Happy or sad?

Power Minister Sushil Kumar Shinde has this to say:

"There is a power shortage in the country now, but the situation is slowly improving," he told reporters at the airport here. "Everyone in the country will get at least one unit of power by 2012," he added.

India will become power surplus by 2012, and everyone in the country will get at least 1 unit of power. This is a difficult proposition. Where would this power come in from? Mega power plants like Sasan are likely to provide solutions in pockets, but is the environmental ministry evaluating the impact of such a rapid power surplus on the environment of the country? Are any steps being taken to ensure that a good percentage of this power is going to come from renewable and non-polluting sources of power?

Must I be happy as an Indian that a fellow Indian will now have electricity for farming, or must I be sad that this is coming at a price that India might repent for centuries to come?

Hyderabad Blasts - 2

The final outcome: 2 bomb blasts, one at Lumbini park and one at Gokul chat. Thirty five people have been killed.

Lumbini park is one of Hyderabad's first symbols of entertainment. It was created so that the residents of a laidback city could have something to do with their family on an evening beside the historic Hussein sagar lake. Lumbini park was an evening with school friends. Lumbini park was the first time a government decided to give hyderabadis a fun hangout which was not a movie hall. Maybe it will never be the same again.

Gokul chat has its own place in the history of Hyderabad. Legend goes that Gokul chat started off as a push-cart in the famous shopping area of Koti. A tribute to the spirit of our native entrepreneurship, this pushcart became a small shop, further went on to be a large shop, and now is a multi-storey shop. To this day, Gokul chat has a big signboard that says, "We have no branches". The clientèle for Gokul came from many parts of Hyderabad. Even when the city transformed from a sleepy city to a powerhouse from where Silicon valley, IITs and American universities were driven, a Hyderabadi never failed to visit Gokul chat on a visit to Hyderabad. Gokul chat was another symbol of our transformation to a new world.

It is strange that today, both these places can be described as a symbol of our communal tension and the shadow of terror that is constantly looming in the horizon. Is any Indian city safe today from the threat of a terror attack? Can any Indian outside the country feel safe that his parents in India are going to go through the day unscathed?

Moments like this make me wonder what someone got out of this attack?

Some family saved up money all week and went to Gokul chat for an evening of chaat. A father, his wife and two children all balanced on his scooter went and parked at the busy Koti car parking. It was a family full of dreams, with tiny investments in the stock market and dreams of a small flat in the outskirts. None of their bodies have been put together yet.


Some young boy took his girlfriend to watch the laser show at Lumbini park. He held her hand during the interval, and took her to buy popcorn. His severed arm is still lying there now, in a pool of blood, while investigators try to put the pieces together, quite literally now.

Tomorrow will be a new day, and monday will be a new work week. We will forget again, and move on with our lives. But lets just take one moment and think about a peaceful India.

You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

Hyderabad Blasts

I'm watching NDTV and CNN-IBN, and I realise that none of India's premier news channels are willing to give this more priority over Chak de India, so I shall feature it on my very own news channel - the blog.

Twin bomb blasts in Hyderabad, one in front of Lumbini Park and one in front of the famed Gokul Chat, Koti. The injured have been taken to Medicity Hyderabad. As reports are coming in, it seems that nine people are dead and one is injured.

Please stay at home. The night is going to be difficult.

Peace

The greatest peace is, I have begun to believe, in realizing that you are confused, but knowing that it is a part of life and loving the perspective that comes with it.

Bluff

Every once in a while, even Sagarika Ghose happens to have a good guest on her show. One such guest remarked, very insightfully, that the Left has been playing the game of bluff with the Congress since they started their relationship. The left has been playing a very intelligent game of playing opposition from within the government. Hence, the BJP and the other opposition parties have been effectively marginalized. Whenever the government does anything good for the country, the left parties share the credit. Whenever anything even remotely suspicious takes place, they waste no time in threatening to pull out support. This has been going on for years now. Much like a game of bluff, they have been saying they would withdraw support every few months. By using this tactic, the left has become the most powerful political party in the country, and Prakash Karat, India's most powerful man.

