Anju's World

The Semi-Arranged Hustle: Inside the Chaos of India's Digital Matrimonial Stock Market

2026-08-24T02:26:15.812-07:00

In the grand, chaotic theatre of modern Indian matchmaking, matrimony apps have become the digital equivalent of a high-stakes stock market — except instead of trading blue-chip shares, users deal in “Fair-skinned MBAs” and “Settled-Abroad Software Engineers.” Dating apps are a known jungle for the urban Indian millennial, but Indian matrimony is an entirely different ecosystem: bios ghost-written by overzealous parents, profile photos cropped from a cousin's 2018 wedding, and an “Interest Sent” notification that feels less like flirtation and more like a legal summons. Behind the sleek interfaces sits one core problem — these platforms try to force ancient cultural expectations through modern algorithms, producing a magnificent comedy of errors where high tech collides head-on with old-school anxiety.

The War of the Gatekeepers

The core confusion of the matrimonial app is an identity crisis: the “User” is rarely the “Product.” Young adults log on to find a genuine partner, but their parents hijack the platform, running it like a competitive LinkedIn ecosystem.

This creates a clash of two operating systems. Dads approach the app like corporate procurement managers, locking down strict filters for “Package, Property, and Pin code” — a candidate whose CTC lacks enough zeros is classified not as a prospective groom but as a budget deficit. Moms, meanwhile, operate like the FBI- cross-referencing a candidate's third cousin on Facebook to rule out any family history of “being too modern.”

The result is a hilarious disconnect: two young professionals match on an app only to discover their fathers have already spent three weeks BCC-ing each other salary slips and bank statements. The couple is invariably the last to know they are “spiritually compatible.”

A Masterclass in Creative Writing and Filter Fails

When users do control their own narratives, the profiles dissolve into a literary genre where reality goes to die. Coding phrases have become survival mechanisms: a “simple, down-to-earth boy who wants a blend of traditional and modern” means someone with a high-paying corporate job who still wakes at 6 a.m. to make his parents ginger tea. “Extremely fair and convent-educated” is often code for a profile written entirely by parents while the daughter prays they never find her real Instagram account. And the classic “Innocent Divorcee” tag leaves one wondering if “Guilty Divorcees” are out there plotting bank heists.

Algorithm failures compound the fiction. Select “Vegetarian,” and an over-eager AI may still serve up a man who “eats chicken only on Tuesdays.” Physical and professional metrics suffer similar inflation — a listed height of 5'11" requires a measuring tape, since he's likely 5'8" on a good day in thick-soled sneakers. And the coveted “H1-B Mirage” profiles promise tech moguls in America, only for the bride to move to Ohio and discover her husband resets corporate passwords from a windowless basement.

The Digital Bermuda Triangle

Even a genuine match can vanish into the “Digital Bermuda Triangle” of Accept & Ghost. Here, “Accepting an Interest” is the digital equivalent of a polite nod across a crowded room — it doesn't signal a desire to converse, only that your face wasn't found offensive.

The ecosystem is choked by “Match-Hoarders” — ego-collectors who treat the app like Pokémon, catching them all with zero intention of ever training one for marriage. For women with strong profiles, the inbox resembles a DDoS attack, a standard greeting instantly buried under horoscope PDFs from hyperactive parents.

Should a match survive the inbox, moving to WhatsApp launches a full diplomatic negotiation. Scheduling a first coffee date between two urban professionals feels harder than clearing the civil services exam, wedged between corporate deadlines, weddings in Udaipur, and late-night US client calls — with a mandatory LinkedIn background check thrown in to confirm he isn't a serial killer, or worse, lying about his job title. By the time the date happens, both arrive looking like they've finished a double shift in a coal mine, spending the first twenty minutes comparing calendars for the next meeting.

Even then, the vanishing act can strike at any moment, fuelled by the illusion of a better offer. The matrimonial app is the only place you can be mid-conversation about your future one minute, and in digital cold storage the next — because a “Premium Member” with a slightly higher salary clicked “Like.” The “Seen” blue ticks on WhatsApp become the tombstone of a potential marriage: you aren't being rejected, you're just on hold in case the guy with the H1-B visa doesn't reply.

The Verdict

Do these apps work? Statistically, yes — millions of Indians find spouses through them. Socially, though, they represent a beautifully chaotic transition phase, caught between two eras that refuse to fully let go of each other.

The real failure of the digital matchmaking experiment isn't the technology itself. It's the realization that even with AI, 5G networks, and high-definition filters, you cannot outrun culture. You can meet via algorithm, talk via WhatsApp, and fall in love over shared trauma about parental expectations. But eventually the screen turns off — and when it does, no amount of technology can save you from a 45-minute interrogation by a prospective mother-in-law about why you still haven't mastered the art of making dal makhani.

2026-01-28T04:20:00.000-08:00

What Children Really, Truly and Absolutely Need

Twenty-Two years and some eight months after my first born was born and sixteen years and some months after my second child was born, I attained enlightenment. That the moment of seeing light, unlike in the case of Buddha, was twenty-two years and some months too late, touched me at places which hurt a bit and ached a bit more. Many a times I caught myself waiting for someone to ask me the typical HR question popped at unsuspecting MBA aspirants – “if you could relive the last five/ ten years of your life, would you make any changes to it"? I know I would have changed all the things I didn’t get right as a parent. And this comes from someone who has been a hands-on, committed parent.

But you know and I know that life doesn’t give second chances. So, for all you young parents out there, here is some unsolicited advice from someone who never sat under a Bodhi tree, but would nevertheless want to share some Gyan, from her vantage position of more than three decades of motherhood.

Here is what children truly need:

A lot of Love

Children need love: absolute and unconditional love. When I say children, it means our kids at any age- be it at year two or year thirty. As parents we love our children. This is true in most cases. But somehow, we get so entangled in the business of life that we forget to communicate this to our children on a regular, nee daily, basis. The communication doesn’t have to be verbal always. It can be in the hugs given, the hand on the head, the look in the eyes. The hug, the loving hand and the look tell the child that it is loved. The child grows up in the warmth of that love, goes out into the world secure in the knowledge that no matter what, he/she is loved.

A lot of Praise

Praise is important because it helps the child’s confidence and sense of self-worth. Every time you praise your child, it reflects your pride in him/her. The child learns positive talk and the need for recognising the effort of others.

Praise can be age appropriate. You can praise the young ‘un for combing her hair neatly, the teenager for coming back from a friend’s party at the agreed upon time, the son, on the cusp of graduation, on his first investment in a stock, the daughter for the music she has put on for you. The praise reflects your pride and joy in the child.

A lot of fun time

There can be nothing as beautiful as connecting with your child over fun and laughter. Giving small children and teenagers plenty of opportunities to play, is one of the best ways to help them grow into healthy, curious, creative, and happy adults, equipped with the skills needed. This is one area which I neglected. Till the kids were in school, the time I spent with them was all about feeding them well, supervising their studies, ensuring their safety, adequate sleep hours, etc. Their fun came from playing in the evening with neighbourhood friends, birthday parties, friends coming over. I know they associated me with a lot of positives, but not fun. It is only when they were in college and would come home during semester breaks that we slipped into the routine of doing fun things together like shopping sprees, followed by a leisurely lunch, or a movie and popcorn. I saw series like Stranger Things, Peaky Blinders, Sherlock, Sons of Anarchy, the John Wick movies with my son. These were ‘our’ shows. We bonded over the music, the characters, dialogues etc. The look on their faces when I said ‘S**t happens’, the first time was priceless. This from their very proper mother!! Now the phrase has become like our own anthem- the highest level of profanity uttered in the house when things go south. It works every time in bringing levity.

A lot of you

I know that a lot of ‘you’ is not always possible for all mothers: mothers who have full-fledged careers, mothers who are busy with household chores, mothers who are doing both- juggling a job and house work. The idea is to give the child the security that whenever he/she needs his parent/s, the parent/s will respond. There will be no occasion when the child is left feeling alone. Concomitant with this is the essential that the child knows that come what may, that whatever he/she has done wrong, the parent will be there. It does not mean that any and all wrongdoing is going to be swept under the carpet. No. It means that the son/ daughter will get support and guidance in making sure things are set right.

A lot of positivity between parents

This one may be a difficult terrain to negotiate in married life,on a 24x7 basis , but it is an extremely important component in a child’s life. Conflict is normal, it’s how the conflict is expressed and resolved that has important consequences for children. The idea is to invest time and energy in your relationship with your spouse and address tense topics in a non-confrontationist manner. This will help sustain you during tough times. When children see parents in a strong relationship, it boosts their confidence and gives them a greater sense of security. On the other hand, when children see parents sparring unpleasantly on a regular basis, it both scares and scars them. Even now, with three decades of married life behind us, on the rare occasion that husband and I are tetchy with each other, the daughter and son get a very set look on their faces. Children do not ever get habituated or used to parental stress.

Children also need a lot of opportunity to learn to be independent, but above all they need unjudgmental parents. Being a parent comes with a lot of pressure to do right by our kids. It also comes with a lot of confusion. We over think everything: from which school is best for them, their grades, their friend group, or lack of friends, their course in university- everything. Yet, what our kids need from us is much more basic and straightforward. They need parents who ‘see’ them, listen to them, and delight in them.

2026-01-28T04:08:00.000-08:00

The Day the Blue Ticks Won: A Digital Nightmare

The phone rings. It’s a friend. She doesn’t say hello; she demands to know why I haven’t replied to her message sent four hours ago. I deploy my standard, high-level defense: "So sorry! Having a manic morning, haven’t checked WhatsApp in ages."

“But you have read it,” she counters, her voice turning icy. “There are two blue ticks. I can see you, you digital ghost.”

The volley is served with the finesse of Sinner annihilating Alcaraz. I am left speechless. I look up for divine inspiration, and it comes in the form of frantic ringing of the doorbell. It is the husband. He looks at me with the kind of annoyance usually reserved for people who leave the milk out.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The OTP! I sent it three times. You read it, I saw the blue ticks! I’m standing in the lobby, locked out, and being ignored by my own wife.”

Drat! I had, in fact, seen the notifications but had passed them off as spam, meant to be ignored.

Welcome to the new, terrifying age of digital accountability, where the "Read Receipt"—affectionately known as the Blue Tick—has transformed from a simple notification into a weapon of mass disruption.

