ANNE’ NA RAHO (DON’T REMAIN BLIND) (POEM IN PUNJABI)

ਹਜ਼ਾਰਾਂਅਨ੍ਨੇਯਾਂਤੋਬਾਦਪੈਦਾਹੋਯਾਅੰਨਾਹਜਾਰੇ,
ਲੋਕਾਂਨੇਹਜ਼ਾਰਹਜ਼ਾਰਦੇਨੋਟਉਸਤੇਵਾਰੇ,
ਅਤੇਕਹਿਯਾ, “ਜੰਗਕਰੋਅੰਨਾਅਸੀਂਤੁਆਡੇਨਾਲਹਾਂ.”
ਮੈਂਕੇਹਨਲਗਾ, “ਤੁਸੀਂਅੰਨੇਹੋਸਾਰੇ.”
ਜਿਦਾਂਦੇਤੁਸੀਂਹੋ, ਓਦਾਂਦੀਹੈਤੁਆਡੀਸਰਕਾਰ,
ਵੋਟਿੰਗਲਈਤੁਸੀਂਹਰਦਮਰਹੰਦੇਹੋਤੈਯ੍ਯਾਰ,
ਪਰਐਸੇਬਦਮਾਸ਼ਾਂਔਰਮੂਰਖਾਂਨੂ,
ਕ੍ਯੂਂਵੋਟਦਿੰਦੇਹੋਬਾਰਬਾਰ?”
ਲੋਕਪਾਲਬਿਲਨਾਲਕੋਈਫ਼ਰਕਨਹੀਂਪੈਨ੍ਹਾ,
ਇਹਬੋਝਥੁਆਨੁਅਤੇਮੈਨੂਹੈਸੇਹਨਾ,
ਜੇਇਦਾਂਹੀਅਸੀਂਅੰਨੇਬਣੇਰਹੇ,
ਤਾਂਇਕਅੰਨਾਅੰਨਾਹਜ਼ਾਰੇਨੇਕੀਹੈਕਰਲੈਣਾ?”
ਲੋਕਪਾਲਨੂਛਡਕੇਲੋਕਸ਼ਕਤੀਕਰੋ use
ਸਾਰੇਲੀਡਰਾਂਦੇਬੁਲਬਕਰੋ fuse
 ਰਿਸ਼ਵਤ ਮੰਗਣ ਵਾਲੇ ਨੋ ਖੋਲ ਕੇ ਮਾਰੋ ਛਿੱਤਰ,
ਤਾਕੇ corruption ਦਾਰਹਜਾਏਨਾਕੋਈ excuse.”
ਜਿਸਮੁਲਕਦੇਲੋਗਹੋਜਾਣਚੰਗੇ,
ਉਥੇਭਰਿਸ਼ਟ leader ਆਪੇਹੀਹੋਣਗੇਨੰਗੇ,
ਸੋਅਗਲੀਬਾਰਉਸਨੁਕਦੀਦਾਨਾਨਾਪਾਯੋ,
ਜੇਹੜਾਕਰਮਚਾਰੀ underhand ਪੈਸਾਮੰਗੇ.
Hazaran anneyaan to baad paida hoya Anna Hazare,
Lokan ne hazaar hazaar de note uste waare,
Ate keheya, “Jang karo Anna, asin tere naal haan.”
Main kehan laga, “Tussin anne ho saare.”
“Jidan de tussi ho, odan di hai thuadi sarkar,
Voting layi tussin hardam rehnde ho taiyyar,
Per aise badmashan nu ate moorkhan nu,
Kyun vote dinde ho tussi baar baar?”
“Lokpal Bill naal koi ferk nahin paihna,
Eh bojh thuanu ate mainu hai saihna.
Je iddan hi asin anne bane rahe,
Te ik Anna Hazare ne ki hai ker laina?”
“Lokpal nu chhad ke Lok shakti karo use,
Saare leadran de bulb karo fuse,
Rishwat mangan waale no khol ke maro chhittar,
Ta ke corruption da reh na jaaye excuse.”
“Jis mulk de log ho jaan change’,
Uthe bhrisht leader aape hi honge nange.
So agli baar us nu kadi daana na payo,
Jehda karamchari underhand paise mange.”

