BEAR WITH ME

India is set to host International Bear Conference.

This piece of news brought a smile to my face. You've got to smile at this. Else you are not human. A Bear Conference? Yes a Bear Conference. Not a conference of bears mind you, but a Bear Conference. To my mind the difference is quite huge and significant too. It is not where bears get together to discuss how to survive the Humans or the Bulls. It is a conference where humans bullish on bears get together to discuss the latter's future. At least that's what it means to me.

A conference of bears would not surprise me though. They are said to be quite intelligent notwithstanding a proclivity to sleep most of the year off.  I used to know quite a few characters like that at the venerable IIT, Bombay. They all managed to ace their classes despite a pronounced tendency to sleep off most of the days in their dorms, just managing sufficient class attendance to avoid being struck off the rolls. They were very intelligent. It is a moot point if they were intelligent because they managed to get a lot of sleep or if they could afford to sleep a lot because they were intelligent. I thought at that time that their absence from classes significantly contributed to their developing into highly intelligent young people. I tried it (sleeping a lot) and it didn't work for me. In addition to sleeping a lot, they must have been drinking water from a source different  to the one I used.

News media also report that India is to set up a Bear Commission. Presumably the bears involved will be the four legged variety and not the two-legged ones, although a Commission for the two legged bears would not surprise me. In addition to being very smart this lot is also known to be quite influential in the financial circles. While the bulls grab all the limelight, it is the bears that make most money (think John Paulson during the latest financial crisis). I also understand that being a bear requires lot more intelligence, not to mention cojones,  whereas being a bull just requires is a lot of money. This exemplifies a fundamental human truth: it is easier to get people to believe so called good news than bad ones. The Bear Commission will hopefully not be a commission of bears (what would you call an omission of bears - Bare?) nor commission bears into doing bicycle-riding tricks. Given that it will be a Quango (quasi non-government organization), much "commission" is likely to be made in the name of bears.

Bear with me while I try to trace the future of bears, bear commissions and conferences. Bear experts will meet at a nice resort hotel in a very agreeable location at least a thousand miles from the nearest bear, talk about bears over a lot of rich food and lovely cocktails and then set a date and venue for the next International Bear Conference. In between, unattended by most delegates (who will mostly be flitting in and out of the conference hall to attend to cell phone calls), some die-hard bear aficionados will deliver lectures like "Bear and Development", "Dialectics of Bear development",  "Bear and Technology", " Socio-bio-economics of man-bear symbiotic coexistence" and stuff like that. In the concluding session the conference will dole out mementos like a wooden bear carving and a denim backpack with a pink Paddington Bear embroidered on it.

The Bear Commission will be headed by a retired IAS officer. In recognition of the gravity of the Bear Issues, he will carry the rank of Principal Secretary and draw concomitant pay and perks.  He will also undertake study tours to New York, Los Angeles, Tokyo, Shanghai, Seoul, Paris, London, Sydney and Kruger National Park to meet, study, and understand Bear issues first hand. A Parliamentary Committee consisting of MPs from across the political spectrum will visit Oslo, Stockholm, Copenhagen, Amsterdam, Hamburg, Berlin, and Paris to assess the impact of sex-trade on bears. MPs will get a special allowance of Rs.10 crores annually for bear necessities. Sonia Gandhi will announce a subsidy of  Rs100,000/- per bear per annum for 500 million bears resident in India. A special drive will be launched to identify the other 500 million bears which have so far eluded the bear census. Her son in law will become the honorary Chairman of International Polar Bear Standing Commission and in that capacity will be allotted 1000 acres in the centre of Delhi to set up a Polar Bear Permanent Exhibition. The allotment will carry the right to use the land for building  7-star Polar Bear Hotels. The Bear allowances, Bear subsidies and Bear Land will all be exempt from the prying eyes of the CAG - the constitution will be suitably amended.

Bear development takes time. Tigers were not saved in a day or, as they say, Ranthambore was not built in a day.
Until then we will continue to set fire to bears that stray into our living spaces.

