast? Ingenious! But the unfortunate thing is that not even a jehadi is stupid enough to hang around the blast site and survey his handiwork. He’d rather be half-way across the world for all he cares.

The politicians?
Well, for sure! The NDA is cashing in on the blasts and trying to sweep the no-confidence debacle under the carpet. The Congress is frothing at the mouth swearing vengeance at the perpetrators of these ‘acts of senseless violence against innocent persons’. Other political parties have also rallied to ‘condemn’ the ‘unfortunate incidents’. It's business as usual, with the opposition too glad that something covered up the NC motion.


The blogosphere?
Oh yes! People like me who write and you who read. We’d like to know more. I was going through a similar write-up on one of my favorite blogs and I found this comment. Now the question is how many of us would’ve actually made that phone call? The more difficult question is, ‘How many of us would’ve confronted them?’ I know only a few who would, but the others would let it slide. And then discuss with shock and disgust about the state of affairs.

The corporates?
Sitting on ‘ergonomically engineered’ chairs in climate controlled offices looking at monitors with radiation protection, these guys (me included) cry hoarse at the UPA govt. revoking the POTA and other issues that are important. We cringe if the temperature in our work areas is a couple of degrees off and pat goes the call to the maintenance. Do we realize that we can demand the same level of service from the government? Like someone suggested, not pay taxes for the year if there’s been a blast in your state? Or not pay road tax if you find 10 pot-holes in your daily commute route? Guess not… Is it ‘cos you ‘re too effin lazy (like me) or because you don’t give a f$%k (like me again)?

So, it seems that all except the victims (and their kin) of the blast are actually having a blast. It’s sad, but true – We don’t give a rat’s ass for someone else’s problem. I hope I realize – and not too late – that one day it’s going to be MY problem. But till then, this cycle will continue and it will be another city, another set of innocent victims.

Say what? If you don’t leave a comment, I’ll get the message! Hehe

Disclaimer: This post was not written to hurt your sensitivities and I had no one particular in mind but myself.

The City of Joy…

(Exhibit 1)

(Exhibit 2)

Well, it finally happened. My trip to Kolkota finally materialized. Two and a half eventful days, and I’m a convert.

Thanks to the clock-work efficiency of the Tatas, I got picked up from the airport and dropped at a well-maintained guest house in Salt lake. Had maach-bhaat and bhindi bhaja for dinner, which the caretaker was only too happy to serve thank to my rusty Bengali. The next morning, the adventures started with a phone call from the Kolkata office. They gave me a mobile number and a name. The number, I withhold, the name was Tuntun.

The name didn’t surprise me much since I’d already read a Bengali A-Z of sorts that claimed “G is for Good name. Every Bengali Boy will have a good name like Debashish or Deboprotim and a pet name like Shontuda, Chonti, and Dinku. While every Bengali Girl will be Paromita or Protima as well as Shampa, Champa and Buri. Basically your nickname is there to kill your good name.”

Oh, coming back to Tuntun. Tuntun was my driver designate for the day. A deadly combination of Rajpal Yadav physique and Sunny Deol demeanor. A mean motha’ with a profound dislike of any form of life and an equally profound fetish for trashy music. I was driven to Park Street listening to the likes of Vishwaatma’s “Dil le gayi teri bindiya, yaad aa gaya mujhko India” which roughly translates into ‘Your bindi has taken my heart, I remember India’. Before I could recollect a more shallow poem, I was dropped at hotel Peerless Inn.

I meet Ayan (pronounced ‘awe’ – ‘yawn’ as explained by him) and Arya, my colleagues in Kolkata. By the time we were done with meeting our client, the whole of Esplanade area is swarming with (an estimated 200,000) Trinamool Congress party workers. Now TMC (as the party is called), is headed by this lady called Mamta Bannerjee. I have never seen a more disturbed-looking politician. Ever! The poor lady never seems to be happy. Her promotional snaps always show a woman in a fit of rage. Or pointing an admonishing finger. Or plain constipated!

