The Open Book

Insert Story Name Here

2015-02-15T23:35:00.000+05:30

Chilly night. Three people around a bonfire - a bald man, a middle-aged woman and Mark. Meeting each other for the first time.

The woman whines about not knowing her gender yet. The bald man whines about not having a name yet. Mark is upset that he actually has a name - probably an indicator that he dies at the end.

They all fall silent and wait for my thoughts to settle. So I am a girl and the name is Mary, she finds out soon. Finally named, but a clichéd name - she's not happy.

They argue again about who will die. The uncertainty is killing them. Mark is convinced he'll die and wants to fix it. Since he doesn't have a name yet, the bald man thinks he's irrelevant and so unlikely to die. Mary smiles hoping she might be the one providing the twist in the end.

I won't let the freak decide who lives, Mark says and stabs Mary to her death. The bald man is quick, and tackles down Mark. The struggle ends with Mark dead.

The bald man looks up. Why don't I have a name yet, he screams at me. Taken aback, I reply that I was thinking of something exotic - something like Hristov. He understands after a few seconds - 'Oh, I was the one meant to die, and Mark messed it up, didn't he?'

I don't know how to react. I make his knife disappear. Doesn't solve anything. I try adding a fourth person, but it's too late. Hristov is moving closer.

"You freak. Someone must always die in the end, mustn't he?" Hristov speaks out from the paper. I run out of ideas and stare at the paper dejectedly.

Hristov manages to change the pen in my hand into a gun, and it now points at me. He laughs at me, at my creation.

*bang*

The En

Driving Lesson (a short story)

2014-06-21T20:41:00.000+05:30

I hate weddings which require a long drive - especially when the GPS navigator says it's a two hour drive.

We entered the highway about 30 mins later. My wife was mentioning something about the drop in traffic when four men stopped our car. One banged my driver-side window, one stood in front and two were banging the boot at the back. They were all shouting something incoherent. My wife and I began to panic, and tried to shut the doors. Too late. One of them got in the back seat, pulled my wife's purse and began shouting about a package. The boot-bangers continued to bang away.

"What do you guys want?", my wife asked. I had frozen in panic, and was honking as though it mattered.
"Where is the package?", he screamed.
"What package?"
"Open the boot."
I opened it, and finally got the boot-banger to stop the noise.

The boot-bangers closed the boot and came to the front. They screamed again, this time at each other. The only words I could make out were 'wrong car' and 'idiot'. They got off and vanished into the bushes.

It took both of us a few seconds to get our breathing back. We locked all doors and drove on in stunned silence. The only sound we heard were that of the engine and the GPS lady.

Head straight for seven kilometres

We slowly got our senses back, and were soon laughing about it. Music and smiles were both back after about 20 mins or so.

Take the left after 200 metres

Good. A shortcut. Gotta get this over with quick. A small road off the highway. Presumably to reach the parallel highway a few kilometres away. Very few vehicles on this route. The road kept growing narrower. The streetlights kept reducing in frequency.

Take a slight left after 20 metres. Then take a right and drive for 3 kilometres

The road got bumpy. The boot hadn't locked properly - kept making sounds with every bump.
Stupid GPS system had brought us on some hiker's path.

Darkness on both sides of the car. Open lands - like the plots of land they sell on TV. We were now driving using our own headlights. A few minutes later, anger gave way to fear. It was a weird claustrophobic feeling in the midst of a vast piece of open land.

We kept looking ahead for the main road, or at least a light or house. Finally, a light in the distance. And a few faces near it. We sighed in relief. It was the first sound from us for quite some time. The car had taken a beating. Rattling sounds from the boot increased.

We drove faster towards the light. We should find out the best way out of here, get the boot shut properly, and get the hell out of here.

Drive straight for 1 kilometre. Your destination will be on the right

We gave each other puzzled looks - destination? The light up ahead switched off. The noise from the boot increased to a steady bang-bang-bang. I slowed down trying to comprehend it all.

I stopped the car and did the first sensible thing of the drive - told my wife to call the police. I looked behind and saw the boot open, and a well-built huge man jumped out - mouth covered with a cloth and hands tied up. "I can't my find phone my", my wife was bumbling.

The muffled boot-man came to my window and gestured at me to untie him. "Did you find the phone?", I screamed. "I found a phone, but it's not ours" - she picked up a phone from inside her purse.

The people under that streetlight were now running towards us. Some help at last, I thought. The boot-man broke my window using his elbow and put his face inside, gesturing again to untie him. I leaned back in horror. My wife reached out to him and removed the cloth from his face, and untied his hands. I was now screaming for help, from this huge madman next to me. The men were approaching faster.

My wife threw the phone out of the window - I was wondering why. The boot-man ran towards the four incoming men, and began thrashing one of them. The other three ran away quickly. The one getting thrashed managed to escape, but not before a few bones were broken. I recognized the guy who got thrashed - it was the same guy who had gotten into our car a few minutes ago.

As we sat there sweating and shivering, the boot-man came back to us. "Those moron hitmen don't have cars to carry us. They use cars like yours to get us to their hideouts. And kill us. Now get out of here." And he ran away.

Once we reached the main road again, my wife hit me on the head and said "Get a car that doesn't pair a bluetooth device without permission. And get me a new phone"

Same Data. Different Stories

2014-01-14T20:36:00.000+05:30

The image shows how you can use the same economic indicators data to make an argument either in favour of the UPA or in favour of the NDA.

Embedding the image within the blog page is making it look wonky. So swalpa adjust madi and click below

http://i.imgur.com/msFKJKf.png

Winning An Argument - Part 2

2013-10-24T23:00:00.000+05:30

Has the fear of humiliation or failure stopped you from entering into an argument on the Internet or in real life? Fear not! This guide will give you five free 100%-success-guaranteed tools.

A. The WONWNT Method
This works best when the future-argument-loser is outraging about something you don't want them to outrage about. Find a suitable example from the past and argue "Why Only Now? Why Not Then" and silence them.
Practice this at home as follows:

Mom: Beta, why are you watching this raunchy Mallika Sherawat song?
You: Why didn't you say anything when I was watching raunchy Katrina last week? Why this selective outrage?
Mom: *vanishes*

B. Fake Statistics Are Your Friend
Make up wild stats and draw a conclusion from it. If they challenge the stats, ask them if they are challenging your conclusion and make them defensive.

You: Hitler was a very bad man. He killed around 1 billion people personally with his own hands.
Arguer: Oh come on. That's impossible.
You: Are you saying Hitler is a not a bad man? *cough* nat zee *cough*
Arguer: *vanishes*

C. The EverybodyKnows Slamdunk
The key to executing this is the right choice of the reference group. If well chosen, the arguer is silenced immediately.

You: Times of India has the most honest movie reviews.
Arguer: What rubbish!
You: Oh come on, everyone knows this.
Arguer: Nonsense.
You: If only you got out of your AC rooms and cars once in a while. Ask any movie buff in the crowded multiplexes and you'll know.
Arguer: *guilt*

D. The Wrong Grammar Trap
They say that when someone doesn't have anything to offer as an argument, he resorts to correcting your grammar. Use this to your advantage with an intentional error.