JAI HIND

Reproduction of a poem I wrote in May 1999 when Pakistan perpetrated the most heinous infiltration into Kargil, the Indian side of Line of Control (LOC):

जाना है तुमको आज इक फ़र्ज़ निभाने की खातिर,
इस देश की मिटटी का क़र्ज़ चुकाने की खातिर,
उठो ए जवानो सर पे बाँध लो कफ़न,
शहीदों में अपना नाम दर्ज़  कराने की खातिर I

दुश्मन ने इक बार  है  फिर तुम्हे ललकारा,
दोस्ती के नाम पे है फिर तमाचा मारा,
क्या भूल गया वो इक मुसलमान शायर का कहना:
सारे जहाँ से अच्छा है हिन्दोस्तान हमारा I

विजय हो तुम्हारी ये देश की है कामना,
करना वीरता से तुम दुश्मनों का सामना,
उठो ए जवानो सर पे बांध लो कफ़न,
सारा जहाँ करेगा तुम्हारी वीरता की सराहना I

इस देश के लिए मिट जायेंगे मर जायेंगे हम,
इक इंच भी अपनी ज़मीन का होने न देंगे कम,
सुनो नवाज़, सुनो मुशर्रफ, सुनो ए सरताज,
सीने यहाँ फौलाद के और बाज़ुयों में है दम I

अब कभी इस तरफ न डालो नज़रें बुरी,
इक तरफ लाहौर यात्रा, और बगल में हो छुरी,
इस बार छोड़ देंगे अपने पे काबू करके,
अगली बार LOC पार न करने की, शायद न हो मजबूरी I

जय हिन्द हमारा नारा है, हिन्द हमारी शान है,
खून का हर तिप्का हिन्द के लिए कुर्बान है,
तुमने सोये शेर को जगा डाला है मूर्ख,
दुश्मन, अब तू चन्द दिनों का मेहमान है I

Jaana hai tumko aaj ik farz nibhane ki khatir,
Is desh ki mitti ka karz chukaane ki khatir,
Utho ai jawaano sar pe bandh lo kafan,
Shahidon mein apna naam darz karane ki khatir.

Dushman ne ik baar, phir tumhen lalkara,
Dosti ke naam pe hai phir tamacha maara,
Kya bhool gaya vo ik musalmaan kavi ka kehna:
“Saare jahan se achha hindostan hamaara”?

Vijay ho tumhaari ye desh ki hai kaamna,
Karna veerta se tum dushmano ka saamna,
Dekho bach ke paaye na ab yeh ghuspathiye,
Saara jahan karega tumhari veerta ki sarahana.

Is desh ke liye mit jaayenge mar jayenge hum,
Ik inch bhi apni zameen ka hone na denge kum,
Suno Nawaz, suno Musharraf, suno ai Sartaz,
Seene yahan faulad ke aur baazuyon mein hai dum.

Ab kabhi is taraf na daalo nazrein buri,
Ik taraf Lahore Yaatra, aur bagal mein ho chhuri,
Is baar chhod denge apne pe kaabu karke,
Agli baar LOC paar na karne ki, shayad na ho majboori.

Jai Hind hamaara naara hai, Hind hamaari shaan hai,
Khoon ka her tipka Hind ke liye qurbaan hai,
Tumne soye sher ko jaga daala hai moorkh,
Dushman, ab tu chand dino ka mehmaan hai.

 

IF ONLY

Sometimes I feel life is blasé
An alluring mirage that I chase.
Sounds of fun and laughter are
Like gunshots
Piercing through my heart.

Sometimes I feel I lost you long ago
You were near and yet so far;
Knowing that I needed you
But imagining that I’d live without you.
“Let me, then, throw another dart.”

The last time, our last time, when we talked,
I found you far, very far.
I wanted this, I wanted that,
I wanted nothing;
And you had nothing to give me, on your part.

I could hear many voices,
I could see many sneering faces,
And you sitting with them,
Laughing and chatting,
Your cunning perfected to an art.

If only….

If only, I could sit with you
And talk to you
And look into your eyes
And find me there.
As the only one in your heart.

If only…

If only, I could die.
And mingle with the breeze
And touch you anywhere, anytime;
And caress you within and without
Without seeing you apart.

If Only

If only….

They’d destroy the world,
Leaving just the two of us alive.
If only, God Himself would command
You and I
To be a new world’s start.

ADMIRAL AND MANTRI JI

Now that our Raksha Mantri (Defence Minister), Shri AK Antony, has, like all politicians before him and probably after him, shown aversion to talk to his service chiefs we need to examine why is it so. Even our bureaucrats are used to putting the uniformed personnel in their place. We have reached a situation in our country when the collective neglect, indifference and aversion of the government, administration and police towards the armed forces has made this honourable profession one of the least attractive of all professions in India for the youth of the country. One would think that the countrymen, at large, would hold the armed forces personnel, resplendent in their uniforms, in awe and esteem. Yes they do. But, eligible men don’t want to join the forces and eligible women don’t want to marry faujis. When I was in the school, there was a popular Punjabi song whose words were: “O, fauji nu bayaah de babula, chaahe boot sanhe lat maare.” (O Father, I want to get married to a soldier even if he kicks me with his boots). In contrast, a decade back, a survey done amongst eligible brides showed that they ranked armed forces personnel as the tenth choice for marriage.