The 123 nuclear deal is a Pranab Mukherjee special. The conditions of the deal are well spelt out by the prime minister's speech to the Lok Sabha, where he makes a few interesting points. Clinically, he makes point by point rebuttals on the floor of the house. "Let history judge", he said emphatically, to the loud thumping of desks in the parliament. The opposition from within, the Left parties, staged a walkout and laid seige on the well of he house. Very soon, the Left said they would withdraw support if the deal went through. Now, like an experienced player, Manmohan Singh called their bluff. He went on record to tell the left to "take it or leave it". It was a wonderfully thought out tactic, but not handled well enough.

There are two ways to handle the left parties. One would have been to go internal and buy them out and convince them of the merits of 123. Another is to go on the offensive, and dare them to withdraw support. Herein lay the fallacy. The left did not anticipate the Congress to make such a statement. The left is in no position to go to the polls in its two traditional strongholds, West Bengal and Kerala. In both these places, they would have taken a heavy beating. They needed their place in the sun for the next two years, if only to wash away the sins of Nandigram.

So this move puts them in a spot. They are now dared to withdraw support. So they make a few volatile statements, and wait for the congress leadership to get tense. By Congress leadership, I mean a particular lady at 10, Janpath. Immediately, Manmohan Singh calls for a meeting with Budhadeb Bhattacharya. The old warlord, Pranab Mukherjee gets into the act, trying to use his Bengali connections in the Left. Despite their best efforts, the Left is going on an offensive now, because they have now committed to too far. They cannot risk being exposed, because for a communist party, that is a fate worse than death. A simple act of defiance to gain publicity had gone bad, and both parties were going to fight it out till the end. The Japanese Prime Minister visits India, and enquires about the volatile situation. The Prime Minister tells him that everything is under control, and the deal will go on as decided. It is a golden opportunity for India to gain energy security, and Manmohan Singh will not let it go. Negotiations move on, and Toshiba has now committed to provide equipment for nuclear reactors.

Like a game of war strategy, this is where we stand today. The left has burnt its bridges, and there is no going back. The Prime Minister has committed to something which he is unable to stand by, because of pressure from 10, Janpath. The way I see it is, one head does have to roll, because this partnership has reached boiling point.

There are two possibilities going forward: India could make certain modifications to 123, and get back to the drawing board with America. As far as America is concerned, however, the deal is signed, and we now need to sort out our internal affairs. So this is not an option.

The only other option is for someone to compromise. That could be Manmohan Singh. Much as I hate to say it, it is likely that Manmohan Singh might be forced to resign on this issue, just so that the Congress and the Left can still live.

The community

A maid in India's metros has a very difficult life. Often, they have to life at far flung places because houses in the posh localities are very expensive. So they often have to travel hours. If they are in Mumbai, this travel almost 3 hours daily to get to their employer. With the poverty ensuring that both people in the household need to work, the lady is often left without a choice in whom she works for. Sometimes, the maid also gets exploited, since she needs the money and can work overtime for it.

In all this, it is often important to have a community in place that can stand up for you. It was good to watch this on Times now:

The peaceful semblance and tranquility of an upscale residential complex in Thane was shaken when a raging conflict broke out between a wealthy flat owner Prakash Shetty and his maid's supporters.

On Tuesday (August 21), Shetty was dragged out from his home, and beaten silly. It seemed as if instant karma had come quick to Prakash Shetty, who had allegedly assaulted his maid Laxmibai after he suspected her of stealing a showpiece from his flat. Laxmibai has also accused her employer of sexually molesting her.

On a mission

Today, I watched while the CEO of a large organization, with a market cap of over a billion dollars, unveil the new mission statement of his organization.

He started off with a Powerpoint presentation, which was a corporate standard template. Everyone knew what he was about to say. He gave a small introduction with the first slide on, and then he began to explain the mission statement. He hmmmed and hawed, and talked about how excited it was. He was clearly nervous, with hundreds of employees staring at him.

He then went on to reiterate his commitment to executing the mission, and he unveiled the slide with the mission statement. It was a standard Microsoft Powerpoint presentation slide, with four default clip-arts on the page. His mike kept faltering, like his voice and his body language. He kept turning his back to the audience, to look at the slides. One of his assistants was pressing a wireless button to move to the next slide, when he could have very well done so himself. He looked in a hurry to get done with it, and had clearly not rehearsed.