Arguer: Govt's indirect control on petrol prices should be removed.
You: No, your wrong. If that happens, everyone will have to buy costly cars.
Arguer: *you're
You: Oh I feel for you. Your need to resort to grammar corrections is an admission that you don't have a response. Costly cars are bad for everyone.
Arguer: Er, what I meant is...

E. Insult by Association
Choose a famous bad guy. Find a link from your arguer to the bad guy and deliver the winning punch.

You: Photography is so much better than painting. So much more natural beauty.
Arguer: Painting is awesome too. A larger canvas for your creativity.
You: Do you know who else liked painting? Hannibal Lecter. Are you a homicidal psychopath?
Arguer: *walks away*

Bonus: The War And Peace Approach from Part 1

Major Dheeraj Sharma (short story)

2013-08-03T13:44:00.002+05:30

Major Dheeraj Sharma looked around the dimly lit room. The soldier's eyes quickly assessed the surroundings - one leader, two men and one more like himself. He was made to sit next to the one like himself. He looked at the floor - quickly realizing he shouldn't have. Body parts everywhere. Men before him had come and gone. Many men, it looked like.

They tied him to a chair with a large piece of dirty cloth. One of the men held his body firm and the other pulled out a few devices. One of the devices had multiple pointed edges - at least a dozen edges. Before he realized it, a splash of liquid across his face. He lost his vision temporarily. He could only hear the sound of the device. Sounded like a chopping device - a very sharp one. Dheeraj closed his eyes and waited for it to get over.

The two men were emotionless. Hardened individuals with a job to do. They carefully chose what to chop off and efficiently removed them from Dheeraj's body. Slowly. He clenched his teeth, waiting. The leader watched on from the corner.

When it was over, they took him to a corner of the room. He glanced at the other sitting one - he lay there motionless and his face fully yellow. They made Dheeraj sit down, bend his neck backward and face the ceiling. He noticed the bucket of some liquid nearby. "Am I gonna be waterboarded?", he asked himself. The water began pouring from above him. It stopped after a few seconds. A gooey liquid was put on him next. They repeated the water procedure for another minute. When it stopped, he thought to himself - "I must have gotten used to this already - I no longer feel fear."

"That's enough", screamed the leader. Dheeraj was taken to the leader and the two men walked away. When he had walked across the room, he had absentmindedly stepped on all those body parts on the floor.

A boy entered the room. The leader bellowed at him for being late. The boy ignored him and began sweeping the floor. Dheeraj stared at the boy as he swept away his remains. It felt weird.

He heard the leader say "Haircut and shampoo. 110 rupees". Dheeraj paid him quickly and left.

India's Watergate - A 3572 Lakh Crore scam

2012-08-23T08:25:00.002+05:30

Conversation from the Corruption Assessment Group (CAG) meeting held this month:

"How much is this mineral water bottle?"

"12 rupees I guess. Why?"

"How much do we pay for 'Corporation water'?"

"Around 6 rupees for 1000 litres"

"OH MY GOD. What a huge loss for the exchequer!"

"Huh. What?"

"People are ready to pay 12 rupees for a litre of water. So by giving out water at 0.006 rupees a litre, the exchequer is losing money. Big money"

"Oh correct. The water should have been auctioned to people. They would have been ready to pay 12 bucks a litre instead of this atrocious Rs.0.006. Wait, let me grab my calculator"

Their rage against the ruling party was visible in their eyes as they screamed in anguish at how public money had been wasted.

After an hour of research, they had this on paper:
Per capita consumption per day = 85 litres
Population of India = 1.2 billion
Loss per litre of water = 12 minus 0.006 = Rs.11.994
Loss per year = 85 X 1,20,00,00,000 X 11.994 X 365 = 44,65,36,62,00,00,000 = 446 Lakh Crores
UPA Rule = 8 years
Loss during UPA rule = 3572 Lakh Crores

"OH DAMNIT. Many thousand times worse than the 2G scam or the Coal-gate scam. Our country has been looted by this government"

He threw the calculator down in rage and began typing the report.

"Release this report right away. This is India's Watergate - a 3500 Lakh Crore Scam"

The Scrawny Man (short story)

2012-04-07T10:42:00.003+05:30

Steve was blindfolded at the meeting point. The "Contact" put him in a car. An hour later, they both entered an elevator. Steve asked "I'm paying you 80000 bucks for this. Why am I being blindfolded?” The Contact did not reply.

The elevator stopped and a short walk later, the blindfold was removed. He realized he was at one corner of a parking lot. A huge asbestos sheet was leaning against the wall. They stepped behind it and Steve was soon face-down, peering into the small hole on the floor. There he was - the man he had come to see.

The naked man was lying curled up in a room below. It had no doors, no windows, just a toilet-like hole in one corner and an assortment of random stuff strewn everywhere. The place was a mess. The only light source was a small gap in one corner of the ceiling. A tree's branch was sticking in through that hole - a few leaves lay below on the floor.

The man looked like he was from a malnutrition documentary – thin feeble hands and hair all over the body.

“There are people who will try to "save" him. Many a man wants to play hero nowadays" said the Contact explaining the blindfolding.

“What’s his story? How did he get here?"

"See that small gap on the left end of that roof? He fell through it when he was 2 years old. His mom dropped him in and ran away. Something like that."

"He looks like a twenty year old. What has he been doing all these years?"

"Nothing. He's lived inside that room all his life. No human contact ever."

"How did he survive?"

"He eats the oranges from that tree that keep falling in. The human body - it learns, it adapts."

The Contact narrated the story so far. Scrawny Man had survived on oranges for a few years till this Contact “Joe” had spotted him. The place had stunk of feces then. Joe had removed a tile from the floor below when Scrawny Man was asleep and fitted in a hole-shaped toilet. He rolled down fruits and edible stuff through the tree gap all these years. It had taken the man a few months to realize that the hole was a toilet. Joe told Steve how he still eats oranges unpeeled, gets scared of mosquitoes, plays with cockroaches and eats tree leaves.

Steve looked at Scrawny Man's attire. A glove on one hand and a chain around his neck – someone must have slipped these down the gap. Joe said "Your 80 grand fetches you 3 hours. No touching, no talking. You can do whatever "experiment" you want from here. Send in anything you want from that hole - fruits, balls, etc etc."

Steve wondered if Scrawny Man knew a world existed outside this little box he was in. Does he know he earns this Joe character 80 grand just by being an exhibit? A dozen other thoughts entered his mind.

Just then a rat popped out of the toilet. It sniffed around and landed at the sleeping man's feet. Scrawny Man woke up with a start. With unbelievable swiftness, he picked up a twig lying 6 feet away and stabbed the rat in one swipe. He threw the pierced dead animal to one corner of the room and went back to sleep.

Steve began his experiments. He rolled in a few marbles, which were ignored. Then he sent down a paper and a pen. Scrawny Man tried to understand what they were for, before giving up. Next, he threw in an mp3 player that played some loud rock music. This startled the man as he tracked back quickly and curled up against the wall. He let out loud shrieks. The songs played for a few minutes before he finally fiddled with it and then thrashed it on the ground, breaking it in three pieces.

“What sort of a man are you? How can you sell this man’s freedom like this?” Steve bellowed at Joe.