It is really not understandable because Indian Armed Forces rank amongst the finest in the world in achievements, training, caliber and efficiency of their personnel. In comparison, the Indian politicians, bureaucrats and police personnel, who might just have begun from the same stock in schools and villages, are ranked amongst the worst in the world. And yet, an Indian Police Officer, for example, reaches the rank of a DIG in about 12 to 14 years of service but his armed forces equivalent requires twice as much service.

Could it be that in India that is increasingly become materialistic and dumbed down, money, power and status, together with stability of posting near one’s home place, are considered more important than honour and dignity that comes with having a President’s Commission? Also, since the levels of commitment, rectitude and training in the armed forces viz-a-viz their civilian counterparts are extremely high, the latter feel that the former and their impractical fauji ways should be kept at several arms’ lengths.

The awe is obvious when civilians – used to their environment of filth, chaos, casual dresses and chalta hai (couldn’t care less) attitude – are suddenly exposed to order, discipline, efficiency, shining uniforms and professionalism of the armed forces.

A Raksha Mantri, many years ago, was visiting the Indian Flagship Vikrant (an aircraft carrier; now a museum ship). After the forenoon’s intense flying operations, as he came to the wardroom for drinks and lunch, he had the Master Chief Petty Officer Steward, looking smart in his tunic and pants (worn for the ceremonial occasion) serving him small-eats from a tray. The RM looked at the MCPO Steward and decided that he must be a very senior officer (most of them have no idea of ranks in the armed forces, let alone in the Navy). So he took the tray from the nonplussed MCPO and offered to him the delicacies in return by saying, “Pehle aap” (You first). The senior sailor nearly died of mortification.

I am also reminded of two boys who grew up in the same town and studied in the same school. The politician’s son hated the other who wanted to join the navy. Their hatred and aversion continued till well after they finished their schooling.

 Many years later, the politician’s son had himself become a politician of some fame – nay notoriety; whereas, the other had become an Admiral. One day the Netaji (politician) or Mantriji (Minister) saw the Admiral, resplendent in his uniform in the lobby of a hotel. Mantriji recognised the latter straightway when the latter wasn’t looking and with the power that came with his post, wanted to show down the Admiral. So he called him thus, “Bell boy, please get me a taxi.”

The Admiral turned around and confronted his boyhood bête noire, saw the shabby attire and the belly that many Indian politicians have, which looked like that of a pregnant lady, and responded, “Certainly ma’am; but, in your condition should you be traveling?”

WHY READ WHEN YOU CAN ‘LIKE’?

God, do me a great favour
Offering to you I will hike,
Let people read the stuff I put up,
And not just press the ‘Like’.

Also, God, this is straight from heart,
With no offences meant,
Why don’t you goad them on sometimes,
To press the button called ‘Comment’?

There are others who don’t even ‘Like’ God,
So, those who do are better;
But, whilst I like their spirit God,
I also want to see their letter.

If we are not careful, God,
We’ll soon reach a time,
When people will press buttons at random,
With no real reason or rhyme.

So, let everyone who likes this post,
Tell us his own valued point;
So that rather than being one-sided,
This effort will be joint.

Who knows, while doing so,
We may actually discover the gold;
That is hidden somewhere in the heart,
But is patiently waiting to be told?

Lets have one day of the week,
When we shall actually share our thought,
And simply not press the button ‘Like’,
And hope to convey all we’ve got.

TERRORIST AT HOME

Terrorists, it is said, are people like us; human beings with similar interests in school and college and office and everywhere; and in everything. Indeed, if you have looked at the profiles of some of them; their neighbours, relatives and friends have been surprised that such and such turned out to be a terrorist. The earlier revelation,  with immense scandalising potential, was if someone had to tell us that Mr. Saxena (name withheld for obvious reasons), who sang songs about the virtues of his wife and who carried a glad-eye for females in our colony, was actually gay. Homosexuality doesn’t scandalise us anymore. Nowadays, we are half preparing to be confronted with the revelation of someone or the other in our colony or known to us turning out to be a terrorist.

It could be the guy who spends a lot of time on facebook. It could be the one who contributed the maximum to your colony’s Ganesha idol. Yet again, it could be the one who likes Pakistani singer Hadiqa Kiyani better than Lata Mangeshkar. Or, could it be the guy who is always helping women and old people in the building, especially when the lifts are not working? It could be the boy from two blocks away who repaired your computer for free; they are known to be tech savvy, ain’t they?

