We saw what happened to Tharoor over a remark undoubtedly made in jest. He had to walk all the power corridors of Dilli to hold on to his job. Apart from the dirty politics at play, it was yet another reminder that we Indians sorely lack the ability to laugh at ourselves, we take ourselves much too seriously and self-importantly.
I have gotten into trouble umpteenth number of times too, even though I am far removed from the world of politics. I am aware it would be immodest to state that I have a wickedly funny streak in me, but I just did it. I mean, truth is that I have many problems with my decaying mind, but I do take myself a lot less seriously.
However, this makes my life in this not-so-smiley nation of ours fraught with peril. I find myself apologising for the most silly deeds/utterances. Half my life has gone saying sorry, I kid you not.
Let me give you only a few quick examples, that come to mind immediately.
At a party in Delhi, where I was working in an ad agency, I threatened to drop some beer over the head of a trade press journo who was always reporting unsavoury things about my agency. Instead of laughing it off, she went and lodged an official complaint with her big bosses in Mumbai. Accusing me of violent intimidation! Only a quick ‘sorry’ snipped out what was threatening to spiral into a corporate battle.
During my visit to the tsunami ravaged Nagapattinum, as I was chatting up with some survivors, standing by the sea, a chopper flew extremely low overhead. Someone screamed, “Jayalalitha! Jayalalitha!” And I could not help with ‘Duck for cover, guys… she’s crashing into us!’ A light remark made to bring some unexpected cheer to the sad survivors, who in fact had a good laugh. But I was quickly surrounded by the local cops and babus, who almost got me exported out of Tamil Nadu.
I once wrote in a newspaper column that an Ekta Kapoor serial, featuring a reclusive bachelor tycoon with a fetish for pets, was inspired from Ratan Tata’s life. It had the corporate cell of Tatasons call me for explanations and a ‘clear and unambiguous’ apology.
At an organisation I was an employee with, the lady HR head asked me to suggest one key improvement in the company that would help my team’s productivity rise. Since my guys had no real issues (except leaky toilets), I joked: ‘The HR girls need to have coffee with my boys.’ Promptly, I was summoned to the MD’s office to explain the remark.
Another time I wondered how the desi chauffeurs would pronounce the car’s name, when Skoda’s ‘Laura’ was launching in the market. And my computer crashed with the load of irate reader e-mails.
I could go on, this is endless, really. I have always believed the evolution of a nation cannot be measured by its GDP or nukes or medical science or architecture or its quality of life. It has gotta be by the ability of its citizens to laugh at themselves.
Sorry, if I have offended any reader!
Sunday, 4 October 2009
Thursday, 10 September 2009
Diary of a school re-union
I recently met up with my mates from school, about twenty of them, almost all of them after a staggering period of thirty years. The experience was both, exhilarating and disappointing at the same time.
Let me explain: quite obviously, it’s extremely gratifying to re-connect with lost childhood pals and colleagues. Not just for the emotions and memories at play, but also because we knew each other long before we met our respective partners, adulthood friends and work colleagues. School buddies are a part of one’s formative years, and the bonds and experiences we shared are singularly precious: unadulterated, uncorrupted, innocent and naïve. In other words, we knew each other long before the reality of the big bad world invaded our lives. Before we stepped into a sordid life of career ambitions, raising families, battling all the yorkers life throws at us… even survival (terror attacks have become more common in modern times than Rakhee Sawant’s appearances on TV).
I, like many of you, have been invited to college re-unions, management institute re-unions, office re-unions, family re-unions… and I have either ducked them, or have taken part in them as a ‘time-pass’ exercise. Have some pegs, indulge in some silly shoo-sha, discuss the weather, and then head for home. But a school re-meet is uniquely alluring. It’s a rarest of rare chance to catch up with purity and innocence again.
However, I was left a tad empty and disillusioned. The general feeling I got at our little gathering, is that people have irreversibly moved on in life, have been so hugely influenced by adulthood, that they no longer cherish the innocence of childhood. I was searching for lads and lasses at the re-union, I instead ran into very serious men and women. And some old fogies too. In parts, I felt I was participating in a corporate meet, a seminar, a heavy-duty conclave (gosh!). Had we sat an hour longer, we would have been discussing environmental pollution, Mumbai’s crumbling infrastructure and the stock market fluctuations. The guys were so damn formal, solemn and matter-of-fact. These weren’t folks I grew up with, they were complete strangers.