Just as I , quite successfully, finish calming the husband down, my phone pings . It is the family group chat. It’s a crisis. The tenant has decided to play hooky on rent. The eldest sister dictates that a "stern message" must be sent to the errant tenant to pay up or move out. The ceremony of drafting this ultimatum is a dramatic, group-chat affair, editing out "un-parliamentary language" for twenty minutes before clicking send.

Within nanoseconds, the surveillance begins.

"Check if he’s read it!"
"No, still grey."
"Okay, check again."
"Still grey... wait! BLUE! HE READ IT."

It is a tense, digital stakeout. The second eldest sister pipes up: "I read somewhere you can read messages without the blue ticks showing up."

A collective gasp in the group. "What a sneaky, immoral thing to do," we agree. "But just the thing our guy would do."

Panic sets in. The minutes tick by. Why isn’t he responding? Has he dropped his phone in a puddle of coffee? Is he ignoring us? The game is on—our prey is being tracked, monitored, and judged.

In the WhatsApp netherworld, you are either the predator, anxiously awaiting the turn to blue, or you are the prey, desperately trying to appear "offline" while processing life.

It is the Upside Down of modern communication. The blue ticks are the Demogorgon, the MindFlayer, AND Vecna, all rolled into one tiny, pixelated mark. It is a world without privacy, where even the "Last Seen" feature feels like a violation of human rights.

So, what does one do? The answer, my friend, is to embrace the chaos. I’ve decided to turn off my read receipts entirely.

I’m currently in a "grey tick" sanctuary. Sure, my friends are furious, and my husband thinks I’m ignoring him, but at least I can live my life without being judged for reading a meme at 3 a.m. and not replying until noon.

2026-01-27T01:10:00.000-08:00

The key to… Something Else Entirely: My Michelin One Key Experience

Well, it's got a Key. One of them. Michelin says Narendra Bhawan is a "very special stay" with "character," and oh boy, did it deliver on character! This isn't your bland, "perfectly beige" luxury; this place has personality, much like that eccentric aunt who collects porcelain dolls and tells slightly alarming life stories.

Narendra Bhawan is a heritage property in Bikaner, Rajasthan. Bikaner is a quintessential one horse town, which is either good or not so great, depending on which color lenses one is seeing it through. For us, it was Bikaner because of Narendra Bhawan. And Narendra Bhawan because of the one key given by Michelin. Simple.

So, here’s looking at you, Narendra Bhawan.

The Vibe: So, you think you're fancy? You've got your passport stamps and your artisanal coffee. Well, welcome to Narendra Bhawan, where your 'local experience' means pretending you're the last Maharaja of Bikaner, Narendra Singhji, who apparently had excellent taste in interior design and a serious aversion to palaces. Think 'genteel chic' meets 'curated chaos.' The design is bold – maybe a little too bold in places.

This isn't just a hotel; it's a 'Landscape of Memories', which is code for you’ll be spending most of your time staring at curated nostalgia and wondering if your own life is sufficiently grand.

The property, a Michelin Key holder for "A Very Special Stay," offers a royal Bikaner experience with a stunning heritage design, reflecting the last Maharaja's life, featuring vibrant rooms, a rooftop pool, amazing local food, and personalised service that makes you feel like royalty, but be prepared for a serious dose of luxury and nostalgia wrapped in Indian heritage – it's less a hotel, more a storybook come to life, and your Instagram will thank you.

The Vibe (Beyond the Key):

The Michelin Key? Pfft, that's just official confirmation that you've entered a different dimension. You'll find yourself sipping chai in a breezy courtyard, lounging by a rooftop pool that looks like it belongs in Portugal, and wondering if you should just move in permanently.

The Room (Your Personal Time Capsule):

My 'Regiment Room' was less a room and more a contemporary cocoon, probably designed to soothe my modern-day anxieties after witnessing so much regal opulence. The 'Prince Rooms' boast mosaics and velvets that scream 'more is more.’ Honestly, picking a room is harder than choosing a Netflix show, but you can't go wrong. Just don't expect plain white walls; this place is as subtle as a peacock in a sandstorm. Our room had a feature wall that seemed to be having an existential crisis, and the lighting scheme made me feel like I was starring in a moody indie film. It's definitely a "stay," not just a "room."

The Service: The staff are wonderfully attentive, almost psychic. They're so attentive, you'll start feeling like you actually belong in a haveli." They anticipated needs before I knew I had them, like the moment I thought, "I wonder if I'm slightly lost in this labyrinthine hallway," and poof, a smiling face appeared with a map (and perhaps a mild concern for my sanity). They go the extra mile, but that mile does not involve a miniature golf cart ride to your room because the property is, well, not expansive. To put it more bluntly- open spaces are very limited. The tour ends before you can say 'Vasco de Gama'.

The Food (Prepare for Culinary Enlightenment):

They call it 'Halwai breakfast,' and it's less buffet, more royal decree. Expect dishes so exquisite and local that you'll feel guilty eating them with a fork. Seriously, the food is so good, you might try to pay for it with a forgotten piece of royal jewellery. Each meal feels like a personal tribute from the chefs, who seem to channel the spirit of Bikaner's finest feasts. One of the halwais, er chef with a white cap, would glide upto to our table every breakfast with a plate of three dainty jalebis and a pat of rabdi.

The Royal Symphony The 'Wake-Up Call': From your charming art deco room, enjoy not only vibrant décor reflecting a Maharaja's travels, but also the authentic sounds of a bustling kitchen courtyard, starting before dawn – think rhythmic clanging as your gourmet experience takes shape. It's a unique, 'immersive' auditory experience, guaranteeing you'll wake up refreshed (or at least, very aware) and ready for their lavish buffet, proving true luxury includes breakfast prep soundtrack.

Forget gentle birdsong; here, you get the exhilarating percussion of stainless steel as the kitchen preps your exquisite Halwai breakfast. It's a real 'cultural immersion'!" and a true testament to their dedication – they start early!".

The Verdict: "Come to Narendra Bhawan if you want to feel utterly spoiled, steeped in history, and slightly underdressed. It's a 'Very Special Stay' that genuinely transcends the ordinary. Just remember to pack your best 'regal' expression and a camera – your followers need to know you've been touched by royal magic. If you're seeking absolute silence, perhaps a monastery is more your style. But for a luxurious stay where even the kitchen staff become part of your story (and alarm clock), Narendra Bhawan delivers.".

2026-01-27T01:06:00.000-08:00

The One About an Idea Being Born

Every idea starts with a niggle, like a soft pain in the leg. You ignore it and the pain seems to subside. Only to come back in a sharper form, nudging you to take action. Until you do. My niggle had been very patient with me- giving me week on week to do other pressing things-like binge watch Slow Horses, cleaning out all the cupboards, taking out each and every weed from the garden. And then it sidled up to me and whispered gently ‘what about your idea? ‘

The idea itself is a very simple one. To help people speak well. To help them to pronounce simple words like development, monastery, determine, government, breakfast correctly. So that, unknowingly, they don’t embarrass themselves. Like I did. As a 17-year-old from hick towns of Uttar Pradesh, entering the Delhi University of yore. Admission to the top colleges was given to only the best, and getting a hostel seat was even more coveted. All around me, that first day, were girls from the best schools in the country, wearing levi jeans (a big thing then), speaking an English which seemed so different from mine- from convent educated me. A face popped up in front of me and said, “How do you do?” I replied, “fine, thank you”- giving myself away in that reply. Not knowing that a how do you do is always answered with another how do you do!

The first few months I must have made so many faux pas. I remember the ‘steak’ time clearly. Never having eaten steak- I always read it as steek. One day there was a discussion around food, and I don’t know why and in what context – but I said steek. There was a moment’s silence and then someone picked up the thread and said stake was her favourite and she had it medium done. From that day I vowed that I would never speak a word I didn’t know how to pronounce correctly. I would observe and practice and only then speak. College was followed by my first job at The Times of India. We were a young team of three, and the chairman’s son and daughter took us under their wings. There were many lunches at five star hotels and there I picked up a lot of dining, ordering etiquettes, as well as the pronunciation of many dishes. Watching English movies did the rest.

The debate around "speaking well" versus "not speaking well" is multifaceted, encompassing not only linguistic skill but also social perception, personal confidence, and even the impact of words themselves. While eloquence and polished language are often valued, there is always going to be appreciation for authenticity and the ability to connect with others on a personal level, even if one's speech isn't diction perfect. It is not only, and always ,command over a language that gets you to your sweet spot- many well spoken gentlemen have landed in jail, or fled the country to avoid jail. But, being well spoken does ensure that people listen to you. Whether you are able to use this time to your advantage is another story.

The story that is breaking now is mine. About an idea whose time has come.

#pitchperfect_you

My Goan Holiday

2020-10-02T00:03:00.013-07:00

The lesser known Goa, through my lens

Goa had been on my bucket list for the longest time- almost three decades from the time I graduated from university. We holidayed at places not on the bucket list but somehow Goa kept getting pushed to the backburner. The holiday finally happened early this year, with me in my mid fifties and my husband a solid sixty. But no regrets about that: this was the first holiday the husband and I took alone since the arrival of the first child some 28 years back. And it worked!

We were in Goa for five magical days. I had heard a lot from people about the place – and from that had images of sun kissed tourists dressed in lovely beach wear, drinking feni and indulging in PDA firmly entrenched in my mind. We landed in Goa all prepared to be the proverbial uncle ji and aunty ji, but soon realized that the place lets you be yourself.

Half the charm of the holiday was that we stayed at my husband’s cousin’s place. Cousin is a retired babu who, very wisely, bought himself a very cute villa in north Goa post retirement. He stays half the year in Goa and the other half in Delhi. The six months he is in Goa, family and friends make sure he is never alone. When we were at his place, his younger brother- another retired babu- was also staying with him. The housekeeper is a very pleasant Nepalese, who makes the most awesome food. I finally mastered the art of making upma from her- as also the thinnest softest moong ki daal chillas. A young boy, forever smiling, serves as the Man Friday.

Our daughter, considering herself a Goa veteran, had made a detailed day wise itinerary which included the ‘must see’ spots as per her and her friends. But when we returned from our holiday and exchanged notes, she had a blank look at almost all the places we mentioned! That’s when I decided to pen my own ‘Must visit Goa spots’ for all kindred souls who want to experience this charming city away from all the normal touristy spots.