KASAB'S HEAVENLY REWARDS

I am afraid a grave injustice is  about to be perpetrated; a contract declared void and a promise broken.

I refer to the hanging yesterday of the sole surviving Mumbai Terrorist. The facts are simple enough. Kasab was part of a Pakistani team sent to Mumbai to kill and maim as many as possible and create general mayhem and murder. They came, they saw, they killed and all but one got killed. Kasab survived, unfortunately for him and fortunately for the Human Rights Industry, left leaning loonies, bleeding heart liberals (among whom I count myself), Arundhati Roy (who is a whole category by herself) and Suhel Seth (who defies categorization). The now late Kasab will keep them in business for the next whole year. By then something will happen somewhere in India to provide more grist to their Human Rights mill. The Human Rights show must go on.

Back to the aforementioned Kasab. By not dying in action has he un-earned the promised rewards which include numerous virgins which were his for the taking ? Questions: is it necessary to die in action to merit the promised rewards? Is deferred death also acceptable?. Did he not fail in his quest for martyrdom by not dying in action? In this context I vividly recall a scene from the movie Patton, on the wartime exploits of the prickly American general George S. Patton. Apparently a brash and no-nonsense soldier, he averred that "no bastard ever won a war for his country by dying". Jihadists beg to differ with Patton in this respect and their philosophy makes  rewards in the next world conditional upon martyrdom in this. I am sure dying in action is an integral part of that offer, which Kasab failed to do - until yesterday, that is. If there is an appeals process in the Martyrs' Heaven, I would advise Kasab to argue that his death due to hanging was directly connected with and as a result of his jihadi action and thus he is entitled to the rewards as advertised. I might even agree to appear on his behalf provided I am assured of a ride back.

Kasab's death has been different things to different people, depending upon whether you were a direct / indirect victim, Human Rights Activist,  Loony Leftist, Bleeding Heart Liberal, Arundhati Roy, right thinking member of society or Suhel Seth. I have read articles questioning the constitutional propriety of hanging him. There was even one questioning the legality of turning down his appeal. Another one suggested that he was not made aware of his rights for further appeal and therefore the hanging was unlawful. I am sure that most of those raising these questions were cowering in front of their TVs with their doors triple locked  and window blinds down as the events of 26/11 were being aired live.

Perhaps for them facts like the photographic evidence of Kasab strutting in VT station with his submachine gun, tens of dead bodies and the manner of his own capture in a shoot out are mere details and somewhat irrelevant; perhaps they also think that by sending the victims to heaven (or in some cases hell, but Kasab didn't know who deserved which) Kasab was giving them a shot at heavenly goodies. These Constitutional Proprietists and armchair legal eagles think that trials and appeals over four years and 60 crores of protective custody aren't sufficient. May be they would have preferred a live demo by Kasab with live victims with running commentary by ISI Chief and a written confession endorsed by the Taliban supremo.

I am not overly concerned by the consequences of the hanging, notwithstanding Taliban threats, clamour for hanging Sarabjit or that Imran Khan would lead an invasion of India.

I would of course be very disappointed if  Kasab is denied, on technical grounds, his promised rewards in the next world, especially the virgins.

MANGOES AND BANANAS

I do NOT mean Man goes Bananas, although that would be an apt description of  the recent exhortations of Indian Finance Minister Mr. Chidambaram that inspired this post. I shall not get into the merits of Mr. Chidambaram's economic wisdom here. This is just about mangoes and bananas as fruits, of which the First Son-in-Law seems to display a considerable knowledge, not to mention much astuteness about  what it all means.

There are many fruity comparisons and analogies in the English language of which Oranges and Apples is a favourite amongst Management Gurus and practitioners. The fashion page writers prefer Peaches and Cream to describe the complexion of their favourite page 3 set. Wodehouse preferred a "Fruit cake" to describe many of his creations. Our own Man in Black, politico-business guru, all-round business maestro and First Son-in-Law (outlaw is more like it) prefers Mangoes and Bananas. What is good for the first family is good enough for me - I know which side of my bread is orange marmaladed / mixed fruit jammed / fruit-preserved / jellied.