Some people feel I am being ‘childish’. That I am stuck in the past. Maybe they are right. But that’s pretty ironical, when you consider my chosen profession: my job is bloody serious. Serious as hell. As a journo, I constantly have to stare at, analyse and report on the dark underbelly of this nation. This 24X7 life rolling in dirt and grime can often be very depressing, it catapults you into adulthood in like nano-seconds.
Which is why, to be honest, I am a little rattled. Maybe the problem lies with me. Maybe I am too emotional of the past. Maybe I don’t move on easily. Maybe I value innocence more than the others do. Maybe I don’t live my life in water-tight compartments. I must be deranged! Dunno. No easy answers, I guess.
Let me explain: quite obviously, it’s extremely gratifying to re-connect with lost childhood pals and colleagues. Not just for the emotions and memories at play, but also because we knew each other long before we met our respective partners, adulthood friends and work colleagues. School buddies are a part of one’s formative years, and the bonds and experiences we shared are singularly precious: unadulterated, uncorrupted, innocent and naïve. In other words, we knew each other long before the reality of the big bad world invaded our lives. Before we stepped into a sordid life of career ambitions, raising families, battling all the yorkers life throws at us… even survival (terror attacks have become more common in modern times than Rakhee Sawant’s appearances on TV).
I, like many of you, have been invited to college re-unions, management institute re-unions, office re-unions, family re-unions… and I have either ducked them, or have taken part in them as a ‘time-pass’ exercise. Have some pegs, indulge in some silly shoo-sha, discuss the weather, and then head for home. But a school re-meet is uniquely alluring. It’s a rarest of rare chance to catch up with purity and innocence again.
However, I was left a tad empty and disillusioned. The general feeling I got at our little gathering, is that people have irreversibly moved on in life, have been so hugely influenced by adulthood, that they no longer cherish the innocence of childhood. I was searching for lads and lasses at the re-union, I instead ran into very serious men and women. And some old fogies too. In parts, I felt I was participating in a corporate meet, a seminar, a heavy-duty conclave (gosh!). Had we sat an hour longer, we would have been discussing environmental pollution, Mumbai’s crumbling infrastructure and the stock market fluctuations. The guys were so damn formal, solemn and matter-of-fact. These weren’t folks I grew up with, they were complete strangers.
Some people feel I am being ‘childish’. That I am stuck in the past. Maybe they are right. But that’s pretty ironical, when you consider my chosen profession: my job is bloody serious. Serious as hell. As a journo, I constantly have to stare at, analyse and report on the dark underbelly of this nation. This 24X7 life rolling in dirt and grime can often be very depressing, it catapults you into adulthood in like nano-seconds.
Which is why, to be honest, I am a little rattled. Maybe the problem lies with me. Maybe I am too emotional of the past. Maybe I don’t move on easily. Maybe I value innocence more than the others do. Maybe I don’t live my life in water-tight compartments. I must be deranged! Dunno. No easy answers, I guess.
Sunday, 16 August 2009
Grow up, SRK!
It was cringe-making, watching SRK whine endlessly on the TV channels all of Independence Day (he even managed to get the Red Fort and swine flu off the headlines), cribbing and carping about the extended security interrogation.
What’s the big deal, yaar? Every nation has the right to protect itself, to introduce processes and procedures that reduce chances of terror attack on its soil. If we don’t approve of its ways, there’s always that easy option: don’t go there!
SRK enjoys cult status in India, and within the NRI community abroad. They love, adore and revere the star, and clearly, all this insane adulation has gone to his head. He now expects every earthling to go down on him, and naturally, that’s not gonna happen. For an American security officer, the name Shah Rukh Khan means zilch. To him or her, all that matters is effective execution of the security protocol laid down in the book. And I admire them for this, I respect them for doing their jobs. If Muslims get peeved at being racially profiled at American ports, they must accept that it was Islamic fundamentalists who brought the twin towers down (and badly damaged America’s pride), so naturally people with Muslim names would be scanned a bit more than the rest. This is the way things are, and cannot be changed in the short run. Sadly, all the good Muslims of the world have to suffer because of the crimes committed by a few, but that’s the harsh reality. I mean, if it was a bunch of Parsis who flew aircraft into buildings, names like Mistry, Contractor and Karkaria would be scanned more carefully.
