Category: Humour

WE ARE LIKE THAT ONLY

‘Slumdog Millionaire’ did for us Indians something different from an article in the Readers Digest, a few years back. The article had labelled Indians as some of the rudest in the world based on an international survey. We went to town confronting the western perception about politeness. What good is western politeness, we asked challengingly, when no one comes to anyone’s rescue? Indians, on the other hand, we asserted, would naturally help anyone in difficulty, be it during floods, earthquakes, stampedes or whilst waiting for trains or aircrafts several hours late. It is at this stage that ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ invaded our collective consciousness. Without going into the merits of the movie and its concept, I would like to venture that yet another time we have been duped into believing that perhaps there is some sort of virtue (the feel good factor) in being what we are. We may be living in squalor, we may be rude or uncouth, cruel or ill-tempered, but, finally the prizes of unheard of riches and a charming beauty would fall at our feet.Coincidentally, when I joined the Navy, I, together with all other Indians, lauded the innate simplicity of Rundi K Bakshi played by Peter Sellers in The Party. Now, when I am about to leave the Navy, Slumdog has done something similar. In between, we had Aamir Khan in ‘Rangeela’ and a host of other movies portraying the uncouth Indian winning everything that was at stake.Nothing has changed over these thirty-four years; nothing in India ever changes. We still believe in miracles and fairy tale endings. We are like that only. A great nation? A great people? Well, there is no harm in opening our eyes sometimes and looking at ourselves as what or who we really are. Here is a short list.
 
Poverty and Squalor. The last five years have been a period of unprecedented GDP growth for India, second only to China. Yet, the number of poor in the country has increased. Where has all the money and growth gone? Well, the richest 10 Indians have 10% of the GDP and the richest 50 Indians have 30 % of GDP. In Mumbai, the areas under slums have increased since independence. We don’t have our poverty to blame for our being filthy. We take immense pride in personal hygiene and bathe frequently, many a time in the open. However, our cities are filthy because of our collective habit of littering. Most of our tourist places are now huge trash bins. We frequently perceive an eating place to be expensive if it is clean and are very much at home in muck. The last census showed that nearly half the population of Mumbai does not have access to toilets. We repel clean surroundings so much that the first paan spittle appears even as a new building is being white washed. Even naval areas are not immune. We are like that only.
 
Chaos. One reason why we have this uncanny ability to take things in our stride is because we love chaos, especially on the roads. The state of most of our roads tells us that roads in India are meant for many purposes other than for traffic. Roads are, for example, virtual playgrounds, pastures, garbage dumps, promenades, procession routes and meeting places for people and animals. There is perpetual maintenance going on. We are very environmentally friendly people. Hence, if roads are where rivulets and agricultural fields used to be; these are kept as close to their original purpose and condition as possible. Even where we have four-laning of a road, a greater part of this would still be used as two lanes because of never-ending repairs on two of the lanes that keep alternating. Our driving habits constantly remind us that life as a journey (suhana safar) can’t be taken too seriously. Many of us finish this journey without losing life or limb and that is more by chance than design or intention. Signboards and road markings are for decorative purposes only. Anyone new to our places has to repeatedly ask people for directions. Thus we transform even simple journeys into adventure trips. We are like that only.
 
People in a Hurry. Any foreigner coming to India is instantly taken aback by the sheer number of people on the streets. We have perfected the art of individually being in a flaming hurry whilst collectively standing still. With all our manpower every task assumes the proportions of a project, which goes on forever. Recently in Dubai I learnt that a four lane undersea tunnel took just four months from the award of contract to completion. In that much time, we have not been able to complete laying tiles on a pavement between Afghan and RC Churches. Yet, no Indian would wait for a second to let the vehicle ahead of him to cross the traffic lights before him. Announcements such as, ‘Please do not open the overhead lockers until the aircraft comes to a complete standstill’ or ‘Please allow the passengers ahead of you to disembark first’ are necessitated only in India. Perhaps, the frustration that we feel about our files not moving at all in public offices or our court cases not coming to any conclusion goads us to at least be ahead of the next person. We push, we fret, and we break queues to somehow get ahead. At every level crossing in our country, as soon as the gates are closed to allow a train to cross, from both sides, the vehicles joining at the rear start moving towards the closed gate on the opposite lane. Within no time, the road is now totally blocked since both lanes from both sides are full. Thus the entire traffic gets delayed by minutes, if not hours. However, those who jump the lanes have this satisfaction that delayed or not, they are now ahead of others. This goes on, without fail, at every crossing, every time. We never learn. We are like that only.
 
