Conversation declassified

Conversation declassified

Are you there? Just asking, for I believe you are always present in my life. Every day when I sit in the drawing room glued to the national news I cannot help steal a glance in your direction, your huge photo hanging dominantly on the wall opposite my sitting area.

You know dad, there is something refreshing in the way you look at me from behind the bounded glass of a frame. I somehow get the feeling that I just need to reach out and touch you to feel you, to sink my head into your solid embrace. I don’t know why I get this feeling but as the days go by though they say memory fades, I am experiencing the opposite. You seem to be growing larger than life with every passing day.

Anyways, how’s life dad? Hope you are keeping yourself busy even as you await your brood in heaven. You know dad the elder President Bush just passed away very recently and I chanced upon a cartoon that was drawn as an obituary to the great man. The cartoon shows Senior Bush, landing in Heaven in his plane and being greeted by his wife Barbara and their daughter Robin who was 3 years old when she died in 1953.

I can see the joy on the faces of Senior Bush, his wife and daughter when they were united at the gates. The cartoon really touched me somewhere and got me thinking dad- You know dad I am not very much of a religious kind but this place called heaven really appeals to me now. I am hoping to meet you when I get up there, because I keep hearing stories of people looking forward to a life after death. Now nobody has ever gone up there and come back to tell me stories of yonder but as they say ‘no news is good news’.

The ancient Egyptians took along a huge entourage of material/supplies to help them in the afterlife, but I guess we will just have fun roaming around in the garden of happiness and when I can listen to your stories of the time when I was not born. Together we can hope to receive other folks who are dear to us. It also gives me a feeling of hope, because I am feeling reassured that we will all be one big happy family even after having passed on in this life.

Now I fear death no more since I see an opportunity for a change- a change from the ritualistic routine of life. Mom isn’t keeping well after you departed. In fact she seems to be in a hurry to join you up there. I don’t blame her I can understand.

It’s been two full years since you are gone, and I keep thinking of the time when you called for me and I did not come citing routine commitments. Then you got angry with me and left me without a hint. I rushed to see you and the memory keeps coming back, the opportunity lost even when warm blood was running within you, as I clung onto your still, lifeless and cold body.

No point brooding over missed opportunities, one has to take them as and when they come, because otherwise one may regret like me. Well we are going to put up a remembrance post in the newspaper on your 2^nd death anniversary – I wonder for whom.  Anybody, who cares about you should not be reminded, and if they must then they are better off forgetful.

They say do not count the number of people who fill the church when the gong goes for the funeral, but count them painstakingly at the burial ground, for that is the true measure of the feelings for the departed soul.

That’s all for the time being dad, will keep you posted.

Hanging up dad- Goodbye and so long

21^st December 2018

From Ground Zero

From Ground Zero

It came crashing down, relentless, unwavering in intent, the earth’s bowls filled up and more spilling onto adjoining streams, rivulets, rivers, finally encroaching embankments to rush into the drawing rooms of unsuspecting folks making them refugees in the places where they had hung out their egos just the other day to dry, all within viewing distance of neighbours and towns folk.

Streets that crisscrossed the rural landscape with its smoothness the pride of road users lay in tatters, spoilt by the brutal force that accompanied the floods. The electricity relay posts that provided succor to travellers and pedestrians alike during moonless nights lay toppled, wires mangled and in ruins.

The streets a gross reminder of the havoc that the menacing waters had endowed on this sleepy rural landscape. Walls that were lined up parallel to the never ending roads lay eroded by the water that had swirled around it for a good amount of time. The erosion seemed akin to rodents nibbling away at a piece of bread that was not to their liking.

Bamboo and other pieces of wood lay abandoned on the streets a reminder of the human effort that went in to assuage the feelings of the marooned. Some found in them a bounty waiting to be taken home to be used at home or to light the fire. The plantain tree stumps that were readily cut and tied into a makeshift raft the only ones left untouched.