The places we ate at:

Cafe Chocolatti

Café Chocolatti is on Fort Aguada Road in Candolim. It is a charming place, with outside seating and the sun peeping in through lush green palms and other tropical foliage. We went twice here, both times for our mid morning coffee. Definitely a must visit.

Amavi by Sumera

Amavi is in Calangute. We visited the place for dinner on our second night. Smart décor, live music and singing and a great European menu even for vegetarians like the four of us.

Mum’s Kitchen

A must visit, Mum’s Kitchen is in Panjim. When you enter the place, you feel you are entering someone’s well maintained residence.

Mum’s Kitchen is a celebration of Goan legacy: recipes that have been handed down from one generation to the next. The place also has an extremely well appointed washroom, proving that small spaces too can be done up well !

The husband enjoying his relaxed afternoon at Mum’s

Bhojan in Hotel Fidalgo

Fidalgo in Panaji has a restaurant serving authentic Gujariti – Marathi food in huge thalis. Bhojan is a no fuss place with amazing food- which just keeps on coming. Go here on an empty tummy:)

Mojigao

The place is located in a forested and well landscaped part of Assagaon. The cafe at Mojigao offers delectable vegetarian and vegan items on the menu, with fresh fruit juices and delicious desserts. This eco haven in Assagao is a must experience.

The Lazy Dog

The Lazy Dog is located at the back of Mandrem beach and is the perfect location to view the beautiful beach. It has comfortable settees and chairs for drinks or dining. The varied menu offers light snacks to a full meal. Nice!

Places we visited and recommend

Altinho Hill

If there is an address to die for in Goa, then it is Altinho Hill. The hill has a picture perfect location and offers a splendid view of the city from the hilltop. It neighbours Panaji and houses the Archbishop's Palace, the house of the Chief Minister, the All India Radio Station and Government Servant Quarters.

The Archbishop's Palace

Reis Magos Fort

The Reis Magos Fort is located in North Goa and is a must visit. The short walk up from the main road is a delight to traverse. Reis Magos fort was originally a fortess and later used as a jail.

The fort is extremely well maintained and probably offers the best view in the whole of Goa

Museum of Goa

Another memorable part of our trip to Goa was our visit to the Museum of Goa, a private museum conceptualized by Mr. Subodh Kerkar. Art exhibitions are held here throughout the year. The day of our visit, Mr Subodh Kelkar was there, happily mingling with the visitors and answering questions. We purchased a lovely print from the Souvenir shop. The girl at the shop got it framed in wood for us within fifteen minutes. We spent that time chatting with Mr Kelkar.

Friday Night Market at Little Vagator

The Friday night market is again a must visit- if only to soak in the ambience and atmosphere. It has great live music, with DJs and the whole works, food, shops/ stalls. Parking is free and the whole thing is well organized.

Mario Miranda’s Gallery

Mario Gallery at Calangute was an absolute delight. The artist’s body of work is on display, as are curios, posters, cushions, lamp shades, prints etc. We spent a very enjoyable couple of hours browsing through Mario Miranda’s vision of Goa.

The Quirky entrance to Mario’s gallery

Fab India Gallery in North Goa

We went to Fab India because our host wanted to pick up some spreads. The place is on my list only because it is one of the very well-appointed Fab India outlet- comparable, if not better, to any Delhi outlet.

Fountainhas Walk by Make it Happen

This walk definitely has to be one of the highlights of our trip. Fontainhas is not only the oldest but the largest Latin quarter of Asia. The walk guide was a young enthusiastic Goan who took us through the whole walk without losing either his smile or his energy.

We saw heritage homes

A hindu heritage home

Portuguese architecture

Met some wonderful people

Ate delicacies from the oldest bakery in Goa

And met a renowned Goan musician who played Fado and Latin music for us. The Make it Happen guys are definitely doing a good job.

We also did these

Saw ‘Jimmy’s House’ from far. Jimmy apparently was another Vijay Mallya type tycoon. Entertained film stars and politicians and threw lavish parties. Hasina Maan Jayegi was shot in his house.

Took the Dolphin ride (comme ci comme ca), saw quite a few churches (beautiful), indulged in a Spa session( expensive), saw the old and the new light house, drank fresh sugarcane juice, went for morning walks and ate fresh pois daily.

And then some more poi ! If food is religion in Goa, then it starts with paos and pois from family-run bakeries. In fact, poi can be a meal in itself, with fresh salad vegetables. We had them slathered with melted butter and sinful garlic cheese. The poi delivery boys (called ‘poder’) cycle to every house at dawn and dusk, announcing their arrival with a ringing of the cycle bell.

I also ‘did’ a weekly local market- it was quaintness and sweetness personified. Tables were set up in the square and locals/ nearby residents had set out their home cooked / home prepared ware. I was there for almost an hour and was amused to see the table owners hopping across to other tables to sample and purchase.

The People

We found the local residents to be well informed, educated – and laid back. Almost everyone we met was politically very aware.

What just didn’t work for us in Goa

If there was one thing which really didn’t work, it was that there is almost no system of transport for people like us. Used to Uber in almost all the places we had visited in the past few years, we just took it for granted that Uber would certainly be in a tourist hot spot like Goa. But no, forget Uber, there is no taxi service worth its name. Yes, Goa Miles is there, but we soon realized that it is highly unreliable and almost always cancels a trip after taking the booking. The local cabbies have mastered the art of fleecing and charge very pocket unfriendly rates.

Advisory: carry your driving license (which husband did not do!!) and hire a car.

Would I like to visit Goa again? Yes, definitely yes. Fingers crossed that the second doesn’t take another three decades!

Life in Corona Times

2020-07-07T21:38:00.001-07:00

In lazy slow motion, like a sloppily shot scene of a bollywood potboiler, the exact moment when it, the virus, actually entered our life plays itself over and anon. We have just started dinner and are half tuned into Mr Modi’s address to the nation when he announces that from midnight of that night, the country is going under lockdown. For a second no one speaks: none of us are sure that we heard it right. But then he repeats it and in a nano second we get into survival mode. I still remember the adrenaline rush, the exact order of the vegetables and fruits I picked up that night, the panic buyers clamoring for milk and other essentials, the empty shelves and bread cartons in the neighborhood shops, the realization that terror now had a new name and it was COVID-19.

For about a week life was all about reading up on the virus. We would exchange real news, fake news, forwards- anything and everything, at mealtimes, on family whatsapp groups, over phone calls. Everything was inside out, or should that read outside in? Where earlier one stepped outside the serenity of the house to be immediately enveloped in sound and people and watchful eyes, now the outside was quiet and calm and the unhingement was all inside. We tried to wrap our heads around what was happening. And everything seemed to be happening at the same time, in an uncoordinated avalanche of ruthlessness. Salary cut for the first born, an indefinite postponement of law school Day Zero for the younger one, no house help, an office bereft of staff for the husband. But then slowly we emerged out of the shapelessness and elasticity to find our Mojo.

Laughter was now in seeing the son making the beds and the husband setting the table for lunch and dinner. Love was in the sheer indebtedness of being together and alive. Work from home and online classes helped maintain order and rhythm. The husband discovered the joy of working in an empty office- the luxury of putting his feet on the table! And I discovered that Sooraj Barjatya had got it right some twenty-five years back: as long as Hum Saath-Saath Hain, even cleaning, cooking and washing up had an endearing appeal.

What has also been proven right is the ability of humans to adapt. The pandemic may have forced us to break with the past and build a new world of social distancing but this world is no different from what we were living in. As a matter of fact, it’s an even closer, more contracted world where the friend in Singapore, the niece in London and the cousin in the US are as close as the sister in the city. It is a world where distinctions have blurred. No one will be traveling for a long time, posting touched up pictures, wearing Prada or attending book launches. It’s also a more convenient world. Bored of the conversation thread? No need for prolonged a good bye. Bad network connectivity is a fault proof alibi.

In all this unpredictability what has also been comforting is the tedium of human nature. We are wired to communicate, to attitudinize, commiserate, brag. I truly want to hug that person who is still able to talk about her friend who is so well connected that at her son’s wedding a thousand Very Important Persons were in attendance ; the one who will have a drool worthy dish placed strategically during a zoom meeting; the right winger who will take any opportunity to turn the conversation to a strident defence of Modi ji, the enthusiast who will share every joke on the whatsapp group. I feel grateful to them for being that bowl of Maggi , providing comfort in continuity.

And on many moments in this period, I have felt pride in the stoicism and fortitude of my people; gratitude for those battling for solutions, shed tears for strangers and understood that what we, the world, are going through is unique and shared. This period of retreat has also helped me to come to terms with fear, understand that the cocoon one is wrapped in at the moment is extremely fragile and can rupture at any time. Understood too that the very seductiveness of its name, Corona, threatens to engulf us all at some point in time. It truly begs the iconic question from the The Jacket: "How much time do we have?"

A Lifetime. The solemness of the words, connoting the duration of a person’s life, of eternity, are almost never spoken lightly. Lifetime. But, as life as we knew it, ground to a screeching silence, we are, without any doubt, living a lifetime within another one. We will all remember this time we are collectively living in different ways: the fear, loss, pain, bonding and love. Maybe, just maybe, some of us may indulge in the luxury of denial and not remember these days. But in all this uncertainty what is certain is that we have earned ourselves a place in history. Maybe, a Salman Rushdie will write another Midnight’s Children and call it The Virus Generation?

How Nichiren Buddhism Helped Me

2020-06-23T22:23:00.000-07:00

In the summer of 2016, my son, after his 12^th boards, got admission in a law school in Bangalore. The three weeks between his admission and joining date went in a flurry of shopping, packing, getting his papers etc in order. My husband and I went to drop him. All this while I had been my normal self- after all I had known all along that he was preparing for the entrance exam and that he was keen to do law. We were in Bangalore with him for two days and helped him settle in. When the time came to say bye- it suddenly hit me that I was actually saying bye to him for 5 years. And knowing how one road leads to another, maybe for many more years. I was very quiet on the flight back. When we reached home I went straight to his room. My eyes fell on his badminton racquet and I burst into tears.

In the days that followed the yawning gap inside me refused to fill up. I had read about the empty nest syndrome – it always seemed something that would never happen to me. And here I was, right in the middle of it –and not able to handle it. I could see my husband was concerned. He talked to me about so many of our friends and relatives whose kids were not even in India but outside India. He made plans for all the things he knew I liked- I think we saw every new play at Kamani auditorium and Sri Ram Centre the months that followed. I hated the new me. I had always been an active, bustling person. Now, while I was keeping myself involved in the house, in work, with people, as before, but I knew that something was not right with me. Six months passed when I acknowledged to myself that I was allowing myself to slip into a depressive state.