Star-loving Indians would argue that SRK is a global icon, and all that the ‘offending’ officer had to do was consult his/her ‘more informed’ Jet Airways colleagues. That’s true. But he/she won’t do that. One, because that’s not the option listed in the rule book. And American security officers are supposed to follow the rules (perhaps that’s a concept we desis just don’t understand). And two, even if the star gets recognised, how can one be 100% sure it really is SRK??? It could be a look-alike chappie from the by-lanes of Murdike, travelling on a false passport, courtesy Bin Laden! Remember, terror agents think ten steps ahead of security agencies. They innovate big, they are the guys with big ideas. (9/11 was the single biggest idea of the century.)
Net, net: SRK, like the rest of the adult world, should simply have taken the harsh questioning in the right spirit, and moved on. And if he gets pissed with these procedures, he must simply quit doing that nation. Two, I personally am very pleased by the news. If a demi-god can be scanned so hard, it makes me really feel safe travelling in that country. Good for you, America!
Friday, 14 August 2009
I entirely blame the media
By now, it is abundantly clear to every Indian that when shit hits the ceiling in this country, it’s each man or woman for his/her own. And if you still believe that the great Indian State will bail you out of the mess, then you must be a chap who still believes in Rakhi Sawant.
Whether it’s a terror attack or a flu virus, you will have to save your own arse. The government reps will only gas inside TV studios, the crooks will clean you out of your money, selling masks and meds in black, and the government run hospitals will ensure even if you didn’t contract swine flu, you got other deadly diseases, thanks to the utter lack of hygiene and discipline in their premises.
Which is why there’s chaos on the streets; people are running around like headless chicken, ignorant of what to do and who to run to when that dreaded sneeze arrives. So all we have is panic and more panic.
To my mind, the biggest villain of the story is the media. In a desperation to outdo one another on the blistering flu coverage, all they have done is to alarm the public, leading to mass hysteria in the hospitals and medical shops. Just imagine if this was 1984. The flu would have come and gone, possibly a few hundred people would have died (a thousand time more die of malaria, TB, car crashes, AIDS, common cold, dowry deaths, terror attacks and cancer), and life would have moved on as usual. For the affected, and the docs, the masks would have been easily available at the market price, and Tamiflu makers would not have made a needless killing.
All the media had to do was run basic safety precautions in a box on Page 10. Or a little section on a news bulletin, and that’s about it.
But try telling that to editors and content heads who would invent a problem to raise their TRPS and readership figures, if none existed. The virus exists!
Whether it’s a terror attack or a flu virus, you will have to save your own arse. The government reps will only gas inside TV studios, the crooks will clean you out of your money, selling masks and meds in black, and the government run hospitals will ensure even if you didn’t contract swine flu, you got other deadly diseases, thanks to the utter lack of hygiene and discipline in their premises.
Which is why there’s chaos on the streets; people are running around like headless chicken, ignorant of what to do and who to run to when that dreaded sneeze arrives. So all we have is panic and more panic.
To my mind, the biggest villain of the story is the media. In a desperation to outdo one another on the blistering flu coverage, all they have done is to alarm the public, leading to mass hysteria in the hospitals and medical shops. Just imagine if this was 1984. The flu would have come and gone, possibly a few hundred people would have died (a thousand time more die of malaria, TB, car crashes, AIDS, common cold, dowry deaths, terror attacks and cancer), and life would have moved on as usual. For the affected, and the docs, the masks would have been easily available at the market price, and Tamiflu makers would not have made a needless killing.
All the media had to do was run basic safety precautions in a box on Page 10. Or a little section on a news bulletin, and that’s about it.
But try telling that to editors and content heads who would invent a problem to raise their TRPS and readership figures, if none existed. The virus exists!
Thursday, 23 July 2009
‘VIPs’ MUST be frisked
While Kalaam hasn’t really expressed an offence at being frisked by Conti, he hasn’t yet come out and said, ‘Bugger off guys, that was no big deal.” And the lack of that rejoinder disappoints me about the nuke man.