Gigantic church structures that were built on reputations and egos but scantly used in proportion turned into camps to house the temporarily displaced. Eager men and women hung out on its verandah looking at the receding waters as a runner awaiting the starting gun.  Children lazed around oblivious of the turmoil around them thanking their stars at this unscheduled picnic.

Supermarkets and grocery shops vandalized systematically of its goods by the queue of people fearing shortage in the immediate days ahead. Petrol pumps with their overworked staff and near rioting crowds tugging their unending line of vehicles, adding to the uncertainty of the morrow. Some refusing to go away even after an ‘out of stock’ board is displayed.

The uncertainty propels the calm and analytical beings into action stocking up for the rough ahead with rations and supplies that would make life easy after the enduring pain of the past few days. The rescue workers and civic workers being the only exception with their sights on the job at hand.

While transformers and electric lines and poles lost the battle with nature’s forces, few remember that electricity has been disrupted during this period. There are so many woes to count that the relative comfort of living with uninterrupted electricity flow doesn’t seem worrisome even though direct fallout would be absence of television entertainment at home. But when it is restored a loud cheer goes up simultaneously from all corners as if the national team has just hit the winning runs.

The mobile towers stand stoic and stonily in the face of various assaults of nature and remain the last man standing in this battle of wits. However even though the poles remain strong and unwavering, the connectivity has gone missing. With fading battery backup, people resorted to turning on the generator sets in religious places to charge their mobiles.

On days when the absence of telephone connectivity and electricity crushes ones ego we now take solace in the days of yore when there was no telephone, entertainment through television and no electricity.

Streams of people gather at the ‘water front’ and stare at the makeshift boats making their errands on the streets that ferried fast flowing traffic till the other day. Some keep making their way to various places where the flood had reached and stare at the retreating water as if looking at a marauding alligator that now lies lifeless.

Once back home they must convey their reporting of the events and news to their neighbours who did not have the tenacity to make this waterfront visit. These local news reporters and story tellers fill up for their immobility relaying their sightings to the folks hungry for information. In the absence of national news these local neighbours doubling up as reporters fill the void.

Relatives outside the action zone lucky enough to get in an odd phone call convey the national news to folk back home making up for the lack of their entertainment and news. Messages on social media splash names of officials in action should some deserving soul need them. A national calamity also makes for one-upmanship with social organizations and churches diving deep into lending a helping hand.

They are still counting the dead, whereas the countless maimed will live with it throughout their lives. For the others this will be a once in a lifetime experience worthy to be narrated to their grandchildren when the time comes. In a few days the past glory will be restored and life will go on as of yesterday, pushing this event into the annals of history.

Till the other day we all lived with our head held high and our chests puffed with pride, but it took the fury of nature to set at rest our disputes and humble us in our routine for survival- or did it?

18^th August 2018

Boys will be Boys

Boys will be boys

That’s what we say when they conjure their famous pranks albeit harmless to sometimes make us smile beneath the anger that adorns our face. Many a time, they set out on dangerous errands not fully understanding the perils that it entails. Mainly it is because they are unable to fathom the distance, the perils like an adult and are innocently trying to be bigger than their size.

Most of the time they get away with it and even while we had fretted and agonizingly waited for the safety of the boys, when the deed is done and calm prevails, when the bugle is sounded for the end of the game, we sit back and allow a small smile of love, of affection to cross our faces, though we may be fuming from within.

Now imagine the plight of the twelve boys of the soccer team along with their coach who had merely gone trekking into a deep and treacherous cave to have some fun, to breast the tape before the others in the gang, or be able to pull each other’s legs after the deed was done to be able to portray oneself as the bold and heroic in the lot.

That is what boys are made of; they will always be pranksters, one step farther from their minders. The winding cave path was not new to them they have been there before though in shorter stints never going for the finish line, however this time they chose to make a dash for it almost as if it was a lemon break during their game.

That is what keeps then united and bundled together on a safe ledge while they were suddenly struck by flood waters, that made their return impossible. For nine days they stayed in that dark corner not knowing day from night, having lost track of the days of the week, but what won the day was their innocence, their pure hearts for even while being at their wits end, while not knowing what would befall them next, they had not forgotten their manners their upbringing.