A very dear friend had been telling me for quite some time about a wonderful practice she had joined. I would listen to her politely but not much registered except the words Nicheren Buddhism. I rang her up and said I would like to know more about the practice. As chance would have it, she had the 2017 New Year meeting at her place two days later. She invited me for it. When I entered the room about 20-25 people of all ages were already there and chanting Nam-Myo-ho-renge-kyo. The rhythmic chant magically seemed to fill up all the emptiness inside me. I just felt as if I had been given the proverbial ‘Sanjeevani booti’. That very day I told my friend I too wanted to join the practice.

My shakabuku friend started coming over every evening to chant with me. We would sit in my living room facing a bare stone wall and chant. She explained to me that I should put all my wishes, desires in my chanting. Though now I chant in front of the Gohonzon, but till today- whenever I look at that stone wall I am reminded of that period of despair and sadness and how it changed to one of hope and courage.

I started attending all the meetings. Each meeting would fill me with positivity. Even now I remember the genuinely warm and welcoming smiles of the people I met. I thought-‘I want that same smile.’ My interactions with leaders and members were extremely encouraging. I heard the personal experiences of other members and realized how they had overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. In the study meetings I imbibed concepts such as: how poison can be changed to medicine; that winter is always followed by spring; never disparage anyone; live life with courage, wisdom and compassion, human revolution etc.

I didn’t immediately understand all the concepts, but from the beginning of my practice, members told me: “It’s all about you. You have to make a change yourself to see a change in your situation.” So, I decided to just “get in there” and start working to make a change.

Soon I could feel the change inside me. When my son went back after his trimester break, I was able to maintain my equilibrium and say bye to him with a smiling face. He must have heard about my melt down from his father and sister because I could sense the relief in him.

The change was not confined to accepting that children have to spread their wings. To date I had never been able to stand up to the elders in my family. What for me had been a show of respect had been read as a sign of timidity and weakness and for the longest time I had allowed myself to be ridden roughshod over. The practice gave me the courage to speak out positively and confidently. If I felt something was not right, or that I did not have the time to do something asked of me, instead of keeping quiet I spoke out. I could see the surprise on the faces but soon that surprise turned to acceptance and even admiration. More importantly, I was at peace because I was not bottling anything inside me. My relationships improved because of the practice.

My actual victory came six months from the date of joining. My daughter, who since post her MBA, had been working in Gurgaon, got a job offer from Flipkart in Bangalore. It was with equanimity and pride I saw her off. After she left, I maintained my routine and did not allow any negative, unhappy thoughts to enter. I kept telling myself: one day at a time. One day at a time, move forward. Believe in yourself. Be happy. I don’t know how, but since joining there has been this constant inner voice that says: “Okay, move forward. Take it one day at a time.” This kind of determination, this fighting spirit that I have forged, has come through my Buddhist practice. My husband, who had been a silent spectator to my metamorphoses, was inspired to join the practice.

As a Hindu I already knew about the concept of karma. In the Buddhist tradition, karma refers to action driven by intention which leads to future consequences. Those intentions are considered to be the determining factor in the kind of rebirth in the cycle of rebirth.

SGI President Ikeda writes: “Nichiren teaches the means for transforming our karma in the present and offers a direct route to building a state of absolute happiness. It teaches that our karma is our noble mission.”

My practice made me conscious about transforming karma. I have since tried to live and speak in a manner which makes me happy while giving grief to as few people as possible.

Friends, here I would just like to add that joining the practice does not mean the gift of the proverbial lamp of Alladin. It is not a quick fix solution to all problems. What it does do, or has done in my case, is to give one the courage to accept that things will happen: your children will leave the nest, people will say hurtful words, illnesses will come, losses will happen. It gives one the compassion to understand that the person who said those hurtful words is in all probability hurting himself or herself; it gives one the wisdom to travel unchartered territory, take decisions, to stop blaming others and to responsibility. Most importantly, it teaches that there is a rainbow at the end of a storm- it’s just that we need to never give up hope.

I quote from (“Winter Always Turns to Spring,” The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, vol. 1, p. 536)

Those who believe in the Lotus Sutra are as if in winter, but winter always turns to spring. Never, from ancient times on, has anyone seen or heard of winter turning back to autumn. Nor have we ever heard of a believer in the Lotus Sutra who turned into an ordinary person. The sutra reads, “If there are those who hear the Law, then not a one will fail to attain Buddhahood.”

To be truly a Movement #Metoo has to become more Inclusive

2018-10-08T04:30:00.001-07:00

#MeToo is hiding more than it is Revealing

This story goes many moons back. It was winter break at Delhi University and I was at home getting the TLC which is a hosteller’s right when the phone rang. My very good friend was on the other side. The only words she spoke on the phone were,’ I am coming to stay at your place’. Her narrative left me shaken and stirred. Her mother’s brother, at whose house she was spending the holidays, had on the pretext of sharing her shawl while watching a movie, touched her at all the places he shouldn’t have. She answered my unspoken question with a shake of her head and I nodded in agreement. It was understood that some things were best brushed under the carpet. Family was sacrosanct and it was the duty of each member to guard its sanctity and shroud the acts.

For my friend, just as for most Indian women, these ‘encounters’ have been scurrilous episodes of life, to be brushed under the carpet and forgotten. Well brought up girls don’t speak out and silence is golden. That silence was yesterday. Or is it really so? Yes, today many voices are speaking out against male predators: Alpha men with narcissism and egotism so deeply etched in their flawed psyche that for them it is perfectly par for the course to try and stake claim to women who are not their wedded halves. Yes, these men have met their waterloo in #Metoo with skeletons tumbling out of cupboards at a deliciously dizzying rate. But the women taking the lead, so far, are either famous or working, or both. These are definitely empowered voices and the voices are not shying away from telling their stories on social media.

Men in media, films, corporate houses, politics are being called out and so are authors, writers et el. It is with pride that one follows the girls and women who are standing up to be counted. However, while this piece is not about belittling the brave vanguard voices, it is important to acknowledge that out of all the voices that have spoken out, there is no voice of a niece or a sister, or a sister-in-law, a daughter. The women of the family are still quiet. If men, all men, are really to be shamed into understanding that women cannot be sexually harassed then #Metoo will have to be the confluence of many movements—involving the workplace, colleagues, friends, seniors and, most importantly, Family. As of now #Me Too seems to be shining light on the easy targets only.

The postulates or principles of a successful movement are so basic that we cannot hope to achieve anything unless the basics are in place. A dynamic, successful social movement really needs to be like the Ganga with its many tributaries. It needs to open outwards to people and be powered by a groundswell of voices. The #MeToo movement has to go deeper and scrutinize familial silence on sexually predatory behavior. It is an open secret that most families have their Monsoon Wedding moments. If women don’t do a Mira Nair then the movement will be hiding more than it’s revealing. By its silence on the aspect of sexual assault from uncles, brothers, relationships girls trust and don't have their guard up against, is #MeToo forgiving more than its holding accountable?

Movements such as #Metoo, with the wherewithal to transform mindsets, lives and society, need to emerge from a multitude of struggles. Their roots need to go deeper, searching for the origin of the rot. The origin of the rot is not the boss in the office or the office colleague. The rot starts at the hearth. In this search, the base of the movement will broaden to encompass those who are yet on the sidelines. The stories that have been heard so far are about men who were not related to the women they stalked. The women who have come out and spoken have not upset the house (family) of cards

It is true that for a truly powerful defining movement, the answer for success is that the marginalised, the sidelined, those forming the bottom need to come to the forefront. It is this bottom layer that needs to become propellers for the movement and for the issues that the movement is trying to address. The untold stories have to be told: by the women of the family.

CarpeDiem.

When Music Taught me what Preaching failed to:To Live in the Present

2018-08-08T22:40:00.001-07:00

Yes, I always knew that one should not dwell in the past, that it is the present that is the most important. My BFF even gave me one of those mementos, the ones which have life’s many lessons embossed on them. This one, brought all the way from America, says: “Yesterday's the past, tomorrow's the future, but today is a gift. That's why it's called the present”.

Messages on Whatsapp groups by prolific and incorrigible Thought for the Day messengers include:”Happiness is not something you postpone for the future; it is something you design for the present”; “The ability to be in the present moment is a major component of mental wellness”. And many more, culled I am sure from the same source, viz Brainy Quotes. How much did all this help? Almost Zilch. The memento did perk me up for some time but then it got hidden behind a bank of books and would only show up in the frenzy of spring and Diwali cleaning. Whatsapp messages are so well meaning, but let’s face it when did well meaning ever have any real meaning?

I have always prided myself on being a positive person and lived life more or less to Tennyson’s Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why…Until recently that is. With no catalyst to pin the blame on, I did start wallowing in the past with many why’s cropping up, much like the Devil’s horns. The past, we all know, is a long winding, tortuous tunnel with no end in sight. There would be times I would surface from long walks down forked roads and tell myself: ‘Never again’. But much like the proverbial druggie my wayward mind would at any time and almost too many times plunge into the past again.

A week back I stumbled upon a playlist lying forgotten in a folder on my desktop inexplicably titled Home. I hit the play button and the most magical words started filling the living room. I listened to the songs, almost spell bound in nostalgia, till the husband entered and enquired if there was lunch for the proletariat or not. Lying in bed that night I realized I had not met the past that day. The next day I was better organized. I transferred the music to my phone, connected it to Bluetooth and switched on the Bose speakers. The very first song that played was:

Aanewala Pal Jaanewala Hai

Ho Sake toh Iss Mein Zindagi Bitaado

Pal Jo Yeh Jaanewala hai….

Then came

Aage Bhi Jaane Na Tu, Pichhe Bhi Jaane Na Tu

Jo Bhi Hai, Bas Yahi Ek Pal Hai….

Ye Pal Ujaalaa Hai Baaqi Andheraa Hai

Ye Pal Ganvaanaa Na, Ye Pal Hi Teraa Hai

Jinevaale Soch Le Yahi Vaqt Hai Kar Le Puri Aarazu

And then

…… Kal ke andheron se nikal ke/Dekha hai aankhein malte malte

Ho phool hi phool zindagi bahaar hai/Tay kar liya aa..

Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai/Aaj phir marne ka irada hai

And

…..Aise Jeevan Bhi Hain Jo Jiye Hi Nahin /Jinko Jeene Se Pehle Hi Maut Aa Gayi

Phool Aise Bhi Hain Jo Khile Hi Nahin / Jinko Khilne Se Pehle Fiza Kha Gai

And

zindagi ke safar mein guzar jate hain jo makam,

woh phir nahin aate,/ woh phir nahin aate!

Then

Kabhi kisi ko mukammal jahan nahi milta

Kahin zameen to kahin aasman nahin milta

And

Chhodo kal ki baate/ Kal ki baat puraani….

Aaj puraani zanjiro/ Ko tod chuke hai
Kyaa dekhe us mazil ko/ Jo chhod chuke hai

The magic of the ageless classics enveloped me giving me warmth and immense viribus. But more than this I got answers to issues that had been haunting me. You want me to share the answer? Simple. Carpe diem. Seize the day. It is only today that is mine.

The Zen and the Art of Powering a Start Up

2018-02-16T07:38:00.004-08:00

Hello, all you raring to join the start-up brigade. Read in for some valuable insights from Rahul Bhalla, core member of the team that powered Zenatix.

(I wrote this piece for the business academy of VISA. It is on the business academy website)

When Rahul Bhalla, Vishal Bansal and Amarjeet Singh of the batch of 2002 graduated from IIT Delhi it was to walk career paths as varied as legal outsourcing, financial services and technology. But the commonality of their engineering background, of having lived in the same hostel and of wanting to do something together at some point ensured that they not only kept in touch but also kept bouncing ideas for a start up. In 2013 when they quit their comfortable jobs the only certainty was that their future lay in the application of data analytics.

Reminiscing about the ‘ what to do, when to do’ days Rahul says, ‘we felt quitting our jobs as the first step was necessary in order to come out of our individual cushioned cocoons and look for opportunities. We were passionate about data analytics and as a natural corollary started researching on application of data analytics for verticals such as retail, health care, e-commerce, financial services, energy etc. before zeroing in on energy efficiency’.

The clinching factor was that Amarjeet had already done a lot of research in energy sustainability.

Zenatix was formally launched in the November of 2013. Quiz him about how the trio sustained themselves financially in the gap period between leaving their jobs and starting Zenatix, and Rahul Bhalla laughs. Calling it a slow growth period he says that even after the launch the three kept pumping in savings and putting back whatever money they were making into the business. It took 15-18 months for things to start looking up. By this time they had some good customers and had raised some money.

In this period of slow growth it was trust and faith coupled with belief in his co-workers that kept Bhalla going.

Building the Product

This energy data analytics firm helps large commercial customers of energy reduce their energy consumption using intelligence from their energy data. The basic premise of the company is operational behaviour – simply put it is what time certain equipment is switched on or off.

Rahul Bhalla, CEO and Head of Sales, gives an example he has found most people are able to relate to: that of a telephone bill. In a telephone bill one is able to see how much one has spent on SMS’s, local calls, STD charges, and international calls and so on. If the mobile bill is higher than normal in a particular month one can check and see that the roaming charges make sense because one was traveling. Compare this to an electricity bill which gives no insight beyond the total number of units consumed. This lack of insight hits the commercial sector spending lakhs, or even crores, every month the hardest.

Zenatix helps disaggregate energy consumption into major electrical loadsand does so in real time. It uses physical sensors to acquire data on usage and sets up cloud based software for real time monitoring of the client’s energy consumption. It runs advanced analytics on the collected data and the softwaretriggers controls or prompts for controls, which drive energy savings.

Ask him about their journey in developing the product and he feels identifying a problem and its solution is important but even more than that is the ability to evolve because the customers and the market are never static. When one takes a product to the market the market reacts in a certain fashion and the customers react in another and one has to learn very quickly. He says,’ when we started we were throwing data at people but soon realised that this data was not helping them. If we had not evolved and narrowed down our focus to commercial buildings and air conditioners our product would not have had any compelling raison d 'être.

Building the Team

Zenatix is divided into three verticals. Sales and Business Development headed by Rahul Bhalla,Operations headed by VishalBansal and Technology headed by Amarjeet Singh. Presently the firm has about fifteen employees but plans to scale up the number by ten in the coming months. Ask Rahul Bhalla what he looks for in a prospective employee and his answer is a succinct ‘passion and mind set’. He feels that in the start up world the mind set a person needs to have is very different from the cushy and predictable environment of established firms where one comes in and leaves office at a certain time. In a start up the employee needs to be able to contribute to self-growth and the growth of the company. And of course get rewarded in return.

This is what worked for him personally and what keeps him going. He always worked for companies which were start ups at the time he joined: Evalueserve ,CPA Global, and UnitedLex Corporation. He was the first employee at the latter. The company grew to about 100 million dollars in top line in about 6-7 years and concomitantly he went on to become the Vice President of Intellectual Property.

Staying Motivated

Passion is a lietmotif of Bhalla’s talk. ‘The scale of electricity consumption of corporates, hotels hospitals is huge. If I can reduce a large building’s energy consumption by 10% that can possibly power four villages in India. The realisation that if we are able to scale up our business and impact how people live in this world keeps me motivated’. Freshness and newness of challenges also keep him motivated.

There is a smile in his voice as he repeats, ‘my eureka moments’? A pause and then he continues,’the eureka moments come firstly when you see that your product has made a difference in someone’s life. The second is when your start-up raises money.’

Zenatix raised around Rs 1.27 crore ($200k) in seed funding from a number of high profile investors. ‘When you see a good set of individuals helping you in your endeavour to have your product have a wider outreach it is a validation of your work and yes, it becomes a special moment.’

For him the favourite aspect of being an entrepreneur is seeing a new challenge daily. ‘When you get up in the morning you have one thing in your mind but that goes up to ten when you reach office. Every day is a new day and this is what keeps me going. The focus is on how to deliver more and more value to the customer’.

Executing and Staying Ahead

Bhalla feels that innovation and execution are the key to staying ahead in today’s competitive market. An idea is nothing on its own – it requires execution. This means installation of hardware and software, engaging with customers, delivering on promises.

He firmly believes that building a business is not so much about an idea but more about execution. So before one starts looking out for ideas, look for co-founder(s) so that there is a solid team that can execute well. That's what they (co-founders of Zenatix) did. When they quit their jobs, they had no clue what they were we going to do but had faith in each other's capabilities. Their goal was simple - solve a real problem that has a big scale. Energy efficiency is a real problem and one never has to worry about scale - everybody on this planet is a consumer of electricity!

Ethical concerns are what most entrepreneurs setting up base in India have to face including he and his co-founders. ’We were clear in our minds that we would never engage in any unethical practice. If our business succeeded well and good, otherwise we would figure out something else. Once we had taken a stand we stuck to it and that worked for us. So far we have been able to demonstrate significant growth based on value for our product.’

The ready laugh is there again when he is asked about the trio being labelled “The powerpuff boys” by a national weekly. ‘Yes, that was a smart line and one felt good’.

And that’s how one leaves him- feeling good about his work, motivated by the feedback, in love with the space he is in at the present.

Lodhi, The Garden Restaurant: Review

2016-08-16T09:09:00.002-07:00

Lodi-The Garden Restaurant
Lodhi Road, Opp. Mausam Bhavan,
New Delhi, 110003
Price: dinner for two approx 2500 Indian rupees

Any google search for the best restaurants of Delhi will invariably throw up Lodi-The Garden Restaurant( henceforth L-TGR) somewhere in the top ten. Which sort of takes one to those blogs which entice with 'How to rank higher on Google in five minutes using....' Don't get me wrong- L-TGR is nice, it's sweet, it tries hard, it scores on two important parameters but....

The hostess standing at the start of the cobbled pathway trills an eager 'good evening' even as we are helping the octogenarian in our party down the steps leading to the pathway with the result that most of us don't hear it and the lone person , me, who does can't look up and respond since the octogenarian and I are in the process of synchronized navigation of said steps.

We go down a short winding path to the right of which is the garden area for outdoor dining. The lush green garden is very prettily done up with hanging lamps, twinkling lights, water cans serving as fountains mounted on one side. It scores high on ambience but can really be used only for winter lunches and October- March evenings and so, since we in Delhi are in the middle of a muggy August, we toodle off indoors.

We step inside to dimly lit interiors and a smiling maitre d'. Thankfully two steps take us to our table and so no one falls. The real test comes when the menus are placed before us. The aunt manfully bells the cat and asks for some light. The waiter pauses in the act of pouring water and switches on his phone's torch light. The water jug stays poised mid air for a good ten minutes or so as the aunt goes through the entire menu and then comes back to the first page to start the confabulations. We are almost decided when the uncle declares that no, paella is a must. Paella means dropping a dish and so hectic parleys resume.... All this while no one comes to rescue either the water jug or the waiter. Could be two reasons for the same: given the dim interiors they couldn't see what was happening or the menu reading by torch light was an all too familiar occurring.

After the outdoor seating the second parameter on which L-TGR scores is food. The espresso martinis , for the octogenarian and the aunt, were pronounced absolutely delicious, as were the mojitos we opted for. The entree of vegetarian mezze ( falafel, cheese fatayer, hummus, babaganoush, tzatziki, tabouleh, pita and home made pickle) was easy on the eye and tasted good. The paella was cooked just so, the grilled vegetables platter was amazing as was the quinoa. However, what stole the show was the dessert- almond bread pudding on a bed of warm toffee sauce with a topping of fig ice cream. Sinful!! Just what a good dessert is meant to be.

The cheque is called for. It comes after a while. In the meantime one is distracted by certain, ahem, loud noises come from the next table. The guest is unhappy about an error in the billing- In the meantime our cheque arrives. Aunt looks at it earnestly but it is clear that she needs some help.The mobile ,err torch, arrives. The plastic card is fished out but in the meantime the waiter has vanished. We make idle conversation for five minutes but no Johnny turns up. The octogenarian looks ready to blow a fuse and finally does. An apologetic face turns up finally.

You know what L-TGR reminds one of? The morning after. Everything is still, almost, the same: the people, the setting.......but something is missing. Perhaps, the zing?