Here’s what I think: EVERY single one of the so-called VIPs, especially the netas, MUST be frisked at airports, just as the rest of us aam janta. They are one of us, a part of us, and there’s no reason they should get special treatment.
In fact, this totally reprehensible VIP cult really gets me hopping mad, we forget that these netas aren’t our rulers and kings (last heard, we are a democratic nation, right), they are public servants, they are supposed to serve us, we, the people. And to a large extent, the crowning of the politicians is our fault, we have treated them like masters, we have spoilt them, we have encouraged them to behave like lords. (Is it any wonder then that one of them is busy building her own statues??) In many demo nations, leaders mingle freely with the janta, and expect no exclusive treatment. When I was in London, during the tube strikes, the city’s mayor grabbed his laptop and went to work along with the other passengers on a boat. Of course, he has a BMW, he simply used the moment to bond with the people, and to make a statement. I hope in our lifetime we make an effort to bring these godly figurines down to earth.
In any case, what’s the big deal about frisking? It just takes a few seconds, and if you are gay, it’s a joyful ride too. I feel sad for the airline. FIRs, show cause notices and threats to cancel the license for doing its job!!! Wow!
Here’s what I think: EVERY single one of the so-called VIPs, especially the netas, MUST be frisked at airports, just as the rest of us aam janta. They are one of us, a part of us, and there’s no reason they should get special treatment.
In fact, this totally reprehensible VIP cult really gets me hopping mad, we forget that these netas aren’t our rulers and kings (last heard, we are a democratic nation, right), they are public servants, they are supposed to serve us, we, the people. And to a large extent, the crowning of the politicians is our fault, we have treated them like masters, we have spoilt them, we have encouraged them to behave like lords. (Is it any wonder then that one of them is busy building her own statues??) In many demo nations, leaders mingle freely with the janta, and expect no exclusive treatment. When I was in London, during the tube strikes, the city’s mayor grabbed his laptop and went to work along with the other passengers on a boat. Of course, he has a BMW, he simply used the moment to bond with the people, and to make a statement. I hope in our lifetime we make an effort to bring these godly figurines down to earth.
In any case, what’s the big deal about frisking? It just takes a few seconds, and if you are gay, it’s a joyful ride too. I feel sad for the airline. FIRs, show cause notices and threats to cancel the license for doing its job!!! Wow!
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Friday, 3 July 2009
Too early to be gay and merry
Joke No 377 had to be modified, no two ways on that. If unnatural sex is criminal, most straights would be behind bars for indulging in ‘unnatural’ oral and anal sex.
However, what my gay friends need to come to terms with is this: the legal clause was never the problem, it remained only in them books. Just about no one was prosecuted for gay life, and I keep hearing these rubbish stories about blackmail by the cops… you can never catch people in the act, it happens behind closed doors. So if gay couples did give in to blackmail, it was probably because of fear of being ‘exposed’ before parents, pals, etc… which has nothing to do with the law.
Which then straight (unintended) brings me to the point I am making: The stigma and prejudice against homosexuality is not a legal problem, it’s not something a judge can order away with the stroke of a gavel. It’s a social problem, most people in this country haven’t accepted same-sex partners, and gays are almost always frowned upon or mocked at (watch Madhur Bhandarkar’s flicks for a demo). Gays are considered nature’s freaks, and it’s gonna take a very long time for these prejudices to go away. The law cannot change our beliefs, if that was so, untouchability has been declared illegal years ago, yet caste discrimination rages on across the country.
To me, this problem cannot be solved till we as a nation accept homosexuality as a trait of nature, a genetic issue, and accept it as a ground reality. And that is gonna take many, many years, maybe even decades.
So while my gay friends are celebrating on the streets, they must accept that this is a very small beginning in their long struggle to be accepted. A lot of work needs to be done, starting with public campaigns to reposition gay life in the ill-informed junta’s minds and hearts. It was never a legal problem, it’s a perception problem. Gays need communication experts and corporate honchos (to sponsor these efforts). And not lawyers and judges.
PS: One silver lining: For once, the sadhus and the mullahs and the priests have come together as one, in their protest against the modification of the clause. If nothing else, at least our homo pals made them agree on something! Gay ho!
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