When the experts found them they sweetly introduced themselves as if they had been stuck on the ledge only for a few hours, and were now expecting to be ferried out in minutes their discipline not standing in the way of their rescue. That’s what marks them as boys for boys will be boys, even after committing an almost fatal mistake their faces knew no terror, they were not apologetic, just a little weary having gone without food and water for nine days.

Even as I write this piece the rescuers who are the best in the world have gone in to fetch them the first three boys are already out and very soon the rest of them will be.  Only then can the scars be counted, the bruises managed, what will stay longer is the scars to the soul, the psyche of the boys, who are too young and which could lead to some embedded psychological issues in later life.

Will this stop others from dangling from tree tops, jumping from the edge, balancing on the dangerously jutting ledge, swimming against the tide, climbing heights without measuring the altitude, diving without knowing the impact on their tender bones, fearlessly riding their make shift machines at great speed, innocently challenging adult playfields, recklessly lifting the bar on their limits, making a dash for the mere fun of it?

I dare say No, for otherwise they would stop beings boys, and boys will always be boys. We will continue to hear stories of valor gone hopelessly wrong, of rescuers having to sacrifice themselves to extract innocent souls, of boys staring at you when caught with their hand in the till.

Robin Varghese

8^th July 2018

NB: This article bears reference to the football team and their coach stuck in the caves in Chiang Rai, Thailand and the unending stream of experts trying to extricate them amidst the dangers to their own self.

Stop to stoop

Stop to stoop

A village bred boy had dreams in his eyes and often saw himself climbing the corporate ladder of success. Bright as he was in studies, he finally graduated from a good college and got himself professionally updated with the changing demands in the corporate world. Though he was from a humble background, he had the zeal and caliber to reach academic heights.

Through such brilliance he got a well paying job and suddenly found himself in the thick of corporate maze. Therefore, brilliant that he was he successfully negotiated this maze and earned a fame and reputation for himself. As his position and fame rose so did his income and finally he was placed as the chief operating office in his company. Now he was at the pinnacle of his dreams and fantasies.

It was his childhood ambition to be able to prosper and have the good things in life. Since his income had risen manifold and he was able to buy the best in any kind of purchase. The humble boy with his humble background had promised himself a Rolls Royce if he ever found himself worthy of this car.

Now with his elevation he thought he had achieved the final frontiers of his ambition so to go along with this he went to the nearest car dealer and talked into buying a Rolls Royce. Having paid for the car he smartly drove this lovely bird onto the streets and was flowing with his emotions at high speed.

Oh! How he loved the sight of the car, the metallic colours, the sleek interiors, the robust body and an engine to boot. How he felt as if he was flying above the ground. How he fancied that he was driving over a street strewn with cheese. Not a bump anywhere and the smoothness reminded him of his cheeks after his morning shave.

As he flew through the countryside lost in his thoughts and having achieved his dream, he suddenly heard a loud thud somewhere at the rear of his car. He instantly applied the brakes and reversed the car to investigate the source of the thud. As he reached the source he saw a small boy standing over an upturned wheelchair with his paralyzed elder brother who had fallen off, the stone in his little hands evidently speaking of his crime.

He glanced to the rear of this car and found a dent that obviously came from the stone in the child’s hand. He ran over to the little boy picked him up and shook him violently demanding why he did what he did and spoiled the enthusiasm in him. The little boy answered that his brother had fallen off his perch and was too big for him to get him back on the chair. He tried to stop many passing cars by waving at them but none cared to stop. At last in desperation he adopted this new method where he threw the stone to force someone to help him out. All he wanted was to have his brother back on his wheel chair.

Our young man stopped and thought for a moment, threw his anger lifted the little boys brother and put him back in the chair and walked slowly back to his dented new car. On the drive home he wondered why this happened to him.  Was he driving too fast on the highway of life, had he overshot his speed limits, was he being waved down by the traffic cops, was this gods way of saying “son slow down”?