Everyone is Someone. We have no respect for the rule of the law. Taking shortcuts and to somehow “adjust” things are astuteness for us. If and when caught on the wrong foot, instead of feeling guilty, we are prone to ask, “Pata nahin main kaun hoon?” (Do you know who I am?) Reminds me of the hefty Chinese in a restaurant picking up cudgels with everyone in sight with the haughty proclamation, “No one can stand up to me; I am Chow Mein from China”. This continued for some time until a really massive sardar confronted him, “Hello, Chow Mein from China, You want to have a bout with me?” Looking at the massive hulk of the sardar, our Chinese hero stuttered, “But, actually I am Chicken Chow Mein.” How we wish someone would tell our paper tigers too as to who they really are.
 
Worshipping Heroes. An Indian hero is worshipped better than a god. Indeed, many erect temples for these heroes. In many part of the world, heroes are said to have larger-than-life existence. But, in our case it is literally true. God forbid if anything should happen to our hero; we can commit suicide or burn our homes or those of others. Curiously, many a times, lives are lost in protecting not just the hero but also his statue. We are like that only.
 
Chai-Paani Bakshish. Indians now rank amongst the most corrupt people on earth. The chai-paani bakshish has assumed gargantuan proportions. Everywhere and for everything palms are to be greased. There is a greater sense of acceptability of this type of gratification in public life. Indeed, a few years back I saw a cartoon in which the cop had stopped a driver and demanded money to let him off his petty traffic offence. When told by the driver that he did not have money, the cop told him, “Don’t have money? Don’t worry, we accept credit cards.” Another cartoon is equally revealing. It is about crores of rupees of scams that we so regularly unearth. In this cartoon a cop is taking a handcuffed petty thief to jail and is telling him, “You are unlucky that you stole a few rupees. If you had stolen lakhs, I could be your security guard.” A notorious bandit-queen-turned-politician had amassed more riches in a few years in politics than in all the years of her being a dacoit. We just love scams and speed money. We are like that only.
 
Everyone is Involved. There are no private transactions – everyone is somehow involved in everything. Take a street fight for example. Let us say Mr. A has an altercation with Mr. B. Very soon, realising that arguments are not getting them anywhere, A reaches for B’s neck or vice versa. Mr.C who was all this while applying katha in his paan shop jumps to B’s rescue. This stops A in mid track since by this time he had already started seeing visions of B having been reduced to pulp. Mr. D, at this stage, is on an urgent errand to Electricity Office for asking for reduction in his monthly bill. He quickly takes in the situation and does not like the unfair play of two (B and C) against one (A). He temporarily forgets his errand and jumps in the fray. This is totally to the liking of E who sees in this an opportunity to settle scores with D for playing the music too loud when he is doing his Paranayam. Gradually, therefore, the crowd becomes bigger and shouts of ‘Maro saale ko’ (Beat the brother-in-law) shriller. In the outer circle of this ruckus, no one is quite sure about whose side he is on, but, that does not deter him to actively participate in the proceedings. A happy ending is reached when everyone goes home after paying chai-paani money to the indulgent cop. A not so happy ending is when the politicians and religious heads jump in and something called an Inquiry starts. We are like that only.
 
Inquiries Galore. Inquiries are taken rather seriously in India. I’d go so far as to venture that these are best job opportunities for retired judges, politicians and bureaucrats. The purposes of Inquiry? Well, it is rather simple – an inquirer does exactly what a court writer used to do in the reign of kings, that is, to record history as viewed by the king. In a democracy, however, the ruler can’t go on forever. So, as soon as the ruler changes, thirty thousand or so pages of this recorded history (called Inquiry Report) is consigned to flames and a new Inquiry on Inquiry is constituted. Meanwhile, most of the people who are subject or victims of the earlier Inquiry either are either themselves consigned to flames or become powerful government officials. The cycle goes on and on. We are like that only.
 