Mango is the common Indian fruit much beloved of all Indians from the steamy South to the Himalayan North and from the jungles of the East to the deserts of the West. Each region has its own unique and preferred variety, be it the exalted Alphonso (where did that come from? The name is not Indian), the humble Langda (what sort of name is "lame" for a fruit? There is no accounting for these northerners' tastes. We in the South call our mango "blue" because it has bluish-green tinge before it ripens) or the whole lot in between. More than even languages which tell one Indian region from another, I dare say it is the mango variety that signifies the uniqueness of each region; its soil, climate, people,  monsoon patterns and seasons. So much so it is used to designate the Ordinary folk in Hindi : Aam Aadmi. I apologise for the sexist usage of the male gender by the Northerners despite not being a Northerner and not sharing the sexist ways of those people. In Tamil Nadu we have our own brand of sexism but we do not insult our much-loved Neelam Mango variety by naming it after our men.

The First Son-in-Law's reference to "Mango People" is spot on: the mango is a lowly fruit, vulgar in the sense of being too common, notwithstanding the hideously expensive Alphonso variety. The latter phenomenon I rather suspect is due to the rich and the famous wanting to set themselves apart by buying something so common at a price so few could afford. The mango tree is also not treated with a lot of respect. We decorate our front doors with a garland of mango leaves on auspicious or festive occasions. Otherwise the plant gets a rough treatment.

Really rough. Years ago when our much-pampered mango tree failed to yield any fruits we were advised to give it a sound thrashing with an old footwear and crucify it, Christ-like, with nails. I was happy to oblige and drive a few rusty nails into its trunk in with an old shoe. Believe it or not, next spring it burst forth into a profusion of  white blooms and early summer we had a plentiful crop of fruits. It wasn't exactly Alphonso to taste, but it wasn't too far behind. The following season the fruits were fewer and then the next summer there were even fewer until there were none at all by the fourth summer. Back to square one. We had stopped beating it after that first time - we thought it deserved better and did not need any further "shaming". How wrong we were.

The trick  to keep mangoes coming is to constantly shame them, beat them up with chappals, drive nails into them, and generally treat them like something you wouldn't step on. First son-in-law understands this which is probably why he refers to ordinary Indians as "mango people". Which is also probably why his in-laws have been running this country for over six decades.

Bananas, which come in various shapes colours and sizes, are never beaten. We respect them enough to eat off their leaves on festive occasions, their dried outer skins can be fashioned into wrapper for food and even disposable receptacles. Fully-grown banana plants are a symbol of welcome at venues celebrating important occasions. Their flowers are a special delicacy and their stems are credited with special cleansing powers. A Tamil adage has it that the humble banana stems are eaten by a dieting elephants. This last piece of wisdom is highly questionable (do elephants have self-awareness? do they know when they are overweight? do they even care if they did? do they want to do something about it? etc etc)  although elephants are known to ravage banana plantations for their succulent stems.

Leaving the botanical aspects of mangoes and bananas aside, what exactly did the First Son-in-Law mean when he referred to mango people and a banana republic? I believe he was drawing upon his deep knowledge of plants and fruits to tell us something really valuable. Mangoes give pleasure to humans and animals and in return the latter  disperse their seeds. Mango trees also cry out to be beaten and shamed now and then. A banana plant on the other hand needs gentle treatment and requires just the right conditions to grow and flourish. A banana plant doesn't depend on being useful to others in order to spread. A baby banana plant grows from its mother's roots, right under the protective umbrella provided by its parent; it matters not if its fruits are edible.

A banana plant is like a ruling  dynasty, you might say.

PUPPET ON A STRING

"A Puppet's Life Ends" screamed the Times of India headlines this morning.
I was too bleary eyed and sleep deprived from watching a late-night movie (or two) on the telly to grasp the import of this headline. It took a while for the headline to register as I prepared myself to face the new day.