When we enter the fast lane of life we forget to see things that are grounded and rooted to the soil, the difficulties of millions, the toil of the suffering, the woes of the marginalized, the hopes and aspirations of the under privileged. Never travel too far away where the past seems like a mere speck on the horizon.

This is natures, and in that sense God’s way of stopping us in our fast paced track to help us realize our limitations, to look into the lives of the unfortunate majority, to dispense with our magnitude In favour of the distressed and bring succor through our acts of empathy and sympathy, through words of solace and acts of gratification.

Every time we are pegged back on our path of learning, striving for our daily bread, do not panic because that is god’s way of asking you to slow down. The creator taking care of his creation, therefore fret not, neither curse through clenched teeth for he loves you and harbors no ill will towards you. All he is doing is asking you to sometimes stoop so that you may see the lowly.

Robin Varghese

10^th July 2018

Straps of prosperity

Straps of prosperity

National indicators show that Kerala is one of the leading prosperous states. The benchmark for evaluation of prosperity and equitability nationally, is a comparison of the average standard of living and equitability. Kerala is thus placed in the high average standard of living index with less disparity amongst households according to the analytical firm CRISIL.

A drive along the country side and everywhere surfaces houses built in western tradition with sometimes a touch of local flavour. Households compete with each other to outspend the other as far as building costs is concerned. Outsiders who visit the state for the first time are taken in by these lavish sights and colourful parade of houses lining the streets even in the hinterland.

Beggary of the normal kind is almost considered a taboo and most of the sparse population of beggars is from outside the state. However there is another sophisticated trend of beggary doing the rounds in Kerala especially in the rural and semi urban areas. This involves a touch of nostalgia, lies, deceit and misrepresentation bordering on falsehood mixed with emotions and religious blackmail.

Every morning till mid afternoon one can see a steady stream of these sophisticated beggars trooping down the lanes of shining houses amidst a splash of conspicuous consumption. They carry the religious texts, discharge and treatment slips from reputed hospitals and various other materials with which they start their quest for their daily bread.

The one with the holy text under his arm pit will open his sales pitch with a prayer. Now any family with even an iota of cultured faith and religious fermentation will not have the stomach to ask the gentleman to stop. Taking this cue, the man will go on to offer his unwanted blessings and stand firm after the sales pitch ends.

By the end of this the lady or the habitants of this household is reminded of the religious lessons of early childhood and the text where he/she grew up with the words ‘when I was hungry you fed me, when naked you clothed me….” And fearing the wrath of the same God he accedes lest he and his family suffer as a consequence.

The sophisticated beggar moves on to the next house and displays the same passion with his skills. This is an occupation that they choose and excel at, and herein lays their daily pay check.

Another of their kind will appear from thin air and thrust his yellowing and worm out papers/appeals/certificates from respected hospitals to prove his sales pitch. He will try to gain your trust by asking for a token amount to rid him or his ailing family member from the curse of the dreaded disease called cancer. Sometimes one wonders how he will manage to collect the required funds in this manner in small doses bit by bit, meandering between rows of houses and crisscrossing the vast tracts of land, when the amount required is so huge?

But the emotional pitch underpins your emotions and you contribute thanking God that you are free from this dreaded disease and patting yourself for contributing a single brick to say the least towards this man’s efforts to build up his corpus of funds before the threat extinguishes the being. After all they say “a good deed a day keeps the doctor away”. This you are sure passes the test of a good deed and through this you hope the doctor can be kept away for a longer time.

Some of them will appear on your door step ring your doorbell and greet you warmly as your peep out in a manner that tells you that you were once chums. You may have a perplexed look on your face not knowing who this assuming gentleman is, but his sales pitch is one of ‘for old time sake’. He reminds you forcefully and at times reassuringly about his association with your family and how he has since fallen on bad days and needs a leg up from your side.