People’s Sentiments. Whether or not, in India, law, rules, ethics and procedures are to be respected, there is something called ‘people’s sentiments’ that is always to be respected. So whilst on one hand we earmark crores of public money for cleaning Ganga or Yamuna, we respect people’s sentiments to continue polluting rivers and seas by immersing anything they may consider sacred. Talking about religious sentiments, how ironic it is that we have to display pictures of gods and goddesses on public walls, not to worship them but to somehow stop people from urinating and defecating against the walls? Many still don’t care, realising that their bowel needs are stronger than their spiritual leanings. We do the same for noise during religious festivals. Most of our cities are now close to being un-livable. If the stench does not get you, the noise will. We are like that only.
 
“Agli Baar Chhodenge Nahin”. Whatever you may say about India’s past or present, the future is always bright. After every scam, insult to national pride, failure to do well in sports etc, defeat and despair, we are filled with renewed resolve to tackle it better next time. Many of these hind sights are due to volumes of Inquiry and Investigation Reports. We debate, discuss and argue threadbare every aspect of the unpleasant situation that we have gone through. This takes days and months and years. And then? Nothing changes. We are like that only. Meanwhile, reality changes into fiction and fiction changes into reality. I saw a cartoon in which some of our netas were seen coming out of a cinema hall after seeing Richard Attenborough’s ‘Gandhi’. One of them remarked, “Stupendous really.” And the other one commented, “And I believe it is based on a true story.”

What if ‘Slumdog Millionaire II’ is made in the year 2050, when our GDP is slated to become the highest in the world, and it shows another young Jamal voluntarily falling into shit to get the autograph of Big B’s grandson?

Jai ho!

LOOSE EMOTIONS

This is a repeat of an article I wrote in 2007. Read on:

None of us want to get an attack of Loose Emotions. We are very careful about everything we intake and digest. Indeed, we hope and pray that not only us but no one close to us would have to deal with Loose Emotions. However, every now and then Loose Emotions afflict us and leave us drained out. These can range from something as harmless as our partner’s emotional outburst to a soldier in the border areas going on a shooting spree before putting a bullet in his own head – the very hotbed of loose emotions. Even though, like AIDS and Cancer, Loose Emotions can be fatal, not enough research has been done on it, particularly in the armed forces. Hence, there is an urgent need to look into history, types, causes, symptoms and possible remedies for loose emotions.

Historically, Loose Emotions is world’s oldest known ailment as also the most widespread. It started with Adam and Eve having been shunted out of the Garden of Eden. Presumably in the G of E gods and goddesses coexisted without having to confront Loose Emotions. But as soon as A and E were dropped on earth, they left behind a trail of emotions and we are still finding it difficult to live with them; or, for that matter, without them. The Urdu poets of yore made good name for themselves and a fast buck (no, not really fast buck because most of them like Zafar died penniless) writing about this great dilemma after being afflicted by it: ”Jeena bhi mushkil, marna bhi na aasaan”.

Our greatest epic Mahabharata tells us about the consequences of having suppressed Loose Emotions. Poor Pandavas – one’s heart goes out to them – had to deal with acute sense of injustice and deprivation, chicanery and guile. They knew it was building up but then, as it is now, there was no sure cure for LEs. And one bad day, they had to face the ignominy of having Draupadi being disrobed in front of their eyes. “Enough is enough”, said Y to A, and A to B and so on until even N and S, at their relatively younger age, were overwhelmed by Loose Emotions. The rest is history, and as you know, the only known cure for Loose Emotions, at that time, followed. Loose bodies and blood lay mangled on the battlefield; those who died were rid of it, but, at an exorbitant cost; those who survived were never the same again.