Would the terrorist’s immediate family know that he is one? If he is married, would his wife know? I remember this one from Hagar the Horrible comic strip:

Hagar: I am off to invade England. Rough and lonely seas, strange shores, and immense glory and wealth await me.
Helga: On your way out, will you take the garbage to the bin please?

Likewise, would the terrorist’s wife have average marital interests whilst our man is reading ‘Ten Easy Ways to Make Bombs’ in bed? “Darling, you are always reading something or the other in bed. Now switch off the lights and come into my arms.” And our fellow feels irritated because he has just come to the fascinating part where the red wire has to make contact with the blue one from the small alarm clock. “You go to sleep” he pleads, “I am studying for an exam. I don’t want to fail.”

Fail at what, Mr. Terrorist? At blowing the daylights out of innocent men, women and children; just like your wife and kids. But he doesn’t let these thoughts make him weak. He is doing a job just like everyone else; the paanwaala making paans, the Best driver driving his bus, or the coolie carrying someone’s load to make a living.

She has not given up yet; no woman does. She continues undettered: “Darling, when will we go and see ‘Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara’ (A movie: ‘You Can’t Live Your Life Again’) . Sarita and her husband have already gone and seen and they say it is a good one.

Mr. Terrorist has come to the point in the book when the explosion is more or less assured, extinguishing many lives. He is about to tell her irritatingly, “Of course we shall go to see the movie as soon as I have finished killing dozens of people in Zaveri bazaar. Their Zindagi (Lives) will never be dobara (Again). Why do you always interrupt me only when I am planning something big?” But; at the last minute replaces it with, “Don’t worry, we shall go and see it after I have finished with the current assignment.”

Does she suspect him? Does she know what he is up to?
Her next utterance is reassuring, “Salma broke her chappal strap today. Will you have it repaired tomorrow?”

“Oh, for heavens’ sake, woman”, he nearly blurts out, “Here I am about to make a bomb and you are worried about your daughter’s broken chappal strap.”

She didn’t expect a reply to the last one. She knew the answer. Finally she only would have to get it repaired just like she did with Aslam’s satchel. ‘Why can’t the husbands take interest in anything other than their Office Work, she muses.

“Darling”, she asks next (she hasn’t finished with the questioning that he finds tougher than what his apprehended friends were subjected to by the Police, “Where are you going tomorrow?”

“Zaveri Bazaar”, he says involuntarily.

“Ah then” she says, “Since you are going there in any case, how about getting me a diamond ring that you had promised me two years back?”

“Woman”, he says, “Will you please shut up and let me read this interesting book. It is really a bomb”.

She is about to give up when a really bright idea occurs to her. This would be just perfect. They deserve a break. The last time they took a holiday was many years back when they went to Nainital. But, of course, that was before they shifted to Mumbai.

“Hey, I have an idea”, she coos in his ear, “Aslam and Salma are going to have term break. Why don’t we go and spend sometime at Matheran? It will be great fun, pony rides, hills, fog and gentle rain…”

“Shut up”, he tells her mentally, “If all goes well, our next holiday will be in Murree.”

CHINA – IMPRESSIONS OF MY VISIT

To most Indians China is a quaint country. One hears of it, admires its culture and food but does not routinely plan to visit it. It is only recently that we have had a renewed interest in China, thanks to a series of postures and events culminating in the efficiently conducted Beijing Olympics; and later Expo at Shanghai. China fills us with emotions ranging from awe to anxiety. Last year we concluded the Commonwealth Games and sobriety about our oft repeated comparison with this emerging superpower would have hit us like a wet towel.

I was fortunate to have visited China in my official capacity as Director of the College of Naval Warfare (Now, Naval War College) in Jan last year with the entire Naval Higher Command Course (NHCC) and many of our ladies. Earlier in Nov 2008 Admiral Wu Shengli, the PLA (Navy) Commander, during his visit to Mumbai had interacted with the NHCC. Considerable bonhomie was developed during this interaction. The Admiral invited the CNW officers to visit the Naval Command College in Nanjing, China. No one took it seriously except me. I planned a visit to China during the FCT or the Foreign Country Tour for the NHCC. In 2009 the tour did not come through because of “short notice”. I persisted and in Jan 2010 the tour actually materialised, though with a little persuasion.
Our reception at Pudong Airport, Shanghai
Why was the persuasion necessary? My own assessment is that PLA (N) although taking great strides and making ripples in international arena, is still the poor cousin of People’s Liberation Army. Many high ranking Indian delegations visit China every year and our visit might not have been considered a high priority by the PLA. However, once the planning had been done with the PLA, some of it at the eleventh hour, my insistence that we were to be there at the invitation of the Admiral made the visit exceedingly important and successful. I was not sure whether the Admiral would have even remembered the invitation until we landed at Pudong airport, Shanghai.
Commander Shanghai Naval Base
RAdm Xu Weibing
hosting banquet fro u