Anyway, Ayan had the presence of mind to tell Tuntun to wait away from the madhouse and we begin to walk. The worst part was getting 10 meters from the gate of our clients’ office through a sea of humanity hired and transported from the fringes of Kolkata (even civilization) and fortified with country liquor. Then, an hour or so later, we make a pit-stop at Nizams. I eat a much-awaited double-egg-double-mutton roll and a mutton tikiya. Ayan and Arya ordered biriyaani, which I politely decline given my unshakeable support of Hyderabad (and it’s biriyaani). We then digest them with another half-hour walk and half-hour wait and we are finally at the Kolkata office around 5 PM. I meet with Saurav ‘the Rockstar’ Chatterjee, Monami, Ishika, Shibani, Manju and the others who’d come back from Mumbai. Meet a few more of the staff at Kolkata, finish some work and crash! And did those legs hurt …

The next day was pretty uneventful work-wise. We weren’t driven by Tuntun. However, I went to meet my wife’s Pishi (Aunt) and her family. My first-hand experience of Bengali hospitality in Kolkata, and I was floored. Both my wife and my father-in-law have exalted Pishi’s cooking and I found out why. Pishi disappeared for a couple of minutes and reappeared with some Mughlai Paratha, Chicken, and Aaloo bhaja. Then came Rosogolla and Sandesh (Bengali sweets). Finally Pishaji forced me (and I thank him for that!) to have some divine mishti-doi (Sweet Curd). And that, according to her, were starters! I would’ve made her proud were it about a year ago when I was known for my ‘legendary’ appetite. But things change over time and I regretted having lunch… Pishi wasn’t too happy to see a ‘Jomai’ without an appetite. I promise to not disappoint her the next time and reluctantly say my good-byes. Then as usual, to work and then crash!

The third day, I am greeted again by Tuntun. This time, I ensure that both Ayan and Arya ‘face the music’ like I did the first day. We had a pretty long drive to Sonarpur and we were tripping on cult classics like Disco Dancer, Dance Dance, and other masterpieces of a ‘higher’ being called ‘Bappida’. On our way back, we had to ensure the doors were locked, coz we feared that Arya would jump out, but that didn’t happen and by the end of the trip, and we had another believer! I drop them at work, get driven to the airport (about 25 KM away) in 15 mins flat by Tuntun, and take the flight to Mumbai. I had a rather chatty co-passenger named Arnab (pronounced like doorknob, without the D) but his enthusiasm was no match for my sleepiness. Sorry Arnab.

Some things that this trip opened my eyes to:
There are always two sides to any Indian city. The clean side (Exhibit 1) and the other side.
Even Kolkata has bad English. (Exhibit 2)
Bengalis love to eat and to feed.
No one makes sweets like the Bengalis.
Being the jomai (son-in-law) is pretty cool!
Bengali women are pretty.
Malayalis are given ‘honorary’ Bengali status, especially the ones married to Bengalis :)

Rain, rain

Image courtesy BBC

The rains… they arrived about a month ago in Mumbai. A much needed respite from the heat… And in keeping with the times, there’s bundled offers too! Traffic congestion, the flu, pot-holes, the works!

However, one thing I’ve failed to understand is, when we all know that it IS going to rain around this time of the year, why doesn’t the Municipality? Why is the garbage cleaned (from the sewers onto the streets) just before the rains? Is this something they teach the BMC, NDMC, GHMC, and all the other MC (no pun intended) hopefuls?

If you ask them: What about the monsoon? How ready are we? You will most probably hear:
What about the monsoon? (Once you explain to them the concept of water precipitating from the skies, there’s a flicker and pat comes the response) Oh rain? Who can ever be ready for the rain? It is an act of nature. The Gods decide that and we are but mere pawns in His scheme. Did we predict the earthquakes? What about the Tsunami? The volcanic eruptions, suicide bombings, dumb TV anchors… these are natural calamities. And we should know better than to question His will. You people are hard to please!

And when asked how other countries are predicting and forecasting it, (The following is quoted from this interview and is NOT fictional)
One reason is their science and technology is better. Secondly, their weather pattern, their science of weather is different. Here up to 3 o' clock, there will be no cloud but at 4 you will get a cloud and by 5 it will rain. This won't happen in the US. If it's going to rain there at 4 pm, by morning there will be clouds. Even two days prior it will be known that clouds are coming. But not so in our country.
If the Americans are asked to issue a forecast for India, they will also do badly (laughs). That's what I feel because our weather pattern is difficult. When you assess a forecast skill, don't assess the (Indian Meteorological Department) IMD's skill with the skill of the USA. It is like comparing Tendulkar with a school cricket boy. It is meaningless.
You should compare the weather forecasting capability of India with any country in the tropics, that is a reasonable comparison. I am not saying the IMD is doing the best job, but it is uneasy for me to compare the IMD skill US or UK. You can compare India to Thailand or to some extent Korea, Singapore. Among the tropical countries, we are leaders, that's what I feel.

