PROF VIJAYAN AND THE DIGNITY OF DEATH

Sometimes, television journalism sucks. It's filled with inequalities, disasters, corruption, malice and viciousness that men are capable of. But there's one cardinal rule that no journo breaks. And that has to do with death. Everyone, absolutely everyone, has the right to a dignified death. And that's exactly why Professor MN Vijayan's death and the coverage of it was such a sham. It was treated like a television spectacle by the national media. With headlines like "Camera par maut" and "Aakhri saas, camere par", the Hindi channels threw out of the window any semblance of decency that has to be given to a dying man. Leave alone a renowned intellectual like Vijayan Maash.

This is what happened with me. And I am still cringing in shame. I was called by a producer from my sister channel with the seemingly innocuous question. "Zakka, do you speak Malayali." I had half a mind to tell him, “uh..it’s not Malayali, it’s Malayalam mate.” But you can’t do much about other people’s ignorance, can you? But this was just the beginning of the dark hole of incapacity that I was being led into. I reached the PCR from where the show was being directed. It had the top editorial brass of the channel giving directions to the anchor. Not a soul, not one, knew who this man was or why his death would leave such a void. From my limited knowledge of the man, I had to tell them that this guy deserved more respect than what he was being subjected to.

Later a friend called up from Kerala and said the Malayalam channels didn’t fare too better either. They too treated it more like a tamasha, for a large part of the afternoon. It was only after viewers started calling in and started heaving abuses that better sense prevailed.

The man maybe gone, but the relevance of the issues he raised still lives on. In fact it lies at the heart of the ideological divide within the CPM. Professor Vijayan cried hoarse at the foreign money that was being bombarded into God’s Own Country in the name of development. With his death, the voice of dissent within the Left has become feebler. And less reasonable.

Prof Vijayan was a hounded man in his last days. He had a slew of defamation cases filed against him after he was thrown out as Editor of Deshabhimani, the CPM’s mouthpiece. But there was a façade of justice, as the Kerala High Court had acquitted him in one such case, just a week before his death. He was addressing his first press conference after the acquittal, when death came calling. A quote of George Bernard Shaw became his famous last words. Fitting, for a man who started his career as a literary critic. Rest in Peace Vijayan Maashe.

THE THREE-HOUR DYNAMITE

Now that the Twenty20 world cup has been pocketed, the victory rallies ended and the champagne stopped flowing, it’s time to sit down and think. Think about what this shortest format of the game is all about and what it holds for the future. It’s also time to destroy some long held myths about this three-hour cricketing dynamite.

Myth # 1 – This is a batsman’s game. If there’s one thing this T20 world cup has exposed, it’s this. This is as much a bowler’s game as it is a batter’s. India won its last three matches, the ones against South Africa, Australia and Pakistan, not because they posted ungettable targets, but because they took wickets at regular intervals. And unlike in the fifty over game, in a Twenty20, every time a wicket falls, the pressure on the incoming batsman increases manifold. And this is at all stages of the game. In the final, if Pakistan were say, six down, as opposed to nine down, they would have won the match, hands tied and eyes closed.

Take the entire tournament, for instance. There were a total of 348 wickets taken in 27 matches. That’s an average of one wicket, every 19 deliveries, which is damn good. The better ones picked up a wicket, once every twelve deliveries. Also, on ten occasions bowlers returned with four-fors. That’s a fair indication that T20 is not a batsman’s game after all.

Myth # 2 – This game is for the big-hitters and the sloggers. Two of the top three run getters in this tournament, Gautam Gambhir and Misbah-ul-Haq, are not the biggest hitters of the cricket ball, by any reckoning. The highest run-getter was Mathew Hayden, who before the World Cup didn’t play a single Twenty20 game. And Matt too is more a clean striker and less a slogger.

Myth # 3 – This game is only about fours and sixes. In the final against Pakistan, out of a 157 that India made, only 76 runs were made in fours and sixes. Take away five extras, and you’ll see that more runs were made by running between the wickets, than by crashing the ball into the billboards. Take even the highest scoring game of the tournament, India versus England. 418 runs were scored in that game. A total of 184 runs were scored in ones, twos and threes. That’s about 45 percent of the total runs, which is ample indication that this game is as much about the grafters, as it is about the butchers.

Myth # 4 – This game is for youngsters. Youth rules. The sight of a victorious young Indian team may re-instate the fact that this is a game for the Gen X-ers, but there are some sporadic old fogies who shone through. Sanath Jayasuriya at one point in the tournament was the highest run getter. He’s 38. The man who eventually became the highest run getter, Mathew Hayden will be 36 in a month’s time. The man who got Pakistan, so near yet so far, Misbah-ul-Haq, is 33. The second highest wicket taker in the tournament is Stuart Clark, who’s just turned 32. Like Mark Twain said “age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.” And cricket my friend, is as much brain as it’s brawn. So here’s to the new baby in the cricketing fraternity. May you live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths.