We had a grand reception at the airport. Suddenly, we were told that Commander Shanghai Naval Base, RAdm Xu Weibing, would be our chief host in place of the Deputy Commander as had been planned

Breathtaking Acrobatics

earlier. The next evening we had a visit to the Shanghai Naval Base where we were received by the Base Commander himself. During the banquet dinner, as he sat next to me and I thanked him for looking after us so well, he said he had received a call from Admiral Shengli and the latter had told him to spare no efforts to make our visit successful, fruitful and comfortable. At one time, before leaving for China, we were worried whether the naval delegation would be welcome there. But, once there, thanks to the Admiral, even the ladies were looked after in a grand manner. We visited the Pearl Tower, the main tourist attraction at Shanghai. In a public place we were received by a reception party accompanied by a military band. In the evening, we were told that the Admiral had gifted tickets for the world famous Shanghai Acrobatics show for all of us. And what a show it was. For nearly two hours we sat spellbound as we watched the acrobats perform their miraculous acts in a continuous flow of music and performances.

Signing Visitors’ Book at Shanghai Expo

The city was spotlessly clean and extremely presentable. It must rank amongst some of the world’s great cities such as New York and Sydney. There were no slums anywhere and the traffic ran smoothly. Young men and women moved around as freely as in any western country. We saw all the sites for Expo 2010 to be held from May to Oct 10. And yet, all the centres and infrastructure were ready good five months before the Expo. There was a sense of pride in the Shanghai people to put their best foot forward. Most of them said that the Expo would be to Shanghai what Olympics were to Beijing.

Brocade Museum – Nanjing

Our next city visit was to Nanjing. Rear Admiral Li Zhouming, Commandant, Naval Command College, was our host there. I had received the Commandant in my capacity as Director Maritime Warfare Centre, Mumbai, in Feb 05. He remembered that and also said that Admiral Shengli had phoned him to make our visit successful. In addition to official interactions we visited the Nanjing Massacre Museum showcasing the Japanese atrocities; and the Nanjing Brocade Museum.

PLA (N) Hqs at Beijing

At Beijing, thanks once again to the personal instructions of Admiral Shengli, we interacted with a high level delegation comprising the Chief of Staff, General Staff, PLAN Headquarters, VAdm Su Shi Liang, and his entire team of senior staff including the Deputy Chief of Staff, RAdm Liuo Shining.

The fare at ther Duck restaurant

A visit to the Great Wall of China and to a Chinese Duck restaurant were thrown in at Beijing. Even though the weather is reputed to be bad during January, in keeping with the warmth we had generated, wherever we went it was nice and sunny. I was relatively junior in hierarchy but I was treated with a protocol befitting an Admiral; complete with police pilot escorts wherever we went.

At the Great Wall of China

We hear a lot about Chinese incursions in the Indian Ocean; their doggedness in what they call their private lake, that is, the South China Sea, string of pearls theory and refusal to let LtGen BS Jaswal, Northern Army Commander, visit China on a planned visit. But, we of the CNW, for those seven days in January last year completely forgot about the Dragon and were as much home there as we would be, say, in Mauritius. Naval diplomacy worked and worked well. There was no great wall between us.

 

SAILORS WILL BE SAILORS

Okay, guys and gals, I am back again. As you probably know, ‘Leave’ in the Navy is called ‘Leave’, whereas short leave ashore is called ‘Liberty’. Unlike the Army, which has a lot of manpower, ships don’t have much to man all Action Posts and, at the same time, send people on Leave. From the time I joined the Navy in 1973 until I left last year, ‘Leave’ was always restricted. This is in sharp contrast to our Army brethren who not only get full Annual Leave but also Casual Leave, Study Leave etc.

Therefore, various kinds of excuses are often devised to somehow get leave or extension of leave.

I was on duty as an Officer of the Day (OOD) on board a ship in Cochin (the spellings had not yet been changed to Kochi) harbour. ‘Liberty’ is permitted for Senior Sailors until thirty minutes past midnight and for Junior Sailors until midnight. It is the job of the Duty Chief Petty Officer to report to the OOD at forty-five minutes past midnight that all Libertymen have returned aboard safely. The OOD in turns makes a report, only if there is default, to the Executive Officer (XO, the second in command). On that particular night, I was hovering around the gangway when the Duty Chief came to report to me that all Libertymen were correct except for Leading Signalman Pillai.

I was furious and being a young and enthusiastic Subaltern Lieutenant that I was I thought of waiting at the gangway itself so that I could give Pillai a good dressing down as soon as he’d step on board. Fifteen minutes went by and there was no sign of Pillai getting back, drunk or otherwise. I had already built up to the harangue that I would give him. Another fifteen minutes went by and now steam had already started coming out of my ears. Still no sign of the errant boy.