Now, I can sleep well, safe in the knowledge that the ‘Sachin Tendulkar’ of weather forecasting is watching out for us. And I’m done cribbing! We’re at-least better than Bangladesh! Or Vietnam, or Sudan, or Somalia in forecasting the weather.

Rest In Peace, my MPX

Love me tender...

My beloved companion of three years, my Motorola MPX 220 Smartphone is fighting for its life. I made a tough decision to take it off life support today.

I knew she had to be mine the moment I saw her, a successful model in the US. A love story spanning continents. She was born in the USA, and me in Gods own country. She was sleek, sophisticated, and sensitive. I was (let’s leave that aside) and let's just say opposites attract.

The day she came to my life, she changed it. It was one of the first models to feature Windows Mobile™ 5.0. The activesync feature enabled it to sync with my PC and update all my appointments and contacts. Suddenly, I she was privy to every event in my life however minor (buy sugar) or major (anniversaries, birthdays)… She accompanied me on every trip and listened in to all my conversations.

Of course there were some (major) cultural differences. Like she couldn’t use the Indian electricity sockets, or the standard mini USB cables. But love transcends all boundaries. We decided we shall never part ways till… (sniff… sniff…)

I detected the early signs of illness when one day, out of the blue, she collapsed. I revived her (restarted) and this became an almost weekly chore to reboot (oops transfuse). Her condition only deteriorated from there on… She refused to communicate with anyone other than my virtual half (my office PC) and would not sync with any other. I accepted that as a part of her illness and moved on.

Then her condition took a turn for the worse… She refused to be charged by anything other than her data cable. Then she used to collapse unless on life support (charging) and her heart (battery) became feeble. But her brain (processor) was still sharp as ever. Never did I have to wait for her to tell me her secrets (data retrieval was lightning fast). I had to carry the cable wherever I was going and if I didn’t carry the notebook along, I had to plan my route to stop at places with PCs. And life went on…

Then one day I think she felt that she was becoming a burden on my mobility. With her hooked on, she almost became a desk phone. She decided to take her own life. She refused to charge using the data cable. I tried CPR (cold boot, hot boot, what not) and finally managed to twist her charger in a way that she could charge. But this morning she stopped responding to life support as well…

I shall be putting her to rest over the weekend and even though I may buy a new phone, I know it will never be as special as her. Adieu my love, we shall meet again in gadget heaven.

Crude and rude...

"Nobody fleecess you like the government, and you look to fleece the government like nobody else" - said a wise man (ahem) once.

As of today, an Indian in Mumbai pays about INR 55.88 per liter of petrol. The left parties, the only party that thinks in India, declared a bandh to protest this hike. How inventive! And why didn't anyone else think of that? Strike work and the prices come back to normal... simple, innit? But no, the big, bad government saw through their trick and refused to bring down the price. Why? This is what I'm trying to answer today.

Now, readers, please let me know if I'm going wrong. Chandu and I tried this once (incidentally when the crude price touched $100 a barrel) and were a bit embarrassed thinking we got it wrong...

For all calculations here, I am using market close data of June 6, 2008. That fateful day, the price of crude was $138.50 per barrel and the Dollar was trading for 42.89 Rupees.

On all days, 1 barrel = 31 gallons and 1 gallon = 3.7854118 liters. Therefore, 1 barrell = 117.347765 liters.

Now, on to the calculations:

1 barrel crude oil costs USD 138.50 or INR 5940.27 (138.50 * 42.89)

so, 1 liter crude oil costs INR 50.62 (5940.27 / 117.347765)

Depending on the purity of crude and the refining process used, you get anything ranging from 30% to 70%. (You get up to 70% if you use light crude and advanced catalytic or hydro or thermal cracking, alkylation, polymerization or what not.) So I'd be safe (and quick) to assume a yeild of about 50%. Which means if you buy 1 liter of crude, you get only 1/2 liter of petrol.