“Don’t lecture me man. As long as people like you pay big money, we’ll continue. If there are no buyers, the seller stops too.”

Steve didn’t know what pissed him off more – the fact that this was happening right in the heart of the city or that he too felt guilty in this human exhibition.

Steve finished his experiments in 2 hours and was blindfolded to be led back. He reached into his pocket and checked-in to Foursquare.

On the way back, he remembered his “Forbidden Safari” in an island last year. He had paid 250000 for it. The safari was not your usual “tribal dance” and bonfire for honeymooning couples. This was for the ultra-rich and curious – the gang who wanted to do something different at any price. You are introduced to some tribals to interact with them, try out whatever you want with them and learn from how they react. It was an experimentation centre. The exhibits were referred to as “tourist virgins” – people who haven’t met other tourists before. The guy paying the 250000 was their first contact from the “civilized” world.

Steve had experimented with the two tribals by reaching out with his hand, talking, showing them stuff from his bag and giving them food. They responded differently to each item. The eight hours with them had given him enough fodder for the bestselling book he wrote later that year. The meeting had ended when one of them pointed at Steve's chain and asked for it. Steve smiled and said no, but the man became angry and thumped the ground with his feet. Steve panicked, handed over his chain and left quickly.

Steve was in deep thought when the blindfold opened. “Don’t play hero and try to save these people. Let them lead their lives. Just write your books and make money.” Joe told him as they bade goodbye.

Steve quickly returned behind the asbestos sheet, this time without Joe (thanks to Foursquare and GPS). He watched Scrawny Man intently, this time with only one purpose. Just as he saw what he was looking for, one of the tiles on the floor moved. Scrawny Man walked up to it and helped pull in a man. They shook hands and exchanged some money and chatted away. It was Joe. Joe was handing over Steve’s money to Scrawny Man.

Steve quickly rushed two floors below and caught Joe and Scrawny Man as they jumped down from that hole. Steve was livid but speechless.

The naked Scrawny Man spoke first – “We’ll give your 80 grand back. And you forget this ever happened.”

Steve replied – “Not 80 grand. I want even my 250 grand back. And my chain too”

Scrawny Man narrowed his eyes and quickly understood. “We shut that business down. The real tribals in that area caught us. This is safer.” he explained.

Steve mumbled out a “Why do you guys do this?”

Joe repeated – “As long as there are buyers like you, sellers like us will exist.”

Steve tried to come up with a retort when Scrawny Man spoke again “We cannot live with the risk that you will squeak someday. Sorry, but don’t take this personally”. With the same speed at which he killed the rat, a nearby iron rod went straight through Steve.

Business was back to normal the next day. A new client threw a mirror down the gap. Scrawny Man acted all confused and broke the mirror into pieces. The client giggled.

I nowhere. He lives (short story)

2012-03-17T23:42:00.000+05:30

Anupam typed "I wonder how an evil incestful bitch like you is capable of raising children. I hope Child Protection takes your kid away" and pressed Submit. He hated all mommy blogs, and particularly despised this JollyMom's blog. He hated them so much, he was now addicted to these blogs. He checked them everyday and posted nasty comments on posts he felt were either pretentious or sympathy-baiting. He smiled slowly seeing his comment appear under the pseudonym Ma_Puna17.

His roommate, Hari walked in. He banged the door and threw his bag across the room - all to catch Anupam's attention, but Anupam was lost in the laptop. "Stop trolling on the Internet you idiot", Hari screamed to get Anupam's attention. The laptop closed and he said the words Hari wanted to hear - "What happened man?"
"I think Anita is cheating on me." Hari announced.
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, the signs are all there"
"Is it her ex-husband?"
"Not sure. But she sure is distracted nowadays. Also keeps leaving 1 or 2 hours earlier than before."
"The baby must be on her mind"
"No man. The baby is almost always at the grandma's place. Anita is always distracted. Never pays attention to what I say. Something is always on her mind. Or somebody."
"Did you follow her and find out what she's upto?"
"Dude, that's invading her privacy. Not doing that"
"Well, you won't find out if you don't sneak around. If she has nothing to hide, she won't mind you sneaking around, no?"
"Stop lecturing me man - I don't wanna get in trouble. I heard you're a studboy on the Internet. Find me a safe 'high-tech' solution." said Hari and signed off with air-quotes.

Anupam fell silent in thought. A few minutes later, he remembered a conversation with Komal in office and jumped up in excitement - "Hari, does Anita's laptop have an inbuilt webcam?" Hari nodded wondering why he was asking this. "Do you know her IP address?". Hari replied "I don't, but I can get it."

Before Hari could ask him the relevance of the questions, Anupam got to work.

Eight hours later, Anupam explained to a sleepy Hari what he had done in those few hours. "Have you realized that none of the webcams in laptops come with covers?". Before Hari could respond, Anupam continued "Well, my colleague Komal and I were talking that day. She came up with this idea of remotely switching on people's webcams. We laughed it away that day, but I think we can use it now". Hari's comprehension skills were slower than Anupam's speech rate. Before things made sense, Anupam was telling him how their two IPs need to be paired by adding them to a config file in his company's server. Their computer can then switch on/off her camera. The only way it won't work is if she has covered the camera.

When Hari opposed it for being illegal, Anupam guaranteed him that they would not use it to watch her change and other private stuff - it will be used only to see if she's dating someone else.

Anupam chattered away as the yawns began. Hari was finally convinced, and declared to nobody in particular - "A hidden camera that gets switched on by the target herself. Brilliant!". Anupam took a nap for a few hours.

Once Anupam woke up, he pulled up the basic user interface he'd built.
"Gimme the IP address." he asked and rubbed his hands. Once he typed it and pressed enter, the screen immediately showed a bedroom.

"That's her room!" Hari screamed in excitement. They saw some movement in the top left of the screen. Two girls were leaving the room, backs facing the camera. They spoke in barely audible tones and closed the door behind them.
"Did you hear what they were speaking?" asked Hari.
"Not sure. I think I heard 'I nowhere. He lives' or something like that"
"Hmmm. Must be some friend. Let's see who she comes back with." said Hari as they leaned back relaxedly.

Anupam was very proud of his piece of code, especially the decision to switch off any light indicators that may be attached to the camera. He let his mind wander and wondered what mischievous things he can try with this application. Suddenly, he remembered the config file. He logged into his office shared folder and pulled up the config file. The first entry was their own IP paired with Anita's IP address.
"Hari, did you type these IP addresses in the config file? I don't remember typing it here, I just entered it directly on the front-end."
"What is a config file?" he asked confusedly.

That's when the doorbell rang. Komal walked in. Anupam was pleasantly surprised. His question "What are you doing here, Komal?" got no response, just a long stare. Anupam turned pale.

Anita walked in behind Komal. Her face was expressionless. This time, Hari panicked. It took him a while to realize that neither Anita nor Komal even realized he existed. They both were fixated on Anupam.

"I'm sorry Anupam" said Komal. "I didn't know it was you when I helped her"

The config file now made sense to Anupam.

Anita spoke finally "Mister Ma_Puna17, hope this teaches you never to call a girl an incestful bitch".