After all, isn’t that what acquaintances, pals and known people are for to help the other when he falls on bad times. You hurriedly try to train your mind to recollect your association with him, but he will make a mockery of your trail of thoughts while assuring you that you and your family have been regularly contributing to his cause and the last time was just a year or a few months back.

Through this he wants to prove that he is not a habitual offender but maintains a discreet respectability about his method of begging.

Well, at the end of it all you give up, since you are blackmailed, emotionally drained and reminded of the purpose of your existence. The best you can do, to fight these dancing devils in your mind, is to quietly pay up and feel happy that you have been able to discharge your worldly obligations at a low maintenance cost while thanking the almighty for having kept you and your loved ones outside this loop of troubled existence.

Robin Varghese

29^th June 2018

Caught between a rock and a hard place

Caught between a rock and a hard place

This is exactly the predicament that the Congress party faces in Delhi. It cannot back Chief Minister Mr. Kejriwal since he was the original mover of the Lokpal protest that rocked the Congress boat; neither can it back the Bharatiya Janata Party since they are their principal opponents going into an election year.

However given the above choices, what the Congress strongmen in the states are doing is putting the party two steps back in its forward march to a united opposition against the ruling party in 2019. The Delhi Unit chief Mr. Ajay Maken says that the Congress can never support the AAP since it was Kejriwal along with moralistically political evangelist Anna Hazare, Baba Ramdev, RSS and other opponents who started the tirade against congress in the first place.

They point out that Kejriwal did not hesitate to take the support of the RSS during those times, an organization and its political wing that he is fighting against now having pitched tent in the lieutenant Governor’s office premises. Similarly the BJP is a principal opponent of the entire opposition that its hopes to uproot in the forthcoming elections with the support of the united opposition in the country.

Therein lays the problems of the congressmen. They have such egoistically bloated and hardened regional leaders that they either uproot the ambitions of their own party men as in Kerala, or stupidly move against the very opposition that they are trying to unite against the ruling dispensation.

On the other hand Mr. Kejriwal is a cunning fox and knows when to strike. When he started off around three and a half years ago he was a confrontationist confronting the central government and blaming them for everything that was wrong with administration in Delhi. His rant for full statehood was choreographed to suit his image of an agitationist. Then the last couple of years he embarked on a reformist agenda knowing full well that the opposition would ask uneasy questions of him on governance during election time.

Now that the elections are nearing he is playing a very smart game by going into his shell and agitating for the people of Delhi. This will help him hog the limelight and project him as a leader who doesn’t care for the high and mighty and only cares about the ordinary citizen (the aam admi). It will also give him an alibi for the promises that remained unfulfilled in the election manifesto.

By sitting-in at the Lieutenant General’s office he has surprised the wiliest foxes in the ruling party and projected the Lieutenant Governor and the Centre as cohorts in arms and cut off the Congress party from the debate by forcing them to choose between a rock and a hard place. The Congress very foolishly has chosen to take a stand against him without being seeing as assisting the centre. Thus they are trying to project Mr. Kejriwal being unworthy of support given his past explained above even though they are against the central dispensation.

Honestly this is not carrying much weight and they are actually cutting a very sorry figure. The BJP on the other hand have been forced to show their hand and have been ‘caught with their pants down’ openly agitating on the side of the Lieutenant Governor and the IAS officers who are not cooperating and staying away from meetings being called by the ministers. They have gone as far enough to occupy the Chief Ministers office for a counter protest. By doing this they have openly taken sides and walked into the trap set up by Mr. Kejriwal. Now they have no pretentions about backing the Lieutenant Governor or the bureaucracy having been forced into the open by this clever move from the Aam Admi Camp.

The swords have been drawn between the AAP and the BJP while the Congress party in Delhi seems to be brandishing its sword at an imaginary enemy cutting anyone who comes within range of its sword. In this game of thrones what is interesting is the way Mr. Kejriwal has outwitted the brazen BJP and its national icon Mr. Narendra Modi and his supposedly able lieutenant Mr. Amit Shah as also their parent organization the RSS.