It was getting late; but I reckoned if I had waited this long, I might as well wait a little longer to participate actively in the fireworks on his arrival.

At about 1:40 AM when I had tough time in keeping awake, the gangway phone rang (there were no cell phones during those days). The quartermaster picked up the receiver, listened for a while, nodded his head, and then handed the receiver to me.

There was a feminine voice at the other end whose opening query was to ask me if I was the Odd Man. Calmly I confirmed that I was the OOD. Next she wanted to know if Pillai was from my ship. I expected the worst; what if Pillai had met with an accident? She said I and the ship should be proud of Pillai. Once again I confirmed to her that yes indeed we were and he was to get his just reward (at least seven days of No. 11 punishment, that is, extra work and drill for an hour each in the morning and evening; but that I didn’t tell her).

Next she enquired if Pillai was ever let off from the ship without completing his assigned task. I confirmed to her that such an eventuality never took place. Now, she switched to her sexiest tone and said that if I was so proud of Pillai, then how was it that I wanted him to return on board without completing his task….with her?

The Navy trains you well but nothing in my naval training had prepared me well to answer that query.

Pic courtesy: Stinkbrown.org

I believe one of my superiors on another ship did well to answer a similar query. A telegram was received on board, “Request extension ten days; wife not satisfied.” This officer had the good humour to send response, “Extension granted until wife satisfied.”

Another telegram received on board for a sailor read: “Mother serious; come home immediately for Diwali.”

Then there is this one that was told to me:

A sailor returned late from Liberty and was produced in front of the OOD as a defaulter. The OOD asked him to tell what went wrong. The sailor explained that he had gone home only to find that his wife was having a bath.

“So?” boomed the OOD.
“So, sir, I opened the door a little and saw her” replied the sailor.
“And naturally you got aroused. But that shouldn’t have taken you all of six hours” blasted the OOD again.
And the sailor replied, “That’s correct Sir, but, it took me that much time to dry my uniform.”

WHY ARE WE RAPED AGAIN?

What exactly is a rape? It is essentially an act of force and violence perpetrated against a weak being who has no choice but to submit. It causes great trauma and changes the victim’s behaviour, hopes, anxieties, responses, beliefs, suspicions, complexes, proclivities, and emotions forever.

The keyword above is ‘weak‘. The carnage and trauma caused by repeated rape of Indians, through acts of terrorism, doesn’t fill us with resolve to never to allow such acts to be perpetrated against our people again. In contrast, each act of terrorism makes us weaker and impotent.

I think the reasons and the solutions (intrinsic with each reason) are multi-fold:

1. To start with there is a complete failure of our type of democracy that elects governments that not only do not protect the lives of their people (their primary responsibility) but are increasingly out of sync with the hopes and aspirations of people. I brought out the cause of the malaise in an article in this blog: ‘How Proud Should We Be of Indian Republic at 62?’

2. Secondly, terrorist acts come under ‘law and order’, that is, a states subject. However, much of it is in the purview of the central government, especially when it is Pak sponsored. In case of Pakistan, as with most other things, we don’t appear to have a clear policy except for one point agenda (given to us by the US) of somehow to continue with talks.

3. Thirdly, from a politico-military point of view, Pakistan appears to be exercising Deterrence against us (through irrationality and Nuclear Weapons Enabled Terrorism) but we have willfully let go of our Deterrence despite our considerable superiority in conventional war means and potential. For a deterrence to work, we should be ready to demonstrate it sometimes (at least through signalling an intent); whereas, our national and military think-tanks routinely convey to Pakistan that we have lost the battle even before it begins. We are not averse to using our Army against our own people. But, against Pakistan, anyone who moots the idea is promptly labelled as a hawk (implying loony).

4. Fourthly, the primary security force here is Police. Over a period of time, Police has willy-nilly conveyed and demonstrated that they are there to discipline us through various ways (from bribes to lathi-charge). Protecting lives of citizens is not very high priority.

5. Fifthly, let us put the blame squarely on the media, which has not matured enough. The kind of coverage it gives of a terror incident is like playing into the hands of the terrorists. Did anyone see gruesome pics of terror victims in, say, London terror blasts? Our media’s main focus of coverage is that. The terrorist causes half the panic. The other half is caused by the media. The media also goes overboard in projecting the ineptness of the security agencies as if the enemy actually is the security agencies.

6. Lastly, lets not forget all of us. When peace prevails, we resist any measures by security agencies that would bring some order in our lives. For heavens sake, lets not forget that our people even oppose wearing of helmets on two-wheelers being “imposed” on them.