Anita's words "This is for all the nasty comments" and Anupam's gruesome death was telecasted live on her laptop monitor back in her empty room.

"Always cover your webcam", Komal told a shocked Hari and left silently with Anita.

On the Supreme Court's 2G scam judgement

2012-02-03T09:08:00.000+05:30

The "historic" judgement yesterday by the Supreme Court to cancel the 2G licenses issued in 2008 is bound to have many implications. Saying that first-come-first-served logic was used to assign licenses arbitrarily to market players is a subversion of policy, the Supreme Court has opined that allocation of natural resources must be through a fair and transparent method, such as auctions.

This pretty much means that any allocation method other than auctions can be deemed illegal in future. This is based on the assumption that if auctions are not used, foul play is likely. While in this case, it is fairly obvious that there was some foul play behind the scenes at the time of license distribution and hence the FCFS process of allocation was followed, this might not always be the case.

There surely will be instances in future where auctions are not the best method for distribution. Since the resources once distributed to players and then re-distributed to the general public, higher costs paid originally will inevitably be passed on to the customers. So, if there is a highly competitive bidding process with highest-bidder-wins-all logic, the end consumer is the one likely to suffer the most. The allocation decisions will have to be taken not just based on the bidding amount, but also based on other factors like redistribution ability, past experience, speed to market, existing distribution network and other factors applicable to each resource.

Coming back to the 2G scam, the guilt ought to be proved based on the reasons behind why A.Raja (and others) acted the way they did. There definitely is a reason why he went with the policy decisions he made - the last minute deadline changes, the arbitrary allocation process and the choice of players. This reason, yes you guessed it right, is related to money. This money trail is what should have been used to prove the guilt of those involved. The only money trail exposed so far is the 200Cr loan given by Swan Telecom to Kalaignar TV. This loan is hardly evidence for being a bribe, because of two reasons - the money came on the official books not in a "Swiss bank" account, and that the loan was repaid within quite a short period (even before the scam came to light). Both these reasons make this look more like a loan than a bribe. Because of this, it is difficult to conclude that A.Raja made any money from the 2G scam (though many people think he made Rs.1.76 Lakh Crores) and hence convict him of bribery/corruption.

Either the CBI has been very inept at finding the real money trail or Raja and team have been very very good at hiding the money trail. With the absence of a money trail, the courts have had to find different methods of convicting the obviously-guilty. And this is what we are seeing - the courts commenting on policy-making decisions and having opinions about the suitability of auctions.

The necessity to pronouce Raja and gang guilty has resulted in the Supreme Court opining on matters it should stay out of. We will realize the impact of this mistake when a future such case comes up and this SC ruling is pulled up.

Response to FirstPost's Unfollow-The-PMO post

2012-01-25T21:13:00.000+05:30

This is about Firstpost's article "Time to unfollow the PMO on Twitter" ( http://bit.ly/zY1jot ). When the article was posted online, I tweeted this:

The link got sent around and reached the person in Firstpost who posted it (@AnantRangaswami). After a few back-and-forth tweets, he asked me and @nikhilnarayanan to send him a more detailed clarification of why we felt FirstPost was being unfair. So here goes.

=========================================

FirstPost is a new-age media house that caters more to the Twitter-audience than to the newspaper-reading audience. It is a fun-loving yet analytical, light-hearted yet informative and of course, instant and trendy media house. So, it plays along with Twitter - adding hashtags to its tweets (sometimes excessively), add puns to its tweets (sometimes funny) and retweets other people's jokes. I cannot think of any other media twitter handle that does any of these.

When one of their writers spends a lot of time on Twitter and soaks in all that happens there, it is easy to get carried away into analyzing an issue the way their Timeline is analyzing it. For serious issues, this sometimes works fine - people genuinely have different and thought-provoking opinions and hence Twitter helps get a good two-sided perspective on things. Filter out the jokes and irrational anger from the timeline and you can see some good thoughts. Take both sides of the opinion from these, put them together and you have a well-balanced article that everyone will read.

But for non-serious issues (like - why the PMO twitter handle is a failure), the analysis on Twitter is substituted by jokes. The jokes come easy based on the usual themes of making fun of the PM - PM doesn't speak, PM is weak and of course Sonia Gandhi controls the PM. When the timeline is filled with these tweets (many of them quite funny) and a writer decides to churn out an article, the output sometimes sounds like a serious version of these joke tweets.

And this is what I think is wrong with the "Time to unfollow the PMO on Twitter" article.

It draws on two things from the Twitter account - the fact that the account does not follow anyone yet and that it did not tweet about issues like inflation, corruption, reforms, Rushdie or Norway. And makes the following conclusion in the summary -

The PMO account will be broadcasting, not interacting. It will tell all of us what the PMO wants us to know. It will not be engaging and cerebral, it will be banal and boring, as seen by the first few tweets. It will not be a meeting place for, say, opinion-leaders and thinkers of the country and the prime minister’s office.

The sample size for this conclusion is one day of tweeting. Think about it - just one day. What did most of us do on the first day on Twitter? Even if we do remember it, is it an indicator of what or how we tweet today?

For all you know, the conclusion may turn out to be true - but it still does not justify this article so early. Now, suppose the handle did tweet about those serious issues on Day 1 - it would not have justified a victory article either. Because, well, neither of these conclusions can be made with just a day of tweeting.

The article would have been more apt if it had mentioned about the PMO handle, that it is an attempt to be forward-looking, about its slow start, about the confusion of PM-vs-PMO author, about what it expects from the handle in future and some comparisons to other such handles in other departments/countries. What it does not need is a obituary on day one.

Let's wait and watch before declaring victory or sending it a Rest-In-Peace card.

Drip drip (short story)

2012-01-16T17:39:00.000+05:30

Mr.Rao lay awake in bed. A quick glance at the tableclock - 645PM it read. He got out slowly, wondering how to kill time today. When you're 82, there aren't many things to look forward to. He looked around frantically for ideas. The house was eerily silent - the only sound from a distant leaking tap that made rhythmic drip-drip sounds.

*drip... drip*

The phone rang in the adjacent room. It resonated across the empty house. The big smile on his face suggested he was happy he found something to do. As he ambled towards the phone, he got tired and began sulking. What sort of an idiot disturbs you at this ungodly hour, he wondered.

"Hello, is Rudran there?" the faceless voice said.

"Rudran?", Rao cursed inaudibly. "No such person here. Wrong number". He banged the phone down.

*drip... drip*

He stood there wondering what he had planned to do when he got out of bed. The doorbell rang. Another slow walk begun. He looked through the peep-hole. A tie-wearing bag-carrying man stood outside.

"What do you want?" Rao bellowed.

"I've come to fix your tap."

*drip... drip*

"My taps don't need no fixing."

"But Sir, you were the one who called me over."

"No, of course not." Rao's voice faded as he said that. Maybe he really had called him, he couldn't recollect anything from the morning.

Realizing the opportunity, the man said "Sir, please go check your second bathroom. That's where you said there is a leaking tap. I won't come in if it's not leaking."

Rao closed the peephole and walked toward the dripping sound. The tap really was leaking. That man couldn't have known that unless I told him, he rationalized. Rao let the man in and pointed towards the bathroom.