If there is one who can take on the current ruling establishment it is Mr. Kejriwal. He can turn out to be a national icon if only he was to turn a statesman. But that’s the difference between an agitationist and a statesman. An agitationist sees the immediate gain and the immediate cause never stooping, while a statesman looks at the larger picture and the long term gains stooping to conquer. 

The Congress leaders in Delhi unit foolishly tried to take a nonexistent third path sadly for which there are not many takers They should have backed the Aam Admi Party to show opposition solidarity thereby establishing what their national President has been advocating going to the extent of letting the regional parties take the lead in their respective regions while themselves taking a haircut.

News that is making the rounds is that the Congress is willing to reduce its share of seats for contesting the next Lok Sabha elections to around 45% of the total seats. Against this background it would have been prudent to back the opposition even while waiting their turn or piggy ride on the oppositions strengths to achieve their near term targets.

I am looking forward to the results of this latest contest. Even as I write this piece the supporters of AAP are marching to the Prime Minister’s residence and the Police are trying to prevent them by locking down metro stations and scuttling all means of transportation. The next few weeks will show who blinks first, my take is it has to be the centre because it seems like a checkmate on the political chess board.

Readers will of course have more time to arrive at your own takes.

17^th June 2018

Roots

Roots

It was early spring a season that brings trees back to life when I landed at my son’s college to attend the convocation ceremony and since it was a law college obviously the chief guest would be someone with a legal backing.

As we all got seated walked in this gentleman tall and rusty with a religious note on his forehead, not quite appealing to say the least. Dark as a true southerner, dressed to portray his years, being lead in by the ‘who is who’ of the institution. They announced his name as Justice Chelameswar. The name seemed so far away, nothing about the man caught my attention, plain naïve so he seemed a perfect fit for a chief guest who wouldn’t dare upset the rhythm of the proceedings.

After the function got over and I am sure Justice Chelameswar would have attended high tea at the premises, made for a great photo-op for people who were too eager to shake his hands. It all seemed so ordinary, in fact who cared a darn over a Supreme Court judge, there were far too many who had donned the robe and all too familiarly given it up without so much as create a ripple and this gentleman didn’t seem any better.

Ordinary folks like me were more into political figures, artists, celebrities and the like. The personal value of such people carried more weight with the layman. After all, people of the legal sort carried a familiarly caricatured distorted contour of their profession.

Today as he sat out his last working day in the Supreme Court the country must give him a standing ovation. Not for taking on the establishment, but for reinforcing that which must be, for acting as true forbearer of morality and established norms. For standing up and reiterating that which should be and not which was purported to be.

On the other hand I saw this gentleman a new kid on the block and reportedly a national spokesperson for the ruling front on national TV, cocky and snorting. You dare not challenge him or question his thinking, because he can never think wrong, and whatever his thought they were for the good of the country.

Now obviously if you didn’t agree with him you would be termed anti national and had no business staying in the country. He and his tribe would even suggest where we should take our undeserving selves to. He seemed so intimidating, though he tried to tone down his overbearing stature through a low voice modulation technique that seemed very docile and submissive, yet you could see the wolf in sheep clothing.

The narrative he submitted was that of his elk who were always inventing view points to target people and their ideas. So enthused was he about being one of the spokespersons of the ruling party of the day, that he called the tallest leader of the opposition group the Congress a half Italian. Now you might argue that there is nothing wrong about this statement since his mother is of Italian origin.

But what is intriguing is the way they as a party lend credence to these thoughts and utilize it to demean a person terming him unworthy of the office to which he aspires.

Remember the Babri Masjid Issue? Well the apparent reference is to a temple that stood there once upon a time. Hence the present status has to be altered to reverse the clock and set it back to the temple times. However what they do not want to argue about is the times before the temple came into existence and would they therefore want the structure to be restored to whatever must have been there in the beginning?.

Would they want to retrace their roots and find out about their origins? Can we then call them half Africans (that’s where it all originated) or half Neanderthals (because it is believed that present day population bears its origins to the mating of Neanderthals with humans)? But they will draw the line according to their shared belief that is so akin to a cult belief. They will stop where they want to and shove their distorted ideas down your throat.