Twelve Angry Jurors: Play Review

2016-08-11T08:50:00.000-07:00

We saw the evening show of Twelve Angry Jurors, a RAGE production, at the Kamani Auditorium, Delhi. It was truly a wonderful experience from the time one entered the gates. We had been dreading the thought of standing in long queues to get the hard copy of our tickets. However, there were no queues- instead there were young, smiling faces guiding one through a razzmatazz of offers and giddy fun- spinning wheel, a mounted fine dining menu , your very own clapboard photograph- all this set to some lovely piano music by Kaizad Gherda . The well lit Kamani foyer had never looked more inviting and well appointed as it did that evening- with boarded posters of Aadyam’s Season II plays landscaping the walls. Nice!! Aditya Birla group cultural foray with Aadyam is poised to be a winner.

Some years back I had sat spellbound through the Hollywood movie of the same name - and truth to tell went for the play all ready for a comme ci comme ça version. So here goes: the performances were scintillating, the dialogues thought provoking and fitting very well in the Indian context, the editing -tight, the props masterpieces each, Nadir Khan’s direction- smart, the actors- seasoned and composed, the pièce de résistance-Rajit Kapur’s oft shown backside.

The fact that decades back the jury system, in India, was buried does nothing to take away from the relevance of the play. Human emotions and reactions are woven deftly to create a tapestry of aggression, misconception, boredom, dissent, vindictiveness and escapism. One doesn’t know about the others in the audience but I could see a little of myself in all the 12 jurors.

Special mention must be made of the clever use of the montage of three screens which alternatively showed the roofs of buildings (Mumbai courts?) scorching on a hot summer day and the interface between jurors in the overworked toilet of the jury room.

Any irritant in Eden’s Garden? A teeny weeny watery one: the three dozen trips to the water cooler by the dozen jurors. Please Nadir- do you remember the time in kindergarten when you got scolded on your second ‘water’ trip for distracting the class? Well, that is what we felt like doing- scolding you for distracting us in an otherwise perfectly riveting play.

FAAAI to invite WPI tracking body to its next meeting

2015-09-06T08:43:00.003-07:00

This is a satirical piece which was published in My Faking News on August 24,2015

The first FAAAI (Fat and Ageing Auntys’ Association of India) meeting ended yesterday on a very positive note. The members of the association were seen leaving the venue in upmarket South Delhi in a very happy and notably cheerful mood.

The reason for the positivity is that the two day conclave ended with the passing of the resolution that FAAAI would invite the same body to check its members weight and record their age as the one that keeps track of the WPI ( Wholesale Price Index).

The president of FAAAI told this reporter that the association was formed with the primary purpose of making middle aged women feel happy about themselves. It is par for the course that what will keep the members really thrilled is an index that shows their weight and age going in the negative rather than inching north.

“I read in the newspapers that deflationary trends continued for the ninth month in a row in July 2015 with wholesale inflation plunging to a historic low, in fact plunging into (-) and that this may prompt RBI to cut interest rate ahead of the September 29 policy meet”, a beaming president stated. “That was my Eureka moment. I realized that if someone out there was still able to show a whole country that the WPI is going into negative then he/she would certainly be able to convince the ladies at FAAAI that their weight is going down and that they have slipped into reverse ageing”, added the president.

One of the founder members, who was lurking on the sidelines, twittered that the WPI measuring body had proved its mettle by releasing mind fuddling stats and data to fox the poor Indian consumer. The gullible and eager to be convinced ladies at FAAAI would be really easy work – almost a cake walk.

As one prepared to leave calls were being made to all corners of the country to locate the genius who had fudged the figures and could do so in future too.

In Support of the Death Penalty

2015-09-04T00:36:00.002-07:00

Almost three decades to this day sixteen year old Geeta Chopra , a 2nd year student of Jesus and Mary College, and her fourteen year old brother, Sanjay, a 10th standard student of Modern School, left home to participate in a radio programme called the Yuva Vani on the All India Radio. Two bright young peppy cheerful loved happy youngsters with nary a care in the world. Two days later their parents were called to identify their mutilated, bruised, vandalised, tortured , bodies.

I ask you to close your eyes and bring that moment in front of your eyes. That moment – the moment when the sheets were lifted from the bodies and the parents saw their children. The moment which witnessed the death of a family unit, the death of a mother’s joy, of a father’s pride, the death of hopes, ambitions, laughter, of life as it was that the family had shared.

In that sepia tinted frame of two murdered dead and two living dead, you now see the two killers - the rapists, the vandalisers, the plunderers . The men who murdered not just two innocent teenagers but a whole family. And then, after having seen all this , you are asked to pronounce a judgement. For this rarest of rare case will you not say what the hon’ble court read out on a blistery cold January day in 1981…to be hanged until dead?

The decision to include capital punishment was taken unanimously by the framers of our constitution – the same people who gave us our Preamble, the group which included legal luminaries, freedom fighters, the privileged and the scheduled caste. When the Law Commission submits its report, which by all accounts will recommend abolition of death penalty, it will be going against the considered opinion of those who gave us our constitution.

It is important to remember that the penalty is read out in only the rarest of rare cases. It is because of this rarest of rare clause that a research done by National Law University, Delhi found that only 755 people have been executed since Independence. Wikipedia tells us that a total of 26 executions have taken place in India since 1991. Also important is that just 4 of the 26 hanged since ’91 have been muslims.

Death penalty is not awarded arbitrarily and in a discriminatory manner. Fairness has always been an essential part of our system of justice. When the highest court of the land finally upholds the death penalty order the case has gone through many years of appeals , arguments, testimonies and travelled a complex legal maze. It is very rare, nee almost impossible, that an innocent is given the death penalty.

Amnesty International, which has been a leading advocate of abolishing the death penalty, maintains an official stance of “we in no way seek to minimize or condone the crimes for which those sentenced to death were convicted. As an organization deeply concerned with the victims of human rights abuses, Amnesty International does not seek to belittle the suffering of the families of murder victims, for whom we have the greatest sympathy. However, the finality and cruelty inherent in the death penalty render it incompatible with norms of modern-day civilized behaviour….”

Look at the irony inherent in this statement. The finality and cruelty inherent in the death penalty render it incompatible with norms of modern-day civilized behaviour… The irony lies in the talk of civilized behaviour towards those who have broken each and every mores of the civilized world- those men , and women, who never once paid heed to the finality and cruelty of their actions which resulted in death, who indulged in behaviour which is incompatible with civilized societies. Hasn’t Amnesty itself given the reason why the ultimate penalty should be given to those who do not subscribe to societal norms?

Sitting in the comfort of our living rooms and weighing the pros and cons of capital punishment is akin to discussing whether anaesthesia should be administered to a patient going in for surgery or not.... Those not undergoing the surgery will never feel the pain. Besides the highest court of the land this should also be decided by those who have gone through the trauma of losing a loved one to the act of gruesome murder, rape, mutilation . Remember, for capital punishment to be handed out the crime has to come under the category of rarest of rare.

We should ask the survivors of 26/11 if they are able to sleep at night without hearing the staccato of gunshots; we should ask the families who lost their loved ones to Ajmal Kasab’s madness, we should ask the mother of Nirbhaya if she will ever be able to forgive the ‘juvenile’ who rammed an iron rod inside her daughter.

And we should ask ourselves: how cruel is it of us to even think about the possibility of letting people like Billa Ranga, Ajmal Kasab and their ilk to live on? What if they repeat –in jail or outside- what they have shown they are capable of doing?

Of Emily Dickenson, her Poetry and Death.....

2015-08-23T23:31:00.001-07:00

BECAUSE I could not stop for Death,

He kindly stopped for me;

The carriage held but just ourselves

And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,

And I had put away

My labor, and my leisure too,

For his civility…….

Since then ’t is centuries; but each

Feels shorter than the day

I first surmised the horses’ heads

Were toward eternity.

So wrote Emily Dickinson, one of America’s greatest female poets. I had first stumbled upon her poetry about five years back (There’s a certain slant of light/On winter afternoons/That oppresses/ like the weight/of cathedral tunes. These were the first lines I read and was hooked for life). But the more I read of her poetry the more it emerged that death was a leitmotif - a regular feature.

IT was not death, for I stood up,

And all the dead lie down;

It was not night, for all the bells

Put out their tongues, for noon.

It was not frost, for on my flesh

I felt siroccos crawl,—

Nor fire, for just my marble feet

Could keep a chancel cool.

And yet it tasted like them all;

The figures I have seen

Set orderly, for burial,

Reminded me of mine………

Wikipedia informs that ‘Dickinson was troubled from a young age by the "deepening menace" of death, especially the deaths of those who were close to her. When Sophia Holland, her second cousin and a close friend, grew ill and died in April 1844, Emily was traumatized. She became so melancholic that her parents sent her to stay with family in Boston to recover’.

SO proud she was to die

It made us all ashamed

That what we cherished, so unknown

To her desire seemed.

So satisfied to go

Where none of us should be,

Immediately, that anguish stooped

Almost to jealousy.

At another place she writes

I ’VE seen a dying eye

Run round and round a room

In search of something, as it seemed,

Then cloudier become;

And then, obscure with fog,

And then be soldered down,

Without disclosing what it be,

’T were blessed to have seen.

Emily seems to be not a wee bit scared of death. Isn’t this why she wrote

A LONG, long sleep, a famous sleep

That makes no show for dawn

By stretch of limb or stir of lid,—

An independent one.

Was ever idleness like this?

Within a hut of stone

To bask the centuries away

Nor once look up for noon?

Withdrawing more and more from the outside world by the summer of 1858 she spent her time in writing and reviewing the poems she had written. The forty fascicles she created from 1858 through 1865 eventually held nearly eight hundred poems. This treasure house of poetry was discovered only after her death.

I HEARD a fly buzz when I died;

The stillness round my form

Was like the stillness in the air

Between the heaves of storm……..

At another place she wrote

IF I shouldn’t be alive
When the robins come,
Give the one in red cravat
A memorial crumb.

If I could n’t thank you,	5
Being just asleep,
You will know I ’m trying
With my granite lip!

However, death assumes an unfriendly color at another place…

DEATH is like the insect

Menacing the tree,

Competent to kill it,

But decoyed may be…..

An article in the American Journal of Psychiatry (May 2001) shows that she suffered from a type of manic depression called SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder.

I CAN wade grief,

Whole pools of it,—

I ’m used to that.

But the least push of joy

Breaks up my feet,

And I tip—drunken.

People with manic depression go through periods of depression where they can do nothing and periods of mania in which they can do everything.