*DRIP... DRIP*

The man went in with a few tools as Rao - too tired from all the walking - sat on the couch. The dripping sounds stopped a moment later.

The man stepped out and asked "Isn't it time for your medicine? Shall I get you some water?"

Rao was too tired to notice the inconsistency. He nodded and asked the man to get his tablets too. The man walked straight to the medicine cabinet, pulled out three tablets and handed it over. After two tablets, Rao asked the man his name. "I'm Rudran", he said as the third tablet went in. Rao's eyes widened with surprise and non-comprehension. Dizziness hit him very quickly and he closed his eyes.

The phone rang again and Rudran picked it up quickly. "Yeah yeah, of course it worked." Rudran said and listened. He continued "Moron, I told you not to call the landline - you could've messed it up. Anyway, I'll speak to you tomorrow. Bye". Rudran slid silently into one of the rooms and closed it behind him.

Next day morning, Mr.Rao woke up and headed straight to the noises from the bathroom. Rudran walked out from the bathroom with a spanner in his hand. Dripping sounds were back behind him.

*drip... drip*

Rao smiled and asked "Did the entry work alright yesterday?"

Rudran replied "Yes, this method always works. I'll try and come home before sunset today." and left.

As Rao waved him goodbye, Rudran said "I hate this after-sunset memory loss. I want to enter my house normally for once, papa."

*drip... drip*

Let's just print more money

2011-12-14T18:20:00.000+05:30

Kiran was lost in thought. He gathered himself and walked up to his uncle Rao.

Kiran: "Uncle, I have a solution for poverty."
Mr.Rao looked up, curious to hear him.
K: Why don't we just print more money and give them to the poor?
R: It's not so simple. That will not solve poverty.
K: I mean let's just divide the printed money among the poor people. They will spend on what they need and improve their lives.
R: Have you heard of "value of money"?
K: No. What is it?
R: If we print more money, the value of money will reduce and thus make everything costlier - thus nullifying the benefit of printing more money.
K: How?
R: Ok suppose we send fresh cash to everyone in the country. What will they do with this money? Some of it will be used to pay off debts, some kept as savings, but most of it will be spent on new purchases - phones, cars, eating out, etc.
K: Isn't that good?
R: No wait. If everyone starts spending more, it results in higher demand and not enough availability of products. So the prices of these phones and cars and others will go up immediately. So you end up needing to spend more money to buy the same things as before. For example, a flight ticket costs let's say Rs.4000. With new funds in hand, many train travelers would want to fly. This would mean higher demand for flight tickets, and the ticket would now cost Rs.8000. Thus the 4000 bucks in your hand was worth one flight ticket earlier, but is worth only half a flight ticket now.
K nodded as he tried to make sense of this.
R: Here's a different example. Let's assume people are sleeping under flyovers because they do not have enough money to afford rent. Let's say the minimum rent of a house is Rs.1000 for a year. You want to cure homelessness, so you give Rs.1000 free to all the homeless people everywhere. Now they would all try to book those rented homes. The landlords realize that there is now much more demand for the houses and not enough houses available, so they increase the rent to Rs.2000. The homeless couldn't afford a Rs.1000 rented home earlier, they now have Rs.1000 in hand but can't afford the rent because it has now become Rs.2000. Back to square one.
K: Ok instead of just giving away cash, why doesn't the Govt spend on infrastructure like roads, hospitals, schools or to reduce petrol costs and so on?
R: Spending on infrastructure means the money flows to people employed in development, to companies that are contracted for the job and then to their employees and so on. So, again everyone has more money and the sequence to inflation continues.
K: (thinking long) Ok why not just reduce taxes to the equivalent of the printed money?
R: It's the same thing, Kiran. Lesser taxes means more money to spend. Triggers the same inflation cycle.
Kiran walked away lost in thought.

-----------------------------

The next day, Kiran came back to his uncle.
Kiran: Uncle, I hear about bringing black money stashed abroad back to India. How will that help India?
Rao: Well, for starters the black money can just be distributed among the poor people, and we can make them all richer.
Kiran: Nice. Anything else?
Rao: Or maybe the Government can reduce taxes, and offset it with the retrieved black money.

Kiran: Wow, anything else?

Rao: Or the Govt can avoid being so populist, and can use the money to spend on infrastructure development.

Kiran: Didn't you explain to me yesterday how all of these would cause inflation, affect the value of money, and make the extra influx of money essentially useless?

It was now Rao's turn to be lost in thought.

-----------------------------

A minute later, Kiran said - Ok hold on, let's assume that bringing back black money (and pushing them into the economy) is indeed beneficial to the economy - maybe you are not able to explain how. Since bringing this money back is so difficult, the Government should instead make an estimate of the amount of black money stashed abroad, and print new currency worth that amount. This is pretty much the same as bringing back black money, isn't it? And it would have the same economic impact as bringing back black money, isn't it?

Kapil Sibal and Freedom of Speech

2011-12-09T11:31:00.001+05:30

Kapil Sibal got himself in a web of trouble this week over an article in NYT. The article said that he wanted social networking sites to "pre-screen" content before posting them online. You can see why it was easy to outrage about - the sheer volume of pre-screening involved is funny and Kapil Sibal has a very wordplayable name.

Apart from the jokes, there was genuine anger too. The fact that there is a general anti-Govt mood in the country shored up by Team Anna did not help matters. The sentiment across my Twitter timeline and FB statuses could be summarized as follows:

- This is the only place where we can criticize our politicians
- If the politicians are doing something wrong, we have the right to criticize them
- How dare the Govt try to take this away from us
- It's an attack on our freedom of speech
- The politicians are only trying to protect themselves
- And of course, Kapil Sibal is an idiot

Amidst all this, the pre-screening became the focus of the outrage since it was easy to interpret it as - Press the send button, wait for someone in the Govt to read it and then see it get posted a while later. This sounds absolutely ridiculous and will ensure we all log off the internet very soon. Considering that pre-screening is a stupid impractical idea and that Kapil never mentioned it during his press conference soon after, it might just have been a convenient exaggeration by the writers of the original article.

Since the pre-screening had hijacked the discussion along with the need to call Kapil an idiot, the real issue to be debated was soon forgotten. Everyone was now in agreement that whatever content you post online, nobody but you has the right/duty to remove it; and if that is gone, it's an affront on your freedom.

Now when we see some objectionable content on the Internet, we have a few choices before us. Most of them can be categorized under
A. Ignore it and the sender. (Maybe laugh too if it's funny)
B. Block the sender/user so you don't see it anymore. (But others can see it)
C. Block the sender and ask all your friends to report/block him
D. Try and get the entry deleted
E. Try and get the entry deleted and find out who posted it
F. Take revenge by playing the same game back at him

Now for the following sets of objectionable content, spend a few seconds in each and think which of the above A-E you would adopt:
- A facebook status saying "Politician XYZ is a b-word"
- A tweet by an anonymous handle to you calling you a c-word
- An entire blog dedicated to a celebrity with morphed nude pics
- An entire blog dedicated to your blood relative with morphed nude pics
- A doctored picture of a religious idol fucking a goat
- A politician's speech saying he will cut the hands of members of a religion
- A picture of your blood relative f-word'ing a goat
- A satirical article making fun of a celebrity
- A comic depicting a politician as a stripper
- A comic depicting your blood relative as a stripper
- A Youtube video calling non-gays to attack gays
- A blogpost asking readers to torture and kill another country's people
- A tweet calling a corrupt politician a thief
- A politician's youtube video subtly asking viewers to attack a particular religion
- A comic that declares an undertrial politician as corrupt before the verdict

Did you vote A for all these entries? I am sure most of us wouldn't have, but at the heat of the moment of Kapil Sibal bashing, everyone seemed to suggest that any choice other than Choice A is a violation of Freedom of Speech. So when anyone used the "but if" argument (especially when politicians did), they were branded as Freedom of Speech suppressors.