Thus, the 'cost' of 1 liter of pertol is INR 101.24

Now, add to this those delightful miscellanies that WE have to pay so happily each time we buy petrol (or anything for that matter) like VAT, custom for crude, custom for petrol, sales tax, octroi, education cess(!??!!) etc., and other stuff like dealer commission, transportation, and what do we have? The 'sell' price of around INR 150 per liter (this is being extremely optimistic and assuming only about a third of the duties and stuff..)

So, the government loses about INR 100 per liter of petrol sold at today's price! Well, let's put this into perspective. According to this study, in Delhi, with over 466 signalized intersections, 3,21,432 litres of Petrol is being burnt every day due to the idling of vehicles. So, the government spends INR 32 million (3.2 crore rupees) daily only on idling cars in Delhi. Another very optimistioc assumption I shall hazard here is that the whole nation consumes only 1000 times of the petrol that is 'idled' away in Delhi. That translates to a loss of about INR 32 billion (3,200 crore rupees) loss for the government in a day. And about INR 11,688 billion (11,68,800 crore rupees) a year! Whew...

Disturbing, isn't it? I sincerely hope I'm making some mistake in my calculations here... Someone please tell me I'm wrong...

Caste-ing (c)ouch!

The caste system that was prevalent in the Indian society granted different privileges to a person based oh their caste. This is similar to the path-breaking proposal earlier by your truly. So, it essentially meant that if you are a low caste, you can not drink from the same well, pray in the same temple, eat certain things, what not. So, one would naturally assume that being a low caste kinda sucked, right?

WRONG! Boys and Girls, Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the world of reservations! A new ideology where the ‘in’ thing is to be an outcast!

How? Very simple! If you belong to a particular category, you can get whatever job you want, go to whatever institution with a fraction of the effort! And yes, you can compete in the general category as well if you’re half as good. If you don’t get through, there’s the backdoor. This backdoor is called reservation.

Now that the concept is clear, I’d like to introduce you to a disturbing trend. Despite a ceiling of 50% (WTF??!!) on reservation, a state like Tamilnadu has 69% reservation. Another interesting fact is that 87% of the state’s population qualifies for it! That means that 7 out of every 10 buses that ply in Tamilnadu are driven by someone who didn’t ‘quite’ know how to drive! Scary? You bet it is!

Unfortunately, the sad part is that 13% of the population has to work twice or thrice as hard to get into the same college or job. But who cares? Even an illiterate can do the math – 87 votes is more than 13.

Seats are reserved for Schedules Castes, Scheduled Tribes, and Other Backward Castes (based chiefly on caste at birth) in varying ratio by the central government and state government. This caste is decided based on birth, and can never be changed. While a person can change his religion, and his economic status can fluctuate, the caste is permanent. In central government funded higher education institutions, 22.5% of available seats are reserved for Scheduled Caste (Dalit) and Scheduled Tribe (Adivasi) students (15% for SCs, 7.5% for STs). This reservation percentage has been raised to 49.5%, by including an additional 27% reservation for OBCs. In AIIMS 14% of seats are reserved for SCs, 8% for STs. In addition, SC/ST students with only 50% scores are eligible. This ratio is followed even in Parliament and all elections where few constituencies are earmarked for those from certain communities. For example, In Andhra Pradesh, 25% of educational institutes and government jobs for BCs, 15% for SCs, 6% for STs and 4% for Muslims. (That's 50%!)

And something very interesting is happening in Rajasthan as you read this: the Gujjar community wants to avail reservations and are fighting (and violently at that) to be called Scheduled Castes! To put that in perspective that we can identify, it’s like Amitabh Bachhan wanting to be a porn star so that his son can get a government job! Yes. It is that ridiculous!

Is there a way out? IMHO, the only way out is education. The whole “I will not send my son to school, but I want him to be a CEO” shit won’t fly… What we need is a paradigm shift. Reservation is just an excuse for being mediocre. According to the Sachar Commission, the Indian Muslim is not being provided the right education. And according to a related report, the Indian Christian has the highest literacy and the lowest employment rate. I agree with the BJP when they say that the reports have been manipulated for electoral reasons.