Its the most important day in the leadership of a CEO leading a small but inspired family. Everyone looks forward to the day when he can guide them into a future full of possibility.

If the CEO can't spend two full days preparing a video, voice, music experience where he unveils the future of his company, and he does not know what's coming on the next slide, what is his role?

Or am I wrong in expecting every CEO to be Steve Jobs?

Tryst with destiny

The Prime Minister of India, Dr. Mahmohan Singh, walked up to the bullet-proof podium, after being welcomed to the Independence day event at Lal Quila, New Delhi. He paused one second, and took a deep breath. He moved forward, held on to the silk rope, and gave it a firm tug.

Two thousand dignitaries from different countries, the leadership of the Army, Navy, Air-force, Bureaucrats, Ministers, and MPs arose from their seats. He saluted the flag, while the national anthem was slowly wafted through the air. Gunshots were in the air, as a gun salute was demonstrated. Millions of Indians across the country watched this historic occasion, while a young country was celebrating its sixtieth birthday. And I, standing amidst that glory at Red fort today, was feeling goosebumps at the prospect of what had been achieved that day sixty years ago, yet what still remains to be achieved today.

Independence means many worlds to many people. To some, it is purely the freedom to express. For some, it is the freedom to be themselves. For others, it is the freedom to not report to anyone else. In this part of India, however, Independence day signifies the culmination of months of the worst forced migration in recorded history. Over 20 million people lost their homes, and millions of others never reached their destination. The Madras based daily Swatantra wrote, in 1947, of the partition of India:

An empty refugee special steaming into Ferozepur Station late one afternoon. The driver was incoherent with terror, the guard was lying dead in his van, and the stoker was missing. I walked down the platform - all but two bogeys were bespattered wit blood inside and out; three dead bodies lay in pools of blood in a third class carriage.. An armed Muslim mob had stopped the train between Lahore and Ferozepur and done this neat job of butchery in broad daylight.
There is another sight I am not likely to easily forget. A five-mile-long caravan of Muslim refugees crawling at a snail's pace into Pakistan over the Sutlej Bridge. Bullock-carts piled high with pitiful chattels, cattle being driven alongside. Women with babies in their arms and wretched little tin trunks on their heads. Twenty thousand men, women and children trekking into the promised land - not because it is the promised land, but because bands of Hindus and Sikhs in Faridkot State and the interior of Ferozepur district had hacked hundreds of Muslims to death and made life impossible for the rest.

(Laboriously typed out from a masterpiece: India after Gandhi, by Ramachandra Guha)

India had seen pain, but not learnt its lesson. To this day, our politicians are doing a clinical task of dividing the country and ruling. The media, the shining economy, and the sheer community strength of the people stick to their job of keeping the country together. I do not believe any group of people could be more divided, yet so together in every way.

As India finishes sixty years and moves on towards a glorious future, Gandhi's dream of having a woman walk without fear in the streets at night is still not realized. Millions are still dying out of hunger. Last week's floods in Bihar left 1.25 crore people homeless. United Nations has called it the worst humanitarian crisis in recent times. Yet, the country marches on, for better or for worse.

Happy Independence day, dear India.

Chak de!

When a media-person caught up recently with Shahrukh Khan, he asked him why he did not write a blog. The King just shrugged and said, "I don't know. I guess I have some real work to do!" This took me by surprise, because I can often not imagine something more engaging than blogging. It seems like my contribution to world peace, my creative outlet, and my notepad of juices that cannot flow out with real people. So I wondered what Shahrukh Khan could really be up to, if he was so busy!

I knew I had to watch Chak de India on the first weekend. I have always noticed that if I missed a SRK movie in the first weekend, it would go on to be a commercial failure. Now Chak de was an effort towards promoting sports in India, and I could not let this movie bomb. So, with a mix of curiousity and patriotism, I walked into Chak de India.

As the first ten minutes of the movie flashed across, I realised what had kept SRK so busy. He had a new look, a stubble, a heavily worked out frame, and as always, his eyes were telling the story. These eyes had been worked on, over weeks and weeks of conditioning, to ensure that he was looking the part. His gait had the mark of confidence, though lined with the rays of determination. This was going to be Shah Rukh Khan's finest ever performance. I was not mistaken.