In reality, most of us will have a mix of responses between A-E. You will definitely want to pull down some of this content and you will definitely find some in bad taste, but decide to ignore it. There is always a line at which it crosses over from Okay forget it to Not okay. This line may be different for each of us, but we cannot pretend the line does not exist.

Facebook and other social networks already have a built in mechanism to remove what they deem as objectionable content. These lines are defined as categories listed in their Terms & Conditions that none of us bother reading. None of us complained about Freedom of Speech when they reserved that right with themselves to decide right and wrong. But when the Govt decides that it will play arbiter to right and wrong, we are all up in arms about Freedom of Speech violations.

The solution lies somewhere in between. The debate ought not to be on whether online content should be taken down (the answer is yes), but on what type of content is to be taken down. The type of content branded as "objectionable" is to be discussed. There is already a definition by the social networks and the Govt wants a stricter definition (based on the 228 anti-politician content they wanted Google to take down). These two ought to be discussed with specific examples and a common definition is to be decided. There should be as little subjectivity as possible in the final definition so all the users can easily understand where the line is drawn between tasteless but okay, Not okay and Illegal. The Govt, social network companies and the users should be involved in deciding this Line.

This Line, once finalized needs to be enforced by the social networks based on referrals from users and from the Govt without differentiating between the sources. A court order can of course overrule the Line.

No free hand for the govt. Social networks can't wash off their hands fully. Courts exist as a recourse if you are miffed.

Of course, some of the above points may be wrong/naive/simplistic. But I have the freedom of speech to say it. :-)

Events that occurred after Sachin's last ton

2011-11-30T07:18:00.001+05:30

http://eventsaftersachinslast100.tumblr.com/

So, let's see how many more events we can add to this Tumblr before it loses relevance.

Add your suggestions in the comments section

The chicken are dying

2011-10-23T19:11:00.000+05:30

Occasionally, I receive mails from people trying to contact one of the other 131 million Senthils around the world. Most often, I either delete the mail or reply back politely saying Wrong Number. But, there are days when I go mad and do random stuff.

So one day, a chicken buying company sent me an order for around 1500 kg of chicken and also added a few complaints about our (well, someone else's) service.

First, read their mail yourself.

I first had a hearty laugh about the mail. But realized that I had been insulted. Had they not complained to me so much, I would probably have ignored the mail. But no! They will face my wrath now!

So, this is the response they got from me. My tongue firmly lodged in my cheek.

How I wish I could have seen his face when he read my response. :-)

Burn out than fade away (short story)

2011-10-19T08:46:00.001+05:30

Most movie makers work backwards. First they look for that brilliant ending. A shocking one. Or a surprising one. One the audience cannot predict midway. Once it's in place, they work the story backward. Find the characters, build them, name them and write the story. Lay out the path that leads to the finish. Leave enough hints on the way, but not too obvious. Be vague in some places. Set them up for something, then pull the carpet from underneath. Bait and switch.

And this is how Gwindle Adams liked to make his movies. All seven of them. Each of them had left his audience surprised. Yes, the word was Surprised, though he liked to believe they were Stunned. But this eighth movie was different. He had finished shooting almost two hours worth of footage, but hadn't thought of the climax yet. He had begun shooting before the idea came by. Six months in and no ending decided. First time ever. Gwindle closed his eyes and went into deep thought.

Joseph Newrich came in smiling, almost apologetic. Gwindle's assistant. Fancy designation - Head of Creativity. Full of ideas. None of them good. "You wanna hear #15?" he asked. He immediately realized he had phrased it wrong. It would remind Gwindle that 14 times he had failed. Before Gwindle could react, he began speaking - "Tom gets depressed, starts drinking, goes mad and burns down the last building he built." Gwindle heard him, twisted his face and threw his glass at Joe. Lost his temper. Screamed like a madman. First the glass dining table was broken, then the vodka bottle and a few books were thrown at Joe. That's when Joe walked out, wiping the blood off his forehead.

Joe had had enough. He hated his job. This was going nowhere. He sat down, wanting to quit and walk away. Ten minutes later, Gwindle came out to apologize. He tried his best to look genuine. It won't happen again, Gwindle assured him. This is not the first time, mumbled Joe as he felt the other 3 scars on his face. Gwindle ignored him and began to talk calmly and slowly.

"Listen to me carefully. Concentrate. I'll recap the story so far. Understand the flow and what I want. Ok? The protagonist Tom is a famous architect. He's built seven monuments. All of them are now tourist attractions just for the design. He's received multiple awards. Fame. Money. Women. He's living the rockstar life. But it's fragile. One bad building and it would all be over. He's now building the eighth. And he knows it isn't his best. He's struggled for ideas. He still doesn't know how it'll finally look. And he knows a ninth one will be a disaster. Will ruin his reputation. This is his last. Gotta retire now. Before people realize he's lost it. Got it? Now I need the climax scene. He has to go. The building must remain in his memory. Need the message out subtly. Not spoonfed. Gotta make the audience interpret. So yeah, we can't burn down the building. Got it?" Gwindle made the speech and walked away, leaving Joe in thought.

Joe sat there like a statue. Forehead creased, eyes closed, fingers clenched. An hour passed. Then a smile broke slowly. Became a wide grin. Number 16 was here. Sweet 16. This time, Joe walked in confidently. He pulled up a chair and began narration. He spoke non-stop to a bewildered Gwindle. Once he was done, Gwindle was sold on the idea. He got up and gave Joe the longest hug. Holding his shoulders, he said "I love you, my man. I'm gonna miss you." They got to work.

The movie released a month later. First day first show sold out. Packed cinema hall. Gloomy crowd. Some people standing. Some on the floor. Not enough space. They watched silently for an hour and 50 min. They loved Tom. They cared for him. They loved the eighth monument. They felt sad when he cried. They laughed when Tom laughed. They wondered what Tom was going to do.

The final scene began. Tom sitting in his twelfth floor apartment. Sitting by the window. A drink in his hand. Bright daylight outside the window. Buildings all around. He spoke emotionally into a tape recorder. He spoke about his past. He spoke the truth. He said he wasn't happy with his work anymore, and wanted to stop. I want to burn out, not fade away. He told the box that he's giving up and retiring in some secluded island. Goodbye he said, but he won't kill himself. Switching off the recorder, he said to himself, but actually addressing the audience - "I don't wanna leave a lie behind. I'll be honest to myself and all my followers. No subtlety. No secrecy. Gotta go out my way" and put the tape in a bag that read "Confidential. For the New York Times."