We needed people like Justice Chelameswar to stop them in their tracks, not falling to their intimidation but carefully grafting his response in the best way possible. This country will surely have a lot to thank Justice Chelameswar when the time comes, for he proved that a religious note on his forehead was a private affair and did not infringe with my beliefs.

He clandestinely rode the rough while opposing ideas even while finding able bodies from amongst his fraternity. He proved that a rustic appearance probably lends credence to the fact that not much was expected of him but he strode on unmindful of storms that forced others to calm. He proved what fighting on means and did so according to his means and of his clear understanding not stooping to please and staying true to the course.

That’s what forbearers, torchbearers, seniors and ancestors are made of straightforward and true.

21st May 2018

Down but not out

He is a person who knows what he is saying and knows no fear. He does not care for the formalities or the refined approach one is so used to watching when politicians debate on and off camera. On the contrary he is raw and unfinished as rustic as one could be. Thorough rural disciplined touch, someone who knows not the jugglery of words and attitudes.

He is one who is fodder for mimicry artists and stand up comedians, refreshingly fresh in his thoughts and articulation. He stands up for the untidy, sweaty and rustic villager and represents one of them. Having come out of the deeply lopsided society he minces no words and is a ‘on the face’ person. Everything he utters bears an uncanny ‘take it or leave it’ symbolism about it.

Haven fallen ill in Ranchi Jail, he was paraded on a railway platform to catch a long ride on Indian railways for treatment at AIIMS, New Delhi. Remember he was the Railway minister under whose watch the rail ministry came out for the first time as a profitable venture. They called him at Harvard to understand how he turned around things. Everyone clamored for his attention. But the rustic guy that he is was unfazed by the accolades.

When cabinet ministers and other politicians found replacement kidneys overnight even while lakhs of people are registered for cadaver operations and live donations (comes as no surprise in our system. It is not for nothing that politicians make such a spectacle to make it to the final list and thrown their money’s worth trying to reach parliament).

But this man who is a onetime Chief Minister of an Indian state and is the president of his political party, was made to eat humble pie at AIIMS hospital when he was summarily discharged and loaded onto a rickety Indian railways for the long haul back to Ranchi Jail.

They call him the fodder king for allegedly having misappropriated money meant for fodder when he was incharge of the state and is languishing in prison awaiting his appeals in higher judicial forums. The least they could have done was accorded him a stature befitting his contribution to society. He has reached succor to the down trodden in his state and is still a potential force in that state with competitors trying to insult and malign his image and his contributions down the years.

They are slowly trying to ridicule the man in front of his mass base and supporters, as that is the only way he can be marginalized. But he is someone who is plain naïve in his utterances, though he can identify a potent enemy when he sees one. He is wily enough to identify a googly leaving the hand of the bowler and that is why he has been successful in rubbishing false propaganda unleashed by his opponents.

The fact that he does this in a matter of fact way adds to his image as a theatrical, jovial, clown like personality, be aware he is smart to know your intentions. When the notes for votes explosion took place with the BJP flashing a few bagful of notes in parliament as the bribe that was supposed to be paid for loyalty in deciding the voting pattern, all were stunned as no such incident had ever been heard of before and viewers watching this live on television were already blaming the Congress party for this. In fact even the Congress bigwigs were taken in by surprise and did not know how to respond with senior leaders avoiding the camera.

Everything was looking so authentic and it was as good as getting caught in the act. It was this man called Lalu Prasad Yadav, who authoritatively walked up to the camera and dismissed it as a staged drama by the opposition BJP MP’s. Such was the conviction in this body language that many a doubting Thomas realigned their positions solely on the counterattack by this man.

He is a much misunderstood national leader, because he shuns diplomacy and speaks his heart. This is against the text book teachings in politics. They say that perception matters and this is where he has lost out at present. But perception is temporary while conviction is permanent. His case will be heard out and justice will be ordered by the highest courts.