Upon reflection I must shamefully admit having felt somewhat elated by this news. At the time I wasn't sure if I was still dreaming. You know how it goes - you are living the wonderful life and suddenly wake up to find it was only a dream.  That happens to me quite a lot. Here I am dreaming of the good life and suddenly the music of the neighbour's car being reversed out of their gate rudely brings me to reality. On the subject of reversing alarms, who indeed thought up those hideous pieces of noise?

We in Chennai are especially addicted to loud and hideous noises - dual-tone car horns, the sound of the political bigwigs making a speech in Tamil which no one is meant to understand and no one indeed does; movie heroes romancing their heroines (who all uniformly sound like pre-pubescent girls - is there a story in there somewhere?); radio adverts which sound vaguely like a pitch and more like an admonishment of some sort; street vendors selling weird and wonderful goods and long-forgotten services (think re-fluffing your flattened pillows and mattresses); drunk husbands (in Chennai it is the sacred  husbandly duty to be perpetually drunk) threatening their wives;  their wives, usually domestics, fighting with one another and so on. Now all of this communication is carried out at the highest possible decibel level and in a gruff voice which the locals seem to find very authoritative, romantic, persuasive, seductive, powerful and leader-like, all at the same time. There is nothing we would do quietly if we could do it loudly.

Cars being started up and revved, cars reversing out of their gated nigh-time security out into the narrow street for the morning, the stiff bristles of the street sweeper ladies scraping whatever is left of the asphalt on the street, the vegetable vendors announcing their wares in a sing-song fashion, and the cuckoo that is forever looking for a mate - so far unsuccessfully, I might add - are the sounds that rudely jolt me out of my pleasant reveries and let the harsh reality impose itself upon my consciousness most mornings. With the month of "margazhi" nearing it will only get worse for that month requires hordes of devotees to take out  processions singing certain vaishnavite devotional poetry long  before sunrise (and all too soon after I retire for the night). Admittedly religious fervour, especially the vaishnavite variety, is somewhat lacking in my neighbourhood but even the one that is manifest  is too loud and too early to facilitate a good night's rest for yours truly.

You can now understand why I am a poor starter in the mornings and why the newspaper headline failed to make an impression on me this morning.
When it did, I was wide awake. There was a feeling of (almost) elation. What could be better than learning that finally The Puppet is dead? I suspect we all resent being puppets in one way or another. Equally sure that we hate being manipulated by parents, bosses, friends, rivals, marketers, political leaders and our governments. A puppet symbolises the ultimate powerlessness: in and of itself it is inert but in expert hands and pulled by the right strings, it jumps to life and can be as good as real life itself. It is the ultimate action by proxy. Not surprisingly, puppet shows are very popular the world over. The English have their Punch and Judy shows, the Balinese have their Ramayana shadow puppet shows, and we have a show called the UPA.

A Puppet's Life Ends, screamed the headline.
When I started reading the story, my elation was short lived.

It was Kasab who was dead.

WE ARE (EN)TITLED

In a previous post I had touched upon the current Chennai fad and the general Tamilian predilection for grandiose titles. The titles range from the gentle "Artist" ( conferred on a far from gentle man) to a warrior-like "Commander in Chief"  (couldn't be more inappropriate for he has trouble marshalling his own troops) and include "green gold" (duh!!), "Mother", "Golden star", "Maiden" (this for a woman over sixty who is widely believed to have lost that status decades ago on a casting couch; on current form she is very likely to remain one), and "Revolutionary Leader". The list is only indicative of this titled madness and not exhaustive. Titles have been getting ever more wild, grandiose, most of the time thoroughly  undeserved and all the time totally unfounded. The basic premise underlying this trend is the (Goebbels-like) belief that Truth is in the repetition of claims. Popular acceptance,adulation, adoption and even imitation more than validates this premise.