Therefore, when we get a statement from the PM, on visiting Mumbai, “I share Mumbaikars’ pain and anger”; we know that what he means is that he has shared this many times in the past, and will share many times in the future too.

LIKE

Every innovation, new organisation or set-up comes with a new vocabulary that changes the way we look at things and respond. The Navy, for example, has a totally different lingo that the land-lubbers find quaint. ‘Port’, ‘Starboard’, ‘Aye Aye’ ‘Bundleman’ ‘Son of the gun’ etc are some of the words that have invaded our consciousness because of the Navy. When Internet was launched, we were exposed to a brand new lingo, which has become so common now that when we tell someone to ‘google‘ something, we know that he/she would understand that we want him/her to look up all available information about the thing. Similarly, we use the words ‘Cut and Paste’ to denote an item that someone has plagiarised.Together with the new lingo comes our interpretation and jokes about the same. Many years back, after India purchased the Swedish Howitzers from Bofor company and there were allegations of large scale kick-backs, the word ‘Bofor‘ became synonymous with bribery and corruption. I took a cab in Delhi and started discussing the current politics with the cab driver. We were discussing the situation in Bihar. During the discussions the cab-driver told me, “Mujhe to iss mein kuchh bofor lagta hai.” (I suspect some bofor in it)

A similar thing has happened in India with the words ‘Scam’, ‘Adarsh’, ‘Incumbency’, ‘Plot’, ‘Loot’, ‘BHK’ ‘Budget’, ‘Bollywood’ etc. Irrespective of the language being used, such words creep in the discussions and everyone understands their meaning and context.

One recent word made famous by ‘Facebook’ is ‘Like‘. Millions of people now ‘Like‘ things – photos, comments, news, events, people, songs, videos more than they ever did in their lives. Let us say there is a news item that reads: ‘India’s national capital Delhi is the most unsafe for teen girls’. You don’t want to record your comments; no, not as yet. So you press the ‘Like‘ button mechanically. Now, if someone were to ask you if you really like teen girls being unsafe in Delhi, it would fill you with surprise. You look for various explanations to defend your ‘reflex‘ action. “Oh, that? I pressed ‘Like‘ to record my appreciation of the plight of these girls being ‘finally’ highlighted.”

Now that the word ‘Like‘ has become so commonplace, lets reflect on what all does it denote. Here are some translations:

  • I truly appreciate the item.
  • I don’t have time to read it fully or record a comment.
  • I couldn’t care less one way or the other.
  • ‘Like’ a hole in the head.
  • I have read your comment.
  • I am bookmarking this item to read at leisure.
  • Stop it NOW or else.
  • Okay, I have ‘Liked’ it, what now?
  • Does it really matter?
  • I am ‘Liking’ it but don’t get me involved in it, for heavens sake.
  • I expect you too to ‘Like‘ when I put up something.
  • There was no other choice and so I pressed ‘Like‘.

If you ever ask people to explain what they have ‘Liked‘, my guess is that a considerable percentage of them wouldn’t have even read the article or gone through the pictures or video. They would be like the boss asking the secretary to give him a list of people that he calls by their first-names.

Life has, therefore, becomes easier for all us who press ‘Like‘ and get it over with. How nice and convenient it would be if Life would actually become like that? What all meanings we would be able to convey to people if we were to use the facebook ‘Like‘ in real life? Here are some examples:

  • We really ‘Like‘ your visiting us on a sunday afternoon. (No, no, it is so boring to have our siesta on the only day of the week we can)
  • I ‘Like‘ the beautiful dress that you are wearing. (You picked it up from the roadside didn’t you?)
  • We ‘Like‘ your children having got 95 percent marks in matriculation. (Doesn’t look like they have any other interersts; in any case, these days the more you cheat, the more you get rewarded)
  • We ‘Like‘ the three hundred seventy eight pictures of your son’s graduation ceremony. (Come to our house sometime and let us return the honour)
  • We ‘Like‘ your invitation for a lecture on ‘Breeding Habits of the Common Fly’.
  • You are ready to jail corrupt Indian politicians? We ‘Like‘ it. (As long as they are from the opposition)
  • Actress A, B, or C bares all? I ‘Like‘ it. (In private, I can’t tell you what would I do with her nude picture)
  • India declares another holiday to commemorate another national leader? We (really) ‘Like‘ it.
  • Pakistan refused aid by US after yet another evidence of the former’s involvement in terror plot? We ‘Like‘ it. (However, very soon Pakis would find other means of siphoning aid)

One of my friends, on facebook, is the most ‘Like able’ guy. There is nothing that he hasn’t ‘Liked‘ from Priyanka Chopra to CBMs between India and Pakistan. There are times, however, when I actually want him to read or see something. Any suggestions how should I go about it?