HEAVEN is what I cannot reach!

The apple on the tree,

Provided it do hopeless hang,

That “heaven” is, to me.

The color on the cruising cloud,

The interdicted ground

Behind the hill, the house behind,—

There Paradise is found!

Emily Dickinson wrote more than half of her 1800 poems in the three years between 1862 and 1865 when she was manic. She had long periods when she couldn’t write because she was depressed. She wrote almost all of her works in the spring and summer months when sunlight made her feel good, and was unable to write in the winter when lack of sunlight sent her into depression.
Her lasting legacy is that what she wrote in the 1800’s will forever stand the test of time. Can anyone negate these lines?

Death is a lasting argument between

The spirit and the dust.

“Dissolve,” says Death. The Spirit, “Sir,

I have another trust…..”

Or these ?

DEATH sets a thing significant

The eye had hurried by…….

A book I have, a friend gave,

Whose pencil, here and there,

Had notched the place that pleased him,—

At rest his fingers are.

Now, when I read, I read not,

For interrupting tears

Obliterate the etchings

Too costly for repairs.

And these lines……

THE DYING need but little, dear,—

A glass of water’s all,

A flower’s unobtrusive face

To punctuate the wall,

A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,

And certainly that one

No color in the rainbow

Perceives when you are gone

And then these…..

THE DISTANCE that the dead have gone
Does not at first appear;
Their coming back seems possible
For many an ardent year.

And then, that we have followed them	5
We more than half suspect,
So intimate have we become
With their dear retrospect.

And….

IF I should die,

And you should live,

And time should gurgle on,

And morn should beam,

And noon should burn,

As it has usual done;

If birds should build as early,

And bees as bustling go,—

One might depart at option

From enterprise below!

’T is sweet to know that stocks will stand

When we with daisies lie,

That commerce will continue,

And trades as briskly fly.

It makes the parting tranquil

And keeps the soul serene…….

If there was a touch of madness in her sublime genius can one stop oneself from wishing more of us were truly absolutely mad? To get more of such lines….

THERE’S been a death in the opposite house
As lately as to-day.
I know it by the numb look
Such houses have always.

The neighbors rustle in and out,	5
The doctor drives away…..

Somebody flings a mattress out,—
The children hurry by;	10
They wonder if It died on that,—
I used to when a boy…..

The minister goes stiffly in
As if the house were his,
And he owned all the mourners now,	15
And little boys besides……

My favourite first lines…..

2015-08-15T05:14:00.001-07:00

· All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

· It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way."

A Tale Of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

· ‘It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.’

Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell

· "The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there."

The Go-Between by L. P. Hartley

· "It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love."

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

· Mother died today. Or maybe, yesterday; I can't be sure."

The Stranger by Albert Camus

· "He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish."

The Old Man And The Sea by Ernest Hemingway

When I Was A Young Girl

2015-08-07T03:52:00.004-07:00

Margaret Widdemer says it all for many of us in her poem

When I Was A Young Girl

WHEN I was a young girl, all in a green arbor,
When I was a young girl in Springtimes gone by
All the long days I went singing and smiling,
Down by the roses the sweet days beguiling,
Love in the arbor and love in the sky . . .
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, how happy was I! …..

When I was a young girl in days that were golden,
When I was a young girl, and life had no smart,
All the world seemed a place for my playing,
Full of great lovers to come to me, saying,
"Madam, I give you the keys of my heart . . ."
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl,
When I was a young girl, and dreaming apart!

When I was a young girl, I dreamed of my lover,
A tall cavalier who should whisper me low,
"Love, on your lips are red roses a-blowing,
I am your true love, and fast is time going
Am I your true love? Oh, say yes or no!"
When I was a young girl, a young girl, a young girl–
When I was a young girl, a long time ago! …..

Have you heard about CLAT 2015?

2015-07-26T06:01:00.002-07:00

Last evening’s episode of The Blacklist showed, among other things, a judge pursuing with commendable diligence the matter of delivering justice in a murder case. The person under suspicion is an FBI agent. Many agencies are interested in the case being hushed up and the agent not getting indicted in the murder case. The judge refuses to buckle under pressure but in the end has to give in and the case is completely swept under the carpet.

Something uncannily and eerily similar has happened to CLAT 2015. For thousands of students aspiring to be lawyers the Common Law Admission Test is the code they need to crack to get admission to the national law universities. Every year the test is conducted by one of the sixteen national law universities, in descending order of seniority. The university conducting the test becomes the CLAT body for the duration of the period covering the exam and admission process. This year the exam was conducted by the Ram Manohar National Law University, Lucknow.

When the 40,000 students who had written the exam came out of their respective test centres at 5 pm on May 10 their faces were sombre. Most of them knew that something drastically wrong had happened. Within minutes there was an outpouring on social media about the number of errors, plagiarism and about some coaching centres in Lucknow being in the know about the paper.

When, after a public outcry, the test papers were finally mailed to the students it became clear that the paper had about 35 errors. Questions were either wrongly /ambivalently framed or the answers to the questions were wrong. The VC of RMNLU Lucknow and the convenor of CLAT were questioned about the errors but refused to accept that the paper had errors.

There was a flurry of activity and cases against CLAT were filed in the Allahabad High Court, the Rajasthan High Court, the Kerala High Court, the Mumbai High Court and the Punjab and Haryana High Court. In each case the honourable Judges took cognisance of the grievous harm done to the students, directed CLAT to constitute an expert panel to look into the matter of errors and ordered that the admission procedure be put on hold till the final verdict. CLAT however, being made of sterner stuff, steam rolled on and did everything it was not supposed to do. So, counselling rounds, merit list, up gradation of the list, final admission list and then the closure of the procedure all took place.

Now for the interesting and eerie part. What did the different High Courts do in the face of this clear violation of their directives and orders? Nothing .

Tracking the Courts

Allahabad High Court:Complete blackout after May 25,2015. No closure report.

Punjab and Haryana High Court:on July 14 the panel of experts report was submitted by CLAT. The report said that the experts could spot no error. The hon’ble Judge said that even he could spot the obvious errors but no action taken. Complete blackout after July 15,2015.

Bombay High Court: case filed on June 20. Hearings held on June 25, 30and once in July. The court had to look into experts panel report on July 14, 2015 but again a complete blackout and no final order passed.

Rajasthan High Court: case filed on June 10. After a couple of hearings complete blackout in July

Kerala High Court ordered a stay in June on the admission process. Completely silent after CLAT went ahead with the admissions.

In The Blacklist the judge gives in to the immense pressure but even in this process of submission he gives the case a closure. He leaves the people in the courtroom under no ambiguity about his displeasure at the order he is passing. Is it asking for too much when one wishes that a similar closure had been given to the cases filed against CLAT? If nothing was going to be done or said then why were the cases filed? Why was the valuable time of the hon’ble judges wasted in a process that was as farcical as it was pointless?

And now the last question: is what happened in this case the norm for other cases too? Immense pressure from certain quarters and then a deafening silence?

Of course we will have no answers to any of the questions.

Of some questions about a quality called Honesty

2015-07-15T05:39:00.001-07:00

My father, a judge, was a man of habits. He smoked three cigarettes a day, ate cornflakes with milk for breakfast and never failed to regale his family of five daughters and one wife with tales of his honesty. “…and I told him if I ever saw his face in my chamber again I would get him arrested for attempting to bribe an honest officer”. The temptation he had so nobly resisted in this particular case was a sum of 50k, a princely sum some thirty five years back. The stories were invariably told over dinner and left such an indelible impression on my young mind that till date the combination of piping hot paranthas and matar paneer, father's favorite vegetable, invariably seduces me into letting loose a diatribe on the need for honesty in public and private life......

That was till one day my teenage son interrupted me to say, ever so seriously, that may be if nana had been slightly less honest nani may not have had to lead the tough life she led .Shocked, I opened my mouth to ask if all my years of trying to inculcate moral values in him had come to nought when the look of distress in his eyes stopped me in my tracks. Here was a boy who had adored his grandmother and felt rotten every time he saw her worrying about finances. He would have rather seen her carefree and nana dishonest than the other way round. For him honesty was as over rated as a multi starrer big budget bollywood movie. Simply put it was all hype and no substance.

'But...' I all but spluttered, ' it doesnt mean that one just wishes away an important value like honesty. It...'.
The son looked me straight in the eye and said, 'Mum, could you please answer two simple questions:
a. What is honesty? b. Is there anyone in public life who is honest today?'

Readers- I need to get back to him regarding these two questions. All answers will be welcome.

Power Means Never Having to say you are Sorry

2015-07-04T20:18:00.001-07:00

When the Ryan O'Neal, Ali MacGraw starrer Love Story was released in the 1970’s it went on to gain cult status, not only for the gorgeous O’Neal and leggy MacGraw but also for its preppy dialogues. A dialogue which became an anthem for the flower children of that period was Love means never having to say you are sorry. So, it was used in all the tear jerker, angst driven moments of youth: while making up with the best friend or showing noble forgiveness to the ass hole dumping you.

Love Story and its dialogues may have become passé for a generation swooning over vampires and idolizing boy heroes vanquishing those who shall not be named but clearly not for our politicians. From Kashmir to Kanyakumari political families have bequeathed not only petis of hard cash to the next in line but also a paraphrased version of the iconic last liner. Obviously the grand dads and moms who had sneaked in a peek at the movie while studying at Yale (why Yale? couldn’t resist that one Ms Irani !) smelled a good thing and after themselves latching on to it like a limpet gave a clarion call to the sons, bahus and grand children about never letting go of it. They knew even back then, helped I am sure by prescient family purohits, that a time would come when media would cease to mean a few power loyal retainers but instead would resemble a pack of hungry hounds baying for the truth, led by an earnest bespectacled figure waving sheaves of white paper .

That the paraphrased line, power means never having to say you are sorry, has been the leitmotif of political life is amply visible to all. Mrs Indira Gandhi talked about everything under the sun, gave interviews by the dozen to Indian and foreign media but did she ever say sorry for the imposition of, and excesses during, emergency? Or for unleashing her younger son, Sanjay Gandhi, on the people and giving him a free hand to pursue projects close to his heart such as forcible sterilisation? Did her elder son, after publicly humiliating a serving officer and forcing him to put in his papers, ever tender an equally public apology? Did Rahul Gandhi agree on hindsight that he should not have termed the ordinance, cleared by the Cabinet led by Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, on convicted politicians as "nonsense" that "should be torn up and thrown away”?