He took a swig from the whiskey and stared out the window. The cinema hall fell silent. They saw some movement in the window opposite Tom's window. Slight movement of a man. They didn't know if it was relevant. This man walked out of the window and stood on the edge. The screen began to shake. The cameraman was adjusting. He was zooming into the opposite window. Before the blur went, the man jumped. The camera moved to the window and looked down. The audience followed the view. The camera focussed. The face of the splattered body was now visible. The audience gasped. They knew the face. This scene looked real. The screen went blank.

"Please note - The final scene was caught on camera accidentally. It was not part of the shoot" it said in the middle of the screen.

They were stunned, not surprised. The longest applause followed when the screen read "In loving memory of Mr.Gwindle Adams. Rest In Peace." A standing ovation followed. Applause went on for ten minutes.

Tears rolled down Joe Newrich's eyes as he clapped from the first row. "Just the way he wanted.", he told himself. "Gwindle had burned out. Not faded away".

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

* This is the 8th short story written by the acclaimed short story writer William Kingston. When he committed suicide by consuming poison, this scribbled story was found next to him as a suicide note.

.

Five Rupees Feast

2011-09-13T16:30:00.000+05:30

Today, we learn the technique of eating fantastic food all day for just Rs.5.

I assume here that you have one decent formal-looking pant-shirt with you. Wear it and get an Economic Times newspaper (Rs.3) and a gift wrapper (Rs.2). Here we go -

Breakfast time:
Find the nearest "star hotel"
Reach by 8AM or so
Fold up the ET and put it under your arm.
Walk briskly past the reception
Take the escalator and go to a random floor
Find a room with the newspaper bag still hanging outside
They're surely still asleep
Now go to the breakfast room
They'll ask you for your room number
Give them that newspaper bag's room number
They'll tick it on the sheet and give you a table
Enjoy the free All-you-can-eat buffet breakfast
Choose from at least 30 dishes
Walk out dishing "Good morning"s to everyone around

Dinner time:
Fold up that same Economic Times
Wrap it using the giftwrapping paper
Find the nearest wedding reception hall
Walk briskly inside smiling at everyone you see
Girl's side will think you are from the boy's side
Boy's side will think you are from the girl's side
Neither will want to embarass the other's family
Once you are in, get rid of the wrapping paper
Walk straight to the dinner table
Enjoy your free All-you-can-eat buffet dinner
Choose from at least 20 dishes
Walk out dishing smiles to everyone around

Oh, you want lunch also? Well, as the cliche goes, there are no free lunches.

For Rs.5, you just ate more food than 99.999999..99% of the world gets in a day.

Ind-Eng series v/s Team Anna's fight

2011-08-28T11:10:00.001+05:30

JAN GUN PAL bill

2011-08-20T18:04:00.000+05:30

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Introducing the Jan Gun Pal bill, which proposes that everyone gets a free gun and when they meet a corrupt person, just shoot him/her.

This is based on the following logic:

1. Jan Lok Pal bill proponents say that:

"There is corruption -> Corruption is bad -> Our laws don't stop corruption -> Anna is saying his law will stop it -> Any law is better than no law -> So who cares if the law has problems.

2. As Anna Hazare himself said, it is time to put the matter in the hands of the people. ( http://twitter.com/ndtv/statuses/104835016592334848 )

Here's a point-by-point comparison of the JAN GUN PAL bill with the other two bills:

http://i.imgur.com/p6rV3Ku.png

Keys in the mall

2011-07-08T23:49:00.000+05:30

What happened at the mall today (true story):

parked my car and walked into DLF place
first i went to book store and picked up a magazine
then went to music store and picked up a dvd
then went to food court and ate some shawarma
then to bakery within foodcourt to buy muffins
and finally to grocery store to buy weekend eateries
Then dragged the 5 bags to the car park at 10pm
Realized on reaching the car
No car keys on me
and house keys inside car
no place to go, no place to sleep
no one to call for help
mobile battery low
panic
one of the bags broke in my hand
panic increased
i opened all bags and searched for the key - nothing
kept some bags under the car
and ran back to the mall to back trace
i remembered having it at food court so skipped music and book store
went straight to the grocer - checked all aisles i went to
checked his cash counter - Nothing at the grocer
then to food court
asked the cash counter guy - nothing
asked the shawarma guy - nothing
asked the muffin guy - nothing
sweat
legs weak
anger
what if car was getting stolen now
what if the thief took house key and went to my home
"stop worrying continue searching"
checked the table where i ate half hour ago - nothing
went to the place where i threw the used plates
a big dustbin next to it
shoulder high dustbin
the cleaner came near
asked him to look inside
he began searching
kept removing stuff and putting in another garbage bag
his hand was filled with gooey stuff people had thrown away
after half way through, he gave up and told me to go away
i told him to go on till he gets a minute maid orange bottle
that was what i ate with the shawarma
he wasnt interested in continuing
he tried to escape
i begged
then he went on after long sigh
a few more layers of gooey stuff
liquidy stuff
dirty plastic plates
strands of noodles
leaking bottles
yucky gravy
half eaten burger
uneaten icecream
minute maid orange bottle
AND THERE WAS MY KEY!!!!!!
Keys came out dipped in random liquids
i didn't care
grabbed it and jumped in joy
i almost hugged the guy
got it washed, paid the guy 100 bucks and came back home
happy happy happy

I had found the keys to happiness.

Pigeonhole (short story)

2011-06-27T14:06:00.000+05:30

"Do you wanna hear a Microsoft interview puzzle?" I looked at Suraj challengingly.

"Hmmm... Alright" he said, with a I-have-heard-them-all-before look on his face.

"Suppose there are 10 pairs of socks in a drawer. How many individual socks must you... "

Midway through my sentence, "THREE" he screamed triumphantly.

"Wait no! What is the minimum number of individual socks to be removed before being assured of getting a proper pair?"

"Yeah, I already told you it is three" he said, impatiently glancing at his watch.

"Hahahahaha" I bellowed.

"Ok, first of all, this is not a Microsoft question" Suraj began correcting me.

"Wait wait. Hold on, my friend. Your answer is wrong. Think again."

I seemed to have shaken his composure. He suddenly stood up straight and recanted the question in his head.

"Oh shucks. I confused this with that black socks-white socks puzzle. The answer is 11"

"Gotcha" I said triumphantly as he hung his head in shame.

After a pause, he looked up and said "Is that why you are wearing a blue sock in one foot and black in the other?"

"Er, um. Yes. No, what?" I sputtered. Regaining composure, I said "I got bored after picking out 8 different ones today."

Tip Calculator

2011-06-27T10:06:00.000+05:30

Contradictions in "Team Anna"

2011-06-20T09:33:00.000+05:30

Today's Hindu carries a strategically timed article blasting the Government for how it has handled the Lokpal Committee. It's written by something/someone known as "Team Anna" and was submitted by Prashant Bhushan to the newspaper.

I expected this to be the usual monologue based on that now-well-developed five step argument -
1.India is corrupt.
2.People are angry.
3.Lokpal is a panacea.
4.Government doesn't want to kill corruption.
5.So Government doesn't want Lokpal.