Let’s have a look at the types of Loose Emotions. Like Vitamins, Loose Emotions also have various types. The total types cannot be described in a small article like this. However, let me tell you about some of the prominent ones. The most prominent, without doubt, is an LE called ‘Love’; a four letter word. This is by far the strongest and most harmful virus of LE known to man. Indeed, virtually all other LEs have their origin in this Gangotri (river-head) of all emotions. Many a time, one is blissfully unaware that the virus has penetrated one’s defences until it starts spreading its tentacles within and without. Initially, the victim’s pulse beat quickens, and blood pressure rises. Soon, one’s eyesight gets affected. Many see stars and become stony eyed but those afflicted badly complain that they cannot see anything except the objects of their love. This stage is known as ‘blind in love’. The victim has only a few more days to live but, under the influence of Love, his other senses also get blinded and he starts thinking that he and his beloved can live by themselves and forever. The really bad cases of this LE ultimately chuck themselves in front of approaching trains or from a cliff or hang from ropes until they are rid of it and of course, of precious life, which is another four letter word.

Slightly less potent but even more dangerous is an LE called ‘Hate’. Many of its symptoms are similar to ‘Love’; for example, rush of blood, loss of vision and so on. But, in this case, the victim wants to do things to others rather than to himself. Hence, throwing in front of approaching train or off from a cliff is not for the one afflicted by it but for the object of hate. Historically, on top of the list was a character called General Dyer. He was afflicted by it so badly that his barrage of Hate felled all those who had gathered for a peaceful gathering at Jalianwala Bagh. (One would think baghs, that is gardens, are ideally suited for (e)motions of a different kind – behind the trees, that is, but GD proved everyone wrong). Currently, after competition in the form of Saddam Hussein has been eliminated by the reverse of Indian Rope Trick, a man called Osama Bin Laden and another called Bush are the world’s leading victims of this LE. By and large, the whole world has divided itself into two camps: those who pray for OBL and those who follow in the footsteps of GB. Amongst the followers of GB, in a ‘sanatorium’ called Abu Gharaib, a female patient called Lyndie was so consumed by this type of LE that when pictures of her having Loose Emotions were released in the media, many others had loose emotions just watching her perform another version of rope trick.

The leading Loose Emotion in the women’s world is one called ‘Jealousy’ or ‘Envy’. A television company called Onida, knowing that ‘television’ is to the woman, in the same manner as ‘golf’ is to the man, advertised its product primarily for the females by cashing on this LE called ‘Envy’. Many a man was duped into buying the telly for his wife lest she should go and chuck stones at the neighbour’s, thereby making him (the man and not the neighbour) pay for not one but two of them.

Yet another type of LE is ‘Anger’ or ‘Rage’. Fortunately, it is easily controlled both by self-help and by help from others. A man, for example, sent a telegram home that he was returning home on coming Monday. When he arrived he found his wife in bed with another man. Naturally, the emotion called ‘Anger’ was let loose until the mother-in-law investigated and triumphantly came up with the plausible reason for her daughter’s conduct, “John, she didn’t get the telegram”. Needless to say ‘Anger’ subsided.

By far, the most amusing (and consuming) LE is one called ‘Pity’ or more specifically ‘Self Pity’. This virus is instantly released when we perceive that someone has got the better of us. Outwardly, there are no signs that a person has been afflicted by it except that the person becomes quieter than ever before. The virus lies buried within the victim until released with the help of alcohol at the Club or the Mess or at an unsuspecting friend’s place. Amongst all the words that are released, two words ‘If Only’ are uttered over and over again. For example, “If only I had sucked up like A, B or C does, I would have been an Admiral by now. If only.” Ladies react totally differently to men when afflicted by it. Their eyes release a substance called ‘Tears’, which they have in large quantities. Whereas men afflicted by it may or may not be heard, women shedding tears in self-pity have to be heard.

Lastly, let’s have a look at the possible remedies. Lest this article should become very long, let’s come straight to the armed forces. For quite some time, the only way in which people in the armed forces dealt with Loose Emotions was to deny their existence. Let’s say A had a bout of depression and he approached B, his superior, to ask for counsel. B would immediately call a specialist in the cure of LEs called Master Chief GI and ask that A should be helped to get rid of this feeling of depression by going around the parade ground five times, preferably with rifle held up high. For good effect B would add, “And Master Chief Sahib, if the feeling still persists with A, please bring him to me.”