Are we then just a bunch of people with fancy titles (albeit self-assumed)?  Far from it. We are entitled, not just titled, people. May not be empowered people, but we certainly are entitled.

Mr.Kamaraj (who was bested and consigned to political oblivion by a woman he reportedly dismissed as a "chit of a girl"), the grand old man of Congress Party, conferred entitlement to a college degree on every child born in the state of Madras. They say it had everything to do with his own lack of a higher education and with winning elections. He is widely held to be the father of entitlement, at least in this state. The grandfather of entitlements was a grandee of the Dravidian movement who, when asked if sacrificing "efficiency" at the altar of "entitlement" will not be bad for governance, reportedly said that a government was like a bus: while it helped to have all four wheels of the same size, wheels of differing sizes would not stop it altogether. Thus entitlements have a long and distinguished history in this state.

There are various types of entitlements:

1. We are entitled to titles.
Weird and wonderful ones. Sonorous ones. Fancy ones. Wild ones even. Most of these titles are the result of abject sycophancy and an overdose of  hallucinogens. Not to forget a total absence of factual basis. We can and do assume titles implying valour, high academic achievements, cultural sensitivity and achievements, artistry, personal traits like generosity, and social position and status. So much so we were the first to bring back the titles that were abolished by Indira Gandhi in the 1960's when we restored a title to a family which had lost control of its fiefdom over 300 years ago. Thereafter the rest of the country lost no time in dusting off their own Maharajas,  Maharanas,  Maharaos and Maha-what-have-you, not to mention Nawabs and Zamindars. Bengalis had long ago cleverly incorporated titles signifying territory ownership into their last names (as in Talukdar, for example) and thus did not have to resort to such repossession.

2. We are entitled to free Utilities.
We are entitled to free water and electricity. Never mind that the supply thereof  is of very poor quality. Never mind that we then divert the supply - illegally, I may add - to business establishments which are unable to establish their entitlement to obtain these. We watch TVs, which we are entitled to for free, plugged into free power connections we are entitled to while frying fish (alas, not free so far) on the free gas stove (which we are entitled to) running on LPG gas (entitlement). The government has commenced its own TV channel which in course of time will surely be made free of subscription fee.

3. We are entitled to college places and college degrees.
Never mind our academic bent or the lack thereof, we are entitled to a place in a college; as also a college degree. Talk of academic accomplishments is simply upper class mischief.

4. We are entitled to flout the law.
Laws, rules and regulations are just a lot of baloney. They are meant for the fearful who run scared of their own shadows. Laws are meant to oil the wheels of the society and make social living easier. We do that our way - so long as you live by our rules, everything is hunky-dory and there will be no social friction. This applies to traffic rules, land titles, just about anything you can think of. If you are Salman Khan you are entitled to run over mango people living on half a banana a day;  if you are a poor NRI  hairdresser you will do jail time; a RI (Resident Indian) is only entitled to RI (rigorous imprisonment). Notable non-mango people are entitled to inherit this great but troubled land in addition to being exempt from security checks at airports.

5.We are entitled not to observe social niceties.
So we belch loudly and as often as possible at restaurants and public places. We jostle, we jump queues, we rub up against others in public places, and we are entitled to share our thoughts as loudly as our vocal chords would permit.

6. We are entitled to re-invent history as often and as fancifully as we wish and generally we do. Even if we don't invent anything (except History which we invent all the time) it does not matter - we are entitled to them anyway.

7. We are entitled to take 30 days a year off from work in addition to 52 Sundays and half of each Saturday. This is on top of 20 or so "festivals" and one day a month for no reason at all. In addition, on the days we "work", we are entitled to arrive late, leave early and take long lunch and shopping breaks. We are also entitled to take time off to take children to school, parents to hospital, obtain a new gas connection or terminate an old phone connection. In Chennai we have the unique entitlement to take an hour off on Amavasya days to pay perform poojas for our dear departed. Media intellectuals crib about this enormous waste of working hours but the smart ones know that the economy only grows when we are busy goofing off.

Above all we are entitled to think life is good.