I did not really expect it to cover the other questions that some political commentators asked about the Lokpal -
1. What if Lokpal members become corrupt?
2. How will Lokpal members be chosen without conflict of interest?
3. How will Lokpal affect corruption at the grassroot level - the one that really matters to the "angry people"

But after reading it, I realized that it did address all three points in the cliched generalistic manner and then went on to contradict itself in other sections of the article.

Here are a few samples:

On the conflict of interest issue in member selection:

CVC is useless because it is selected by people with vested interests like the PM, Opposition Minister, etc...

The Central Vigilance Commissioner of India (CVC) is selected by the Prime Minister, the Home Minister, and the Leader of Opposition, who have a vested interest in ensuring that weak bureaucrats get selected.

... but the Lokpal members will be selected by the same PM, Opposition Minister and four people from the (corrupt) judiciary

the 11-member Lokpal would be selected by a broad-based selection committee consisting of the Prime Minister, the Leader of Opposition, the Chief Election Commissioner of India (CEC), the CAG, two Judges of the Supreme Court, and two Chief Justices of the High Courts.

On corruption that actually affects the "angry people":

It mentions that the people suffer the most from corruption at lower levels...

Bribes have to be paid for ration cards, passports, building permits, and for doing even normal business. Street vendors and rickshaw pullers are forced to pay bribes for exercising their fundamental rights. Villagers are forced to pay bribes for getting their wages under the Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act (NREGA) or for any other entitlements in other schemes. High-level corruption is plundering the public exchequer, distorting government policies, and creating a criminal mafia, which has come to dominate all institutions of power. Low-level corruption is making life impossible for common citizens.

... but the Lokpal 11-member committee will not cover these.

with Lokayuktas in the States to investigate public servants of the State governments and local bodies)

On what if Lokpal members become corrupt:

The Judiciary is corrupt...

... and there is also considerable corruption in the judiciary because of the lack of accountability of the higher judiciary and the lack of an effective anti-corruption agency to investigate corruption within its ranks.

... but the Lokpal will be accountable to the same Judiciary.

The 11 members of the Lokpal would be accountable to the Supreme Court of India, which would examine complaints against them and order their removal.

So, as it turns out, the 5-step argument did continue in this article too but riddles itself with loopholes. And ends up using the same arguments to speak both for and against the same point.

Not surprisingly, it ends with with another jingoistic summary of what the "people of this country" want:

The people of this country are fed up with the all-pervasive massive corruption in the country and are determined to have a strong and independent Lokpal. Any government or party that goes against the wishes of the people will do it at its own peril.

Sigh. Someday, we'll all realize that we have been had. By both sides.

Payment in kind (short story)

2011-05-10T10:04:00.000+05:30

The hand shower seemed to understand Alok's pain. It was his sounding board to vent out his frustration. He could always have conversations within those four walls and nobody would hear him.

Today, the frustration was because of a shirt. He had an interview scheduled in an hour and he had burnt the only good looking shirt he had. "Why do I always do such things?" he asked the shower. "Why can't I be more careful when handling this cheap iron box? Damn dAmniT DAMNIT" he screamed.

The screams followed by silence brought some clarity of thought and he decided he would postpone the interview to a few days later. At least two shirts should be bought before that, he told himself. His body relaxed and he began a fifteen minute bath under the warm water.

A minute after he stepped out, the door bell rang. Alok opened the door to hear "Sir. I am door-to-door shirt saleswoman. Many branded shirts I have. You want?" Any other day, he would have shooed away these pesky salespersons, but not today. The unexpected coincidence brought a smile to his face. He picked up 3 shirts from the girl, thanked her and thanked the lord for the divine intervention.

The rest of the day fell in place perfectly and he got the job. He came home and thanked his bathroom and the hand shower. "It works" he mumbled to himself in a satisfied tone.

A month passed and on one Monday, he woke up late. He cursed the alarm that hadn't worked. It was 7:48AM and the office bus was 12 minutes away. Missing that bus would ensure he would miss that 10AM meeting in office. Hurriedly, he got ready. The hand shower heard him abuse the alarm clock, heard him pray that the bus would wait for him and then was slammed against the wall in frustration.

By the time he was ready and out of the door, it was 8:07AM. He was thinking of a Plan B to get to office. He looked dejected till he saw that his bus was standing a few metres outside his house.The bus had caused a traffic jam of a few dozen cars behind it. He got in silently and seated himself in his usual seat. He learnt that the bus had stopped because of a woman lying in front of the bus. The fellow passengers said she collapsed on the road when crossing the road. Alok walked up to the front of the bus to see the commotion.

Three men helped the woman up and led her across the street. The bus started as Alok watched the woman slowly regain consciousness. She looked familiar. He was pondering where he had seen her before, when the bus drove away. He settled back in his seat confused.

Meanwhile, the woman walked off to her home. She opened her laptop, brought up the latest download and watched it intently. The well-practiced three step process then followed - mute the audio, rename the file and upload the video.

"Payment done in kind" she murmured to herself as she sent out a notification to the 1400+ subscribers - "New video Hidden.Camera.IndianGuy.In.Bathroom.Part.32.avi uploaded in www.HiddenCamGuys.com"

Winning an argument (short story)

2011-04-13T00:24:00.000+05:30

There was time when I could win any argument. Any. Argument.

A few years ago, an arrogant guy and I had an argument that went like this:

Guy: Ragging must be made illegal. The recent deaths should be an alarm for us to set this right.
Me: Laws will not curb ragging. We should change things at the ground level. The only way to fix the ragging deaths is to put a fine on the parents of the kids who die.
Guy: What nonsense! How will that help?
Me: Have you read War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy?
Guy: No. Why?
Me: You will understand what I mean when you do.
I gave him a condescending look and walked away the winner.

A few months later, this discussion happened with an all-knowing lady.

Lady: Obama's victory is a victory for all black men.
Me: Every second, there is a black man dying somewhere.
Lady: What's your point?
Me: Only when black men stop dying can we declare success for anti-racism
Lady: Dude, that doesn't make any sense.
Me: Have you read Leo Tolstoy's War & Peace?
Lady: Yes I have
Me: Oh. Ok, do you remember Chapter 14?
Lady: Not really. I'll have to read it again.
Me: Go read that chapter. You'll understand what I mean.
The same condescending look followed by a smirk and I walked away from her.

This has gone on like this for many years till this discussion with my good friend Alok Pal happened today:

Alok: Corruption will be completely rooted out if this new Bill is passed.
Me: No chance that a Bill will stop corruption
Alok: Oh yeah? Do you have a better solution? If you don't, stop objecting to the Bill.
Me: The only way to fix corruption at the grass-root level is Guns.
Alok: Guns?
Me: Yeah. Everyone should be given guns. If someone asks you for a bribe, we can just shoot him. Complaining and taking him to court will take ages.
Alok: That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.
Me: Have you read Leo Tolstoy's War & Peace?
Alok: Yes I have.
Me: Do you remember Chapter 14?
Alok: Not really, but wait.
As I looked on stunned, Alok pulled his Amazon Kindle out of the bag.

And that is why I hate these stupid e-book readers. I don't win any arguments anymore.