Bring this man here!

So the chap who engineered and executed the Delhi Metro rail has been feted as the Indian of the Year by a TV channel. And apparently he won the honour because (and quite strangely) the public sector man got the metro done in time, efficiently and without taking bribes. Great!

Okay, can we now have this rare gent out here in Mumbai to put the city’s collapsed rail and road network on track? Can we make him the CEO of Mumbai? What use is stunning development in Delhi for the rest of the suffering Indians?

It’s often said Mumbai gets shortchanged by the central netas because they live in the capital city, and are concerned only about that place. And we Mumbaikars constantly carp that all the taxes generated out of the city get used to propping by Dilli.

Well, now’s the time to raise our voices, to collectively stop paying taxes till this Mr Sreedharan is transported to Mumbai. Do we gutless Mumbai people have the balls to do this? I think not. Also, I guess once Mr Sreedharan arrives, the corrupt local politicians would get busy thinking out ways and means to get his return ticket.

So sorry for wasting your time with this post. We are destined to go down the tube (no, not the railway one). Just needed to get this off my burning chest.

The marathon party

There are some issues you don’t speak against in Mumbai, or you run the risk of being considered a social outcaste and an unfash loser. One such is the Mumbai Marathon, which is apparently underway as I write this.

Well, true to character, here goes. I think the Marathon is nothing but a crass nautanki, it sucks bigtime and is a hip fraud perpetrated upon the unsuspecting masses. If you have to do public service, do it quietly and without messing up the already choked city roads. Adopt a child. Donate money to your fav charity. Send your maid’s kids to school. You know the list. But running on the streets to raise funds for dubious causes or to create awareness on issues the world and its father already knows about is utter crap.

I think the Marathon is nothing more than a group of celebs and wannabes desperate to get some free media coverage, it’s a Page 3 party held outdoors. And it’s the outdoor touch that makes it novel and therefore popular. No one knows where all the prizes and monies end up, there is no transparency and who cares anyways. All we know is that some desperate for cash Kenyan or Nigerian hits pay dirt, and that’s that.

Now, if people want a quaint party on the streets once a year, so be it. But then let’s call it a Marathon bash, and I am happy to live with that. Only hope your nana or nani doesn’t need urgent medical attention today. This wild party has no time or patience for the sick and the dying.

Indian of the Year

Was watching the NDTV Indian of the Year awards. I disagree with their choice of Dr Manmohan Singh. My vote goes to the Juhu new year molester. Why? Here goes:

1. He put the final nail in the long-held myth that Mumbai is the last remaining safe city in India, as far as women go.

2. Having done that, he now walks free, head held high.

3. And has some high profile netas going out of their way to make him a hero.

4. He has reminded us, in no uncertain terms, that HE is the real Indian. That all the talk of sensex, riches, fashion and modernity is just an insignificant one percent of India.

My winner, no doubt.

Nano, the elitist car

Every time I express huge concern over the launch of the ‘lakhtakiya’ gaadi, and the resultant chaos on the city roads, I get reprimanded with, “Why, must only the elite drive cars?”

My point is, in the already messy metros like Mumbai, Delhi and Bangalore, the Nano will indeed turn out to be an elitist car. Here’s my theory, and quite frantically, I think I’ve got it right: a vast majority of customers will come from the high income segment, folks who will invest in Nano as the third, fourth or (heavens!) fifth car, for the lady, the mistress, the kids or even Moti, the dog. They will buy it for fun, for learning or simply for kicks. In a market where one crore has become one lakh, you can assume what value these people will place on the Nano. And this is the segment that, with money power, will swing in extra parking slots in their residential colonies, and if that doesn’t work, wouldn’t mind parking this cheapo car on the streets… who gives a damn if the local car lifter does his number.

And contrary of what experts believe, it isn’t really the bikers who’ll ‘upgrade’ to a Nano. In large cities like Bombay, the key reason they chose bikes is not because they are broke, but because they can’t afford parking spaces, and because with a bike, they can maneuver the city roads quickly. None of these two needs will obviously be satisfied by the Nano. If at all, owning a Nano as the first car puts an unhip label on a family, when a car is expected to be a status symbol!

Now, for sure Nano will find appeal with the lower income groups in smaller towns and villages, but it WILL be bought by the new money sods of Lokhandwala Complex in Bombay and Koramangala in Bangalore. And that’s what’s giving me the creeps.

Funnily, in our cities, the Nano will be the rich man’s car, not quite in keeping with the lofty social ambitions of Mr Tata.