But things are a changing. These days it is not rare to find superior officers and sailors take into account the emotional setup of their juniors and encourage them to release emotions every once in a while. Of course many a times the disease is passed from the junior to the superior.

Meditation is a fairly effective method of getting rid of Loose Emotions and if Swami Ramdev is to be believed the only sure cure. My own personal remedy is to think of how adversely life would be affected if I persist with LEs. For example, I keep reminding myself that there is no situation so bad in which you can’t lose your temper and make it worse.

In the end, if you ever get attacked by Loose Emotions, tell a friend about it. It helps. And, if someone close to you is bitten by the bug, be a friend.

I FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST – DID I?

It was nearly thirty-seven years back that I headed towards the Naval Academy at Cochin to join the Navy as an officer in the Executive Branch. I was to be part of the Eighth Integrated Course, equivalent of the Forty-sixth Course at NDA. Two years before that, I could have joined the Forty-second Course at NDA but even though I was in the merit list, my father did not permit me. He was of the rigid view that military was only for the brainless and the loony. His view, though coarse, found an echo in the writings of eminent authors of that era. I was fond of reading many of these since I was really fascinated by the navy. Taste this:

“The navy is for the mad. The mad and the loony. If you are not mad and find yourself in the Navy, you can only do well by pretending to be one.”

One reason that I could join when I did was that in addition to becoming a little more independent (a totally misleading word as compared to today’s scenario with children; independent then meant that you could float in a degree of false freedom until your parents would pull the plug), I was First in the Merit in the Indian Navy Entrance Exam.

I was awarded the Silver Medal for Academic Excellence when I passed out of the Naval Academy. Many years later I found the medal hidden away in my dad’s things. When I questioned him he said something about the misplaced pride that I could get by displaying it when I was merely “andhon mein kana raja” (a one-eyed king in the land of the blind). JP my younger brother did my father proud by becoming an academician (he is now an Associate Professor at the Georgetown University). Many years later I graduated from the Staff College with the Lentaigne; but, I am sure my father would have held that too with equal disdain.

The navy had a quaint way of looking at things and had equally esoteric language. “Aye aye, Sir”, “One to six heave”, cabins, bunks, starboard, coxswain, “very good” “avast lowering”, and “marry the falls” sounded strange then. To this list sailors had added their own, eg, “Contact designated as Reno Alpha”, “go by walk” and “Dinning Room”. Some are strange even today, eg, “Officers’ Married Accommodation” gives the impression of inanimate buildings having tied the knot.

The navy, I discovered, abhorred long words and expressions as these were considered totally unnecessary. During our parade training, the Chief GI Harbhajan Singh had only to bellow, through clenched teeth, the order “Peeeeeeeee” and we soon understood that he wanted us to “press your heels”. Senior Cadet A Mehrotra could spend an entire afternoon ragging me by using just one mono-syllabic word “so?”. Opening dialogues of an entire afternoon’s conversation in his cabin, whereat I performed such physical feats as “front-rolls” and “on your haunches”, went like this:

A: Cadet Ravi, I asked you to report to me at 1400 hrs. Now it is ten seconds past 1400 hrs. What do you have to say? (He was visibly exhausted by using these long sentences but these were the last ones he used that afternoon).

Me: Sir, I was going after lunch to my roo..er..cabin, and I slipped.

A: So?

Me: I broke my leg, Sir.

A: So?

Me: I was rushed to the hospital, Sir.

A: So?

Me: They took an X-Ray, Sir, and my leg has been put in a restraining bandage for a week.

A: So?

He indicated to me with his hand the now familiar sign for front-roll and I pointed at the leg-in-bandage. He was enraged beyond words and his lips were rounded to utter again the familiar mono-syllable. I had no choice and wincing in pain I started doing the front-roll. As I did the first one his expression changed from interrogative to joyous exclamation…”So!” I also discovered that afternoon that Sr Cadet A M also knew more about the self healing qualities of my leg than the doctors at INHS Sanjivini. As I emerged from his cabin two hours and many acrobatics later it surprised me to know that the ruddy leg pained the least in comparison to many other parts of my body.