My only grouse is the way he is being treated while others with suave refined behavior escape the noose and find replacements for their malfunctioning parts or convalescence in hospitals beyond the reach of the common man- abroad alive and kicking.

Though he is being hunted politically and forced into a corner, what the ruling dispensation forgets is that he created his own popularity and was not handed one by his predecessors nor was he reaping the benefits of a largess left behind.

The man does not stand to lose anything and anyone who has nothing to lose does not fear anybody and will not submit. Watch out, for the final round is still to be played and this final gasp may blow the ruling dispensation away.

01 May 2018

Remembering Mrs Louis

She was my class teacher in class V, an Anglo Indian and a no nonsense person as far as her Christian faith goes. Though Catechism was meant only for Catholic students, I being the lone protestant and adhering to a broader scope of the word ‘Christian’ used to be herded into the otherwise all catholic group of students who were prescribed a dose of Christian faith while the non Catholics went through their moral science classes.

Our Catechism book had a lot of stories and we were given to mugging up a lot of verses. Mrs. Louis took a fond interest in seeing that her limited Christian flock would very diligently mug up the verses. As an incentive she would announce an occasional boost in the form of prizes like story books (more of the religious kind). The inscription in plain Mrs. Louis’s handwriting with the words “First prize awarded to……………………………” made us glue our minds to these sometimes long winding verses as we would be able to show our trophies all around and market our achievements while lending these books for others to read.

Whenever we erred or were unable to recite the verses we had so laboriously mugged we were given a remembrance of the kind of Christians we were in her Anglo Indian Hindi accent- “you are all naam ka vaasta Christians”. Looking at the poll results in Nagaland a predominantly Christian state with a 90% majority Christian population and where the church is reformist in nature and substance, I remembered my old class teacher.

Only yesterday an old melodious Malayalam number reached my ears most beautifully sung by ‘His Masters Voice’ Dr. K J Yesudas. The lyrics of the song, penned by Mr. Vayalar Ravi aptly describes the mess we find ourselves in and brings out the journey of religion through times innumerable.

The lyrics translated goes something like this:

‘Man created religion,

Religions created Gods

Now man, religion and Gods together divide land and peoples mind spaces unto themselves…………....’

The election results in Nagaland prove the lyricist right? Because it showed that the BJP which is lowly ranked amongst the majority of Christians was able to muster a majority along with its pre poll alliance partner the Nagaland People’s Party (NPP).

Now it could be a matter of sheer analysis on how a pro hard line Hindu party was voted to power by a predominantly Christian population. Having heard about the romping and stomping of right wing affiliates and eating dictates of the saffron brigade, how could people vote for a party considered a pariah in Christian circles even after the church silently lent its support?

This is baffling, some reports state that money changed hands in huge piles thereby buying into people’s faith; others say that they were taken in by the lure of development. Whatever may the reason the crux is that no religion is infallible to the lure or inducement of a better tomorrow. Christians can also turn around if given the lure of better things for the morrow.

I once met a Christian gentleman in the staircase of my building who during the course of discussions professed his astute love for Christ and how he was willing to die for Jesus. Today I look at his brothers in Christ in a place called Nagaland and think of how they could have betrayed their emotions and conscience when voting for the BJP. When did their undying love and steadfast following turn to wavering?

Which brings us to the question was the lyrist right in penning those lines and isn’t the prophecy of the song writer telling in today’s environment. I can envisage Mrs. Louis standing upright with a cane in her hand stoutly defending her faith. How I wish the gentleman I met on the stairs would be a sample representation of the voting Christian majority in Nagaland.

Alas! This isn’t reality, the reality is that everyone is looking for a better tomorrow, everyone is looking for a satisfactory day end, everyone is bothered only unto himself, it doesn’t matter what Mrs. Louis taught him or what till the other day he had himself professed like the man I met on the stairs.

 Is religion man made and are gods up for sale? Think deeper and arrive at your own understanding.

Robin Varghese

7^th March 2018