Monkey biz

I don’t get this: why do the Aussies find the monkey barb to be racist and offensive? I have tried to understand this from every angle, and don’t get it. The animal is much revered in India (some quick googling by Ponting will tell him that). We all descended from the apes, so where’s the racism? I have skimmed through Aussie folklore and find no reference to monkey curse or any such thing. At its worst, it’s a naughty jibe, nothing you can’t sort out over some chilled Foster’s. I guess the Oz team simply wanted to fix the combustible Sardar (they like Indians to be meek always), and once they got the handle, they moved on him.

Incidentally, my friend Satish from Mid Day seems to have got it right: What the kangaroos heard as ‘MONKEY!’ was actually Bhajji shrieking “MAA KI!” Hmm. This tour is really getting interesting by the hour.

Migrants to blame?

Quite predictably, the netas have got into the molesting act, and Uddhavji is quick to blame the migrants for the problem. Though now he’s gone into hiding after it emerged that over half of the accused are the so-called sons of the soil.

And busy columnists (I am a blogger these days as no one will hire my services, hehe), have jumped onto the migrant-versus-local debate. Some suggest that migrants have lowered the bar in the city. Others scream this is a city of migrants, so how can one put out accusing fingers.

And I just find the whole debate laughable.

Because, migrants or locals, we Indian men are the bloody same, we are blood brothers when it comes to the issue of treating women as inferior beings. Read my answer to Gitanjali in the comments section of my earlier post for more details.

So the ‘good’ news is we desi cads have at least one thing in common: we may fight over places of worship, rivers, land masses, culture, food, etc, but when it comes to views on women, we are all the bloody same.

They asked for it?

This is the same headline I used in a city newspaper when I commented on the recent rape and murder of a BPO girl from Pune. My point, which some readers misunderstood, because the figure of speech went over them, wasn’t that the poor girl literally asked for the crime. It’s just that having been aware of the fate that waited another girl in similar circumstances in Bangalore only a couple of years ago, the Pune lass should have been careful in her actions. Like, she ought to have refused going to work alone with the cabbie in the middle of the night.

Anyway, that column cost me dearly, the newspaper in question has curtailed both, the frequency and scope of my writings. Do I regret it? Of course not. For one, I apologised because the lingo went over some people’s heads and they felt offended as a result, and two, I stand by the point I was making. Thus, the gruesome headline is back.

I cannot understand why, on such a provocative night, in areas known to be frequented by drunk taporis, some girls choose to hit the streets. These areas are well known. Gateway of India, Juhu beach, Chowpatty, etc. And basic common sense would tell women to exercise caution. Like, if they wanted to collect their car or hire a rick/cab, a hotel like the Marriott would be happy to help. And if they simply stepped out for a walk, them um, yup, they asked for it.

Blaming the cops is absolutely silly in these situations, they cannot possibly monitor every street of the city. This is a cultural, sociological issue, indecent and beastly men exist in our midst, and they get particularly harmful on celebratory nights. And we know the joints they usually hang out on, the Juhu area if their fav for New Year. This is well known, and yet, some women choose to take their chances.
And to say the girls could have been out-of-towners is no excuse; in such a case, they ought to be even more careful on such nights.

So is one suggesting one should not condemn this incident? Of course not. Of course, the swines should be heavily punished to teach others a lesson. But I am sorry, I believe some responsibility also lies with the victims. I said that in the case of the Pune BPO girl, and I say it again. Thankfully, no one will stop my blog for my comments.

Bachchan’s sorrow

However aged your parent might be, however unwell he/she might be, their loss hits you very hard, it changes you as a person. I lost my dad many years ago, so I know the feeling. So when Bachchan’s mom passed away, I was wondering how he would react.
I guess the impact might have been a bit different in his case. Because he’s lived this situation over and over again on the screen.

The television images of Bachchan looking forlorn and lost at his mom’s funeral reminded me of something he said to a newsmag many years ago. I don’t remember the exact words, but he mentioned how, after enacting so many poignant scenes of a son losing his mother, he would not know how to react when it happened in real life. My most memorable sequence is from Ramesh Sippy’s highly underrated film, Shakti. Bachchan, playing the estranged son, comes to pay his last respects to his dead mother (played by Rakhee). And all he does is briefly clutch at his father’s (played by Dilip Kumar) arm, not a single word gets spoken, all emotion expressed through the eyes. My hunch is this sequence is the closest to what might have transpired inside Prateeksha.

Still, it would be interesting to find out what emotions ran through him. Or whether he felt nothing at all. Will ask him when the time is right, and post his comments on this blog.

Happy New Year!