ROGER AND US – A LOVE STORY WITHOUT AN END

Roger, our darling, would have been twelve today. On his birthday, my wife Lyn used to put a red ribbon around his neck. The day used to start with family prayers in front of Guru Granth Sahib and Roger would know when exactly the Prashad would be served. Feeding him Prashad on his birthday was the greatest joy we had ever experienced.
Today, as we said our prayers and distributed Prashad, we hoped in some manner Roger would get the whiff of it and taste it.
Dear Roger, now that you are with God, don’t forget your family on this day that is so precious to us. I am sure you must be keeping them all busy in Heaven just looking at you, cuddling you, fussing you.
Happy Birthday, Roger. May God be with you always.

Roger was not part of our life…he was our life. After his sudden demise, my elder son Arjun phoned me and said they had lost a brother. Roger, the sheer joy that you brought into our lives, right until your end at 1145 hrs Friday, the 13th May 11, will be everfresh since you touched our lives in a myriad happy ways. Arjun said that you would have never wanted to see us sad. We shall learn to get out of this mood at your sudden departure. We know, our darling, that you came into our lives simply to Love and Cherish. And both you and us have more love left to shower on one another when we meet next.

Until then, we shall remember, every little way of yours: how you made the whole family run to catch you when you were small. How you gave us a lick when overwhelming love came over you; how you shredded the pillow into bits thinking of it as a toy; how you ran out of the house when accidently you found the door ajar and we had to continue coaxing you with commnads of “get inside, Roger”; how you loved riding the car, Maruti Gypsy, bicycle…anything that moved; how you prepared to welcome guests coming home…how you sat facing the kitchen when mama was readying your meal..how you knew papa was coming home even when he was miles away…how you greeted us at the door everytime we returned from outside even when we were late…how you never wanted to be left alone…how you loved us…and how we loved you.

 

We have a whole new vovabulary because of you; a routine of the day we can’t get out of…we shall miss moving our hands in your fur and giving a gentle squeeze to your ears…we shall miss taking you for walks and playing with you..and hugging you and holding you tight.

Other day, a friend asked me, Roger, why do we miss our pets so much when they go? My prompt reply: Because, unlike our friends, relatives, sons and daughters, pets don’t have any independent life. Their total life is with us and for us. A dog loves us more than he loves himself.

Thank you, Roger, for teaching us how to Love.

We shall never forget you, our baby.

Here are some of our memories of you, not in any particular order:

 

All set to receive Prashad

 

How you loved to be taken for a ride, Roger?!!
Always looking for cool places.

 

Scared of Diwali crackers and hiding

 

Always loved his bath

 

Not liking Papa being busy in Paranayam
Enjoying music in Arjun’s room
Always being where the family is
“Enjoying” a movie with Arun

Despite all the toys…..
……Papa’s slippers were the favourite toys.
And Our Dearest Roger, we shall always remember you as…..
Reaching for the stars…
Come any festival or occasion, you will somehow again get into the scene and the pictures…

When we enter the house, we shall know you are waiting for us at the door…..
Wait for us, Roger; we shall join you there one day and then we shall again be a loving family together; loving one another like you taught us to.

YOU CAN’T HELP LOVING THEM

Tomorrow would have been our Roger’s twelfth birthday; and this one is just appropriate:A man invites a friend for lunch. For the sake of clarity lets call them Rahul, the one who invites; and Suraj, the one who is invited. Rahul receives Suraj at the door and notices that Suraj has arrived with his dog. The dog looks a little slovenly to Rahul but as Suraj and his dog enter, Rahul reckons he has no choice but to entertain them both.

Rahul notices that initially the dog just sits at Suraj’s feet. But, soon the dog becomes active and starts going through Rahul’s house, along the way dropping many a thing and upsetting the whole house in general. Rahul finds it rather strange that the dog makes his way to the kitchen and finds food for himself and is merrily carrying such food all over the house. He even jumps on the sofa and makes himself totally at home.

Later, when they are having lunch, the dog jumps on one of the chairs and helps himself to some of the food on the table.

Rahul takes all this in his stride because he doesn’t want to offend Suraj. However, he is really agitated when the dog upsets a side table and Rahul’s precious parcelain vase is shattered to pieces. He also does his pooh over Rahul’s carpet.

So, as he sees off Suraj and the dog after the lunch, Rahul finds it difficult to hide his anger at the dog misbehaving in his house and Suraj doing nothing to discipline or control him. At the door he tells Suraj rather acidly, “Bye, Suraj, it was nice having you over. But, perhaps next time you may consider visiting me without your dog.”

Suraj responds, “My dog? My dog? And all this while I thought this was your dog.”

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