SRK plays the role of Kabir Khan, an ex-India Hockey player who has been disgraced on match-fixing charges. He comes back in to coach a set of women hockey players, with a mission to convert them into a set of world-beating champions. The team consists of dollops of stereotypes about the different states in India, significant amounts of pettiness, and some traces of jealousy and lust even. He starts off in a unique brand of leadership, by enforcing his authority on his team. As expected, they revolt. They soon understand that he is working for their good, and everyone falls in line... well, almost everyone. There is nothing new to expect from Chak de, from the perspective of a story. What is very impressive about the movie, however, is the screenplay and dialogue delivery. Every detail has been addressed, scenes progress pacily leaving no-one bored, and every predictable turn is laced with an interesting subtle twist. The conductor of this opera is Shahrukh Khan, but each of the hockey-team members churn out a memorable performance. They look their part, act their part, and do nothing wrong. The Director keeps everyone making an impact, without staying on too long to keep with the details.

One of the most important aspects of a sports movie is an attempt to keep the imagination grounded. It is sometimes very easy to get carried away and project the impossible. Some scenes of Chak de move from implausible to downright silly. The shot where the hockey team starts battling a group of eve-teasers with sticks and plates could have been done differently and more efficiently. Also, another challenge in sports movies is to keep inter-personal fueds going, and unravel them at timely intervals to add to the story. The Director plays these cards very efficiently.

All in all, a good experience. As Indians, I guess we must admit that we love our movies to come in with melodrama. That is why I was not surprised when the audience gave a standing ovation when our hockey team wins the world championship. But in hindsight, I would have liked it if the movie had been more realistic. If a great coach and 3 months of practice could make a bunch of women into champions, it does speak poorly of the talent in other parts of this world. Maybe the lifespan of the movie could have been two - three years. Maybe they could have won the silver, but cornered all the glory for fair play.

Of course, despite all these, I would give the movie a 4 on 5, for some great moments, taut screenplay, and a great shot at inventing a genre of movies in India.

The new Indian kids

I'm in a dark movie theater, and this young kid is sitting beside me. He is wearing shorts, has no facial hair, and does not look a day over 12. Its a night show, and this kid is in with two slightly older people. If I was newer to Gurgaon, I would think they were his brother and sister. Now I would guess its his "rich-due-to-real-estate dad" and his "i-love-my-sexy-figure" mom.

In a particularly intense moment, his phone starts glowing, and lights up the near vicinity. He pulls it out. Its a Nokia N series phone, absolutely top of the line. He reads out a text message to himself and smiles. My curiousity gets the better of me. I peep. This is what the message, on a 12 year old kid with a N series phone, says:

"I love you too baby. I wish I was with you now..."

Is this the new Indian generation of Indian children?

The community doctor

I was sitting in a large group of over 20 close friends earlier today. One of us had a severe toothache. Many of us realised it only when he refused to eat food because the pain was too great.

Immediately, some of us started talking about how the pain could get better. One of us knew a tablet. Another knew of a gel that would help. A third took one look at the tooth and told him that he had had the exact same condition, and it could be cured by extraction.

In fifteen minutes, this guy knew exactly what was wrong with his tooth. But it set me thinking: Doctoring has been a very specialized profession, much like an encyclopaedia. But then, by using a larger group of common users who were experts in a few areas, Wikipedia could come up with a model that was as efficient, yet infinitely more exhaustive than Britannica. Now here's the thought: Would it be possible to evolve a model like this for community doctor-ing? Could every disease, every condition, every health defect, be listed out on the internet, hence evolving the world's greatest doctor?

She lay on the bed...

...wrapped in white, half covered in sheets. Her body was half revealed, and looked like it had been made to be loved by me.

I walked up to her, and turned her around. She looked at me lazily, and I could see myself in her eyes. I had loved her for years now, because everything about her was so unique, precious, and beautiful. She smiled at me, and her milky white skin shone in the morning light. I took her in my arms, caressing her tenderly, and knowing that she was now mine, for now, for ever.

She looked at peace, like the creator had thought out every inch of her design. She welcomed me with open arms, and I lost myself in her warm embrace. I knew I didn't want anything else in the world ever again: no money, no house, no doors, and definitely, no Windows.

My Macbook had arrived.