So, where will this end? I think the constitution should declare that all Indians are Scheduled Castes. And remove religion from the equation.

If you are still wondering why we can not co-exist peacefully, it’s because we have been divided by OUR constitution and played on this ever since by OUR leaders!

Read No Evil...

Caution: Longish, severely MCPish and anti-Feminazzi post

Do we really (like really, really) need Taslima back?

Taslima Nasreen, described as “a physician, a writer, a radical feminist, human rights activist and a secular humanist” by her official website, is craving to come back to Calcutta. The literary circles and activist groups are crying hoarse about her plight. Why? For those new to the newest poster-child for freedom of speech, here’s why…

Excerpts from Wikipedia: (What would we ever be without Wikipedia…)

“Taslima Nasreen is a Bengali Bangladeshi ex-physician turned feminist author who describes herself as a secular humanist. From a modest literary profile in the late 1980s, she achieved a meteoric rise to global fame by the end of the twentieth century, for her severe criticism of Islam and of religion in general.”

“Autobiographical books of Taslima raised controversy not only because of her criticisms of Islam but also for narratives involving the private lives of people. Taslima candidly described her sexual relationship with a number of named persons. She also touched upon her relationship with her four Bangladeshi husbands. Published in 2003, Ka, her third autobiographical book, was the first to raise such issues.”

“Ka, published in Bangladesh, is a self-censored version of Dwikhonditp published in India. Dwikhonditp is said to contain critical comments on the Prophet Muhammad (according to Islamic Sharia law, criticism of Muhammad is haraam and punishable by execution, provided Sharia law is in force). The latter was also banned in India by the Calcutta High Court in the state of West Bengal on 18 November, 2004.”

Now we know why she is in exile for the last 14 years. The poor lady can not enter her own country; leave alone any country with a semblance of religion… She was unceremoniously evicted from Calcutta after fierce protests. Before that, she was assaulted during a book release in Hyderabad. She was then taken to Delhi and kept in “safe custody” fearing attempts on her life. (BTW, there is a prize on her head… In March 2007, the "All India Ittehad Millat Council" of Bareilly U.P offered 500,000 rupees for her beheading.)

All this just for being promiscuous? Or for publishing those escapades? Or, is it just because she is a raving anti-Islamist? Maybe because she criticized The Prophet? What if she wanted more money? Vanity? Fame? Attention?

We shall never know. But what we do know is that she is ‘longing’ to return to Kolkata and is wondering why the government won’t let her. She innocently asks, “Kolkata is where I had set up my home. Can't I be allowed by the West Bengal government to return to my city?” I’ll hazard a guess – The Government and the people of West Bengal don’t F#@%ing want her back. And what makes her think that India will extend her Visa? Or will we see another “Ka” about her attempts to get her Visa extended? Hmmm… Her popularity abroad is also quite evident – “In 2005, her attempt to read an anti-war poem entitled "America" to a large Bengali crowd attending the North American Bengali Conference at Madison Square Garden resulted in her being booed off the stage”

What would you do if you were in her place? How will you fight this cruel, cruel world? If you ask me, I would shut the f@#k up! I never, ever kiss and tell all. I would pray to Allah to forgive my sins and publicly apologize for my indiscretions with the pen (and whatever).

Because, my dear lady, we Indians are forgiving. But we are also sensitive people who fear God. You may have had experiences that were unfortunate. But don’t blame them on The Prophet, or The Paramatma, or The Heavenly Father. Because in India, we live by a simple code: Love your Country, honor your Gods, and respect your elders. Honestly, we don’t really care whether you believe in the same God, but we will kick your @$$ back to Bangladesh if you disrespect ours. And going by the love your people have for you, you really don’t want to go back there!


P.S.:
1) This is one post I sincerely pray my wife doesn’t read. She’s a bit left of center I’m more center of right…
2) I know you may say that I’m still being ‘analy Catholic’ (a good friend once remarked so on another issue) and a bigot… Maybe I am :(
3) Freedom of speech and slander are two entirely different things. If you call your dog my name, what stops me from naming a bitch after your mother and leave her out with street dogs and writing about it huh? I’m sorry, that’s not freedom of speech! [I am using this as an example and I do not intend to infringe on that copyright]
4) If you’ve read so far, thanks. Dude, you really have nothing better to do? *LOL*