It would be wrong to single out the members of the dynasty alone. Manmohan Singh has remained ever and anon mum on the coal block allocation; Shiela Dixit on CWG; Mamata Banerjee on her infamous remark on a sensitive issue such as rape- she said rape is on the rise because men and women interact with each other more freely. Gulam Nabi Azad as health minister called homosexuality a disease; an optimistic Sushil Shinde as home minister said,’ The public forgot Bofors, soon they will forget this(Coal Scandal) as well’ and Mulayam Singh Yadav ,excusing rape, said ‘boys will be boys’.

What is surprising is that the Bhartiya Janta Party has, in a marked departure from bhartiya values, also cottoned on to the fact that it is manlier to strut a 56” chest than to show contrition. In 2013 Narendra Modi tendered an apology for the Gujarat riots of 1969 and 1985 which took place under Congress governments but not for the riots of 2002. The BJP’s sadhvis and other sorority have spent much of 2014 and 2015 mouthing utterly startling statements. Sushma Swaraj and Vasundhara Raje have till date not admitted to any impropriety; Smriti Irani has not apologized for submitting an affidavit with a ‘typo’ error; Pankaja Munde is clear that she did no wrong; Shivraj Singh Chouhan is insouciantly going about his daily chores in a state where corpses are tumbling out almost daily …..

Even more surprising is the fact that the Aam Aadmi Party has also joined the power play party. Surprising because Arvind Kejriwal should know the power of saying sorry since it was his repentance and remorse that got him a clear mandate in the 2015 Delhi assembly elections. Post the results, an obviously quick learner; Arvind kept shielding his law minister, Tomar, till the absolute last moment of truth. Even after that what emerged was not an apology but the shifting of blame to Tomar who ‘kept him in the dark’. It is early days but the AAP shows tremendous promise for following the script.

In Love Story Ryan O'Neal’s father is the villain of the piece in the moistened eyes of the viewer for much of the movie. He redeems himself in the climatic scene by saying ‘sorry’. The son hugs him and says,’ Love means….’.

Will our politicians ever realize that a lot will be forgiven if we get to hear that one word?

An Ecstatic Congress Plans Merger of all Political Parties. Group to be called G 420

2015-07-01T03:54:00.003-07:00

With all that has been, and is, unfolding over the last couple of weeks this satirical piece just begged to be written

The Congress party announced today that it has sent out invitations to all political parties of India for a mega event to be held sometime in early July. The party spokesperson, Mr Ranjay Kha , said that the party high command felt that recent events had shown that all parties shared the same ideology and beliefs and hence should come together as one . He informed that the merged parties would be known as G 420.

Faking News had been getting news from sources that from the time the Lalit Modi scandal broke out and exposed the humanitarianism of the ministers and chief ministers of the BJP led government an ecstatic Congress had gone into a huddle. Till the scandal the GOP had felt that the BJP lacked the ‘human’ touch and that the two had nothing in common. “Now that it is clear that the ruling party is as ready to help those in distress as the Congress has always been there is no reason why the two should be so far apart. Hum Saath Saath hai sounds so much better than Dooriyan , especially when unity has been the leitmotif of Indian society ” , a political heavy weight of the Congress revealed. He added that the rest of the parties in India, including the AAP, had already been invited since they fulfilled the basic criteria of scams and taints.

When this reporter asked Ranjay Kha how the moniker G 420 had been zeroed in on, a visibly proud Kha revealed that it was the brain child of the party vice president. “ Rahul ji, during his twenty second chintan manthan for the year- this one in Honolulu, got the idea. It occurred to him when he was swimming with the , er, mermaids . Rahul ji did not want to be accused of plagiarism and so instead of G 20 he came up with G 420. Also, we in India do have so many national and regional parties that 420 seems to be way more appropriate than 20”.

Faking News tried to get the BJP spokesperson to confirm the above. However, all attempts to get Hambit Ratra to verify the super merger failed. An uncharacteristically coy Ratra only agreed to say ‘ No comments’. Meanwhile , owls and other intelligent creatures have sighted unusual activity in and around the Times Now studio. It seems loudspeakers and super effective microphones are being flown in for the studio head and for the guests who will be asked to cower , sorry come, to the studio.

The BJP As We Knew It

2015-06-22T00:46:00.001-07:00

Out of the many random questions that traipse their winding way through the empty corridors of my mind at hazy, lazy moments, catching me unawares and without any answers is the question- whatever happened to the BJP as we knew it ? is the BJP of the present the same as the party we had waited for , through the endless years of the UPA, to come to power at the center and lead us out of the maze of mind boggling corruption, cosy cronyism and deafening silences? or is it some other variant, like a genetically modified brinjal, for which one has neither developed a taste nor an appetite? The question, like a pesky, precocious child doesn't stop there. It carries on to ask- and if what we are now being subjected to is the genetically modified version then will we ever, for five years, five months,five days- ever- be able to see the old lotus- the one we had voted for- bloom and savor its politics?

Much like a mathematics student trying to figure out the proverbial mystery of X, I try and assemble the strewn pieces of my thoughts into a composite whole capable of answering the question. Like most questions in a person's life it soon comes down to the 'I' in the Id, or ,as in this case, the 'we' of a society. If the BJP as we knew it has , like a truant monsoon, bypassed and cold shouldered us then how much responsibility should we ,the people of a sovereign socialist secular republic, own up to? However, applying oneself to the whole conundrum becomes too painful a process and one does exactly what one should have done in the beginning- close the doors to those winding corridors

But as the Sushma Swaraj / Lalit Modi/ Vasundhara Raje/ saga unfolded on television channels and one witnessed, yet again, the bankruptcy of morality, propriety, accountability and ownership by politicians and Very Influential People one realized that the dimming and damming of the saffron color has well and truly taken place. The BJP in which its leaders both distribute and curry favors with those on the wrong side of the law has come a long way from the parent party, the Jan Sangh, founded by Shyama Prasad Mookerjee.

Here was a party which had been 'our party' for the longest time ever. It could have taken the road less traveled but it seemed to have lost its will and way in those yellow woods and opted for the road where the leaves lay well and truly trampled by the GOP, the Congress.

The party in which its tallest leader, also the first non congress prime minister to complete a full term in office, believed in the ideology ,as revealed in his poetry, क़दम मिला कर चलना होगा (we will have to match steps and walk together)is now leaving no stone unturned to ensure that a democratically elected government in Delhi is not able to walk at all. It is another story that the said democratically elected government is also leaving no stone unturned in committing political hara-kiri.This was the party which won only two seats in the general elections of 1984 but still managed to make an impression. Now, the party has 282 seats of its own in the Lok Sabha but is going in the negative where making a positive impression is concerned.

Did we, the BJP loyalists, wait all these years to see ministers and spokespersons look and behave as replicas of the Congress ministers and spokespersons? The same bluster, arrogance and , now we know, the same core beliefs. Yes, the Congress, for us, had always been corrupt and arrogant. But for the BJP to behave in the same manner- no less than a body blow.
One now knows exactly what made Charles Bukowski write, "Are there good governments and bad governments? No, there are only bad governments and worse governments.” (The Most Beautiful Woman in Town and Other Stories).

Arvind Kejriwal accuses BJP and Arnab Goswami of conspiracy to keep him out of the news: Faking News

2015-06-18T04:50:00.001-07:00

Posted by anju8

New Delhi. AAP leader Arvind Kejriwal is an angry man today. The reason is that he and his party have been sidelined from the national news for the last four days.
From the time the Sushma Swaraj – Lalit Modi scandal broke out on Times Now no coverage has been given to the Aam Aadmi Party. The latter is used to being in the news, whether for the right reasons or wrong.

Kejriwal accusing Arnab of conspiracy

Speaking to Faking News Manish Sisodia alleged that Arnab Goswami has sold himself to the BJP, “The Modi expose is just hogwash to keep us out of the news and thus out of public memory. Modi , the 56 inch chest one, knows that out of sight is out of mind and so has directed Arnab to keep unleashing a series of exposes of senior BJP leaders.”
Taking a deep breath a visibly agitated Sisodia continued, “Modi is playing very intelligent politics. He is sidelining us and getting publicity for his own party.”
All efforts to get a quote from Arnab Goswami and BJP spokespersons regarding the AAP allegation proved to be fruitless.
Meantime, Kejriwal has called for an emergency closed door meeting of senior party functionaries. It is believed that the party will draw up a list of exposes of its own ministers and leak them to the media channels friendly to it.
An AAP leader, on condition of anonymity, informed that the first expose will be of Sisodia.
“Manish ji is very excited about making national headlines. This has always been his dream. He and Kejriwal almost came to blows over who should be ‘exposed’ first. But then Arvind bhai was graceful enough to give way,” the leader told Faking News.

No space underground after Delhi Law Minister’s arrest, hundreds of MLAs go underground fearing arrest....

2015-06-12T21:34:00.000-07:00

A short satirical piece by me which came out in Faking News

http://my.fakingnews.firstpost.com/2015/06/11/no-space-underground-after-delhi-law-ministers-arrest-hundreds-of-mlas-go-underground-fearing-arrest/

No space underground after Delhi Law Minister’s arrest, hundreds of MLAs go underground fearing arrest

Published on June 11, 2015 by anju8

Going underground has acquired a new meaning with hundreds of MLA’s across India going into hiding. This follows the arrest of Jitender Singh Tomar, Law minister in the AAP government in Delhi.
Tomar has been arrested on charges of cheating, forgery and getting jobs on a fake degree. He is accused of fabricating his academic degree. Following Jitender Singh Tomar’s arrest unusual activity was witnessed in Vidhan Sabha’s across the country. MLA’s were seen rushing out of the Assembly buildings and being driven away to undisclosed destinations.

One MLA, on condition of anonymity, said that there was fear in the minds of his brethren that the government was now expediting the arrest of all those against whom cases are pending. He added that till now most of the sitting MLA’s were doing just that- sitting pretty- because nothing had ever come out of the cases filed against them.

But now with the arrest of Jitender Singh Tomar, against whom a case had been filed just a few months back, it seemed that the central government had been infused with a sense of urgency to bring criminals to book.

The maximum number of MLA’s gone underground have been reported from Uttar Pradesh followed by Bihar. In some states the Chief Minister of the state and the Speaker of the house have also gone on a’ leave of absence’.