That afternoon I silently conjured in my mind a quick and sure cure for a bad headache: ‘Hit yourself on the foot with a hammer’. Even for complex afflictions such as depression and bulimia the Navy has excellent cures.

A few years after I joined I saw a very powerful movie called ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’. Thirty-seven years after joining the loony bunch as I woke up this morning, the morning of my first day as a retired officer I asked myself if I had actually flown over the Cuckoo’s Nest or lost my beans or marbles forever. It felt like a badly aching tooth having been finally pulled out; you not only miss the tooth but also the slow ache it used to cause. For many days after it is pulled out the tongue keeps going back to the place where it used to be and rekindle the pain.

Oh, how we used to do the countdown, as we stood on the Cadet Training Ship Delhi with a six-inch shell each on either shoulder. It was called the DLTGH – Days Left to Go Home. On my farewell, thirty-four years later, when the question of going home arose I had to acknowledge that the navy was the home and somewhere during my time in the navy DLTGH ceased to have its earlier meaning.

It is then that I started asking myself if I really belonged or belong. Subbu told me in the boat from Karanja after my farewell party that as compared to the Army we did not really have a sense of belonging. But that’s always been the lure of the seas. Remember Robert Browning’s Cristina?

“… That the Sea feels” –no “strange yearning
That such souls have, most to lavish
Where there’s chance of least returning”.

The Navy is also probably closer to Life. This kind of detachment is manifested in the words of the old Hindi song:

“Khatam huye din us dali per jis per tera basera tha,
Aaj yahan aur kal ho wahan yeh jogi wala phera tha,
Yeh teri jaagir nahin thi, chaar ghadi ka dera tha.
Kisko pata ab is nagri mein kab ho tera aana..
Chal udhja re panchhi ke ab yeh des hua begana.”

I was to become a Communicator – a kind of independent choice given to me by my Captain on Himgiri as my father was used to giving me. I understood the importance of my job through the ditty of the Railway Signaler:

It is not my job to run the train,
The whistle I cannot blow,
It is not my place to say how far,
The train’s allowed to go.
It is not my job to shoot off steam,
Not even to clang the bell,
But let the damn thing jump the track
And see who catches hell!

I came across many an ASW or Gunnery or ND officer who could have done wonders in their tasks if only the signal had reached them in time! I do not want to sound parochial but I have a feeling that your very character changes depending upon which branch you join! As a Communicator you learn to take all things in your stride because the buck stops at you; you have no one else to blame. For example, when I handed over the P&C File to Subbu I realized that as compared to my predecessors I had made nil letters to higher authorities on issues concerning officers and sailors.

Somewhere along, I cannot place when, the Navy claimed me totally. It did not matter who thought what of me; I became consumed by the naval ethos. I thoroughly enjoyed working for the Navy. A senior officer exhorted me at this stage to “let my hair down and relax”. I was reminded of following passage from ‘Lust For Life’, the biographical novel of Vincent Van Gogh:

“He had an excellent ability to paint. He’d get tired, he’d paint some more; he’d get fatigued he’d paint some more; he’d get exhausted he’d paint some more. After that he would be relaxed and could go back to his painting.”

A person was climbing a hill with a guide. Half way through he was in a thick forest with thorny bushes and sharp rocks. The going was tough. Exasperated he turned to the guide and said, “Where is that wonderful scenery that you were talking about?” And the guide said, “You are standing in it now, which you will see when you reach the top.”

Today, when I have detached myself from the thick jungles of day-to-day goings on in the navy I look back and really marvel at the scenery. I have no desire to fly over the cuckoo’s nest. The loony bunch is family, for heaven’s sake.

“I have come home, dad. I belong to the navy simply because I cannot belong anywhere else. Not now, after seven and thirty years. And dad many of them know words other than mono-syllables. Indeed, yesterday at the end of my farewell Billoo used more words for me than I would have used for myself.”

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