BATTLE OF THE MYTHS

The old fox is at it once again. You may or may not agree with Karunanidhi's world view of things, but you cannot grudge the man for an innate sense of time and place. No one in my experience of covering politicians and their ilk, plays to the galleries as often and as well as this man. So for most people, on this side of the Vindhyas, Kalaignar's statement attributing Ram to a drunkard and questioning his engineering capabilities, could amount to heresy. But for me, it's just a reflection of the man and his politics.

This is not the first time that Ram has been used as a punching bag. For proponents of the Dravidian movement, like Karunanidhi, Ram was a symbol of Aryan dominance over the native Dravidian. In fact in the forties and fifties, there was a very popular drama doing the rounds of towns in Tamil Nadu called Keemayana. It was an interpretation of the sacred epic that turned everything in it, on its head. So Ram became a drunkard, Sita became a wanton woman and Ravana was celebrated as a Dravidian Hero. It was thrashed by the Brahmins and lapped up by the lower castes.

But this interpretation by EV Ramaswamy was not iconoclastic. There were numerous interpretations of the Ramayana, which celebrated Ravana as a hero. The most notable among them is by a Tamil Rennaisance saint named Ramalingaswami who denounced Valmiki's interpretation of Rama as the do-gooder and Ravana as all evil. There are even Jain interpretations of the Ramayana in their Prati Puranas, which question the central premise of the epic. EVR's Keemayana though, ended up being the most popular.

A politician's audience defines his politics. Karunanidhi's audience will lap up every bit of the Ram-trashing that he's indulging in. Not that the average Tamilian is not religious. In fact, Tamil society is one of the most visibly religious parts of India. You'll find more men sporting the vibudhi and more women donning the kungumam in Chennai or Coimbatore than in any other city in India. But the Tamilian's idea of Hinduism is different from the mainstream Hinduism, defined by the BJP. For him, Ram is not a deified incarnation of Vishnu. Instead, he's a twice born Kshatriya who was an upholder of Brahminical caste norms in society. Someone who killed Sambuk the Sudra, because he did penance. This makes him a figure of resent for the average non-Brahmin Tamilian who's idea of Hinduism is built on a strong dose of anti-Brahminism. Moreover, Dravidian politics has always thrived on a mid-level-lower caste identity rather than a monolithic Hindu identity. Therefore it's only natural that a Tamilian is suspicious of the BJP's idea of a homogenous Hindu ethos.

Moreover, the Sethusamudram iself is seen as a symbol of Tamil pride. Forget, the developmental aspects of the project. The Tamils believe that their Golden Period, which is known as the Sangam period, was under a unified landmass that comprised of the Deccan plateau, Ceylon, Madagascar, Australia and Antartica. And this piece of land is described as Kumari Kandam. Two massive floods are believed to have sunk the Kumari Kandam. The two Sangams, Mudhal Sangam and Idai Sangam are believed to have been written in between these two floods. For the Dravidians, Kumari Kandam or the cradle of civilization is the origin of human languages in general, and Tamil, in particular. For the Dravidianists, the construction of the Sethusamudram Canal comes closest to a modern realisation of the myth of Kumari Kandam. Thus, it’s this politics of nostalgia and the loss of a golden past that Karunanidhi is trying to stoke. Ironically, it’s one myth versus another. The BJP is attacking Karunanidhi for debunking their myth of the Ramar Sethu, even as he propagates his own myth of Kumari Kandam. As always, the old fox has the last kill.

CAPTAIN COURAGEOUS

There are a few myths regarding the resignation of Rahul Dravid that need to be cleared. If anyone (most notably, sports journalists) comes up to you and says, I saw it coming; then you know he’s fibbing. Fibbing through his teeth because no one saw this coming. Not even the selectors. Not even the mandarins of the BCCI. Not even Rahul’s own agent Lokesh Sharma. Such is the man that Rahul Dravid is. Intensely private. A thorough gentleman.

Just a day before the resignation, the BCCI had this star studded affair announcing the launch of it’s new Twenty 20 league. And there were about 200 odd journalists who descended upon that PC. Not a soul there, knew this was coming. Isn’t this ample proof that Rahul Dravid was not interested in the media. If the man wanted to, he could have gone to press first and then informed his bosses in the BCCI. And take my word for it, a lot many Indian captains have done that in the past. The Board was almost invariably, the last one to know. Typical of the man, Rahul makes his decision known to the Board President and goes off on a holiday to the jungles. Thank God for places where cell phones are still unreachable!

The other myth that needs to be busted is this. That he resigned because of differences within the members of his team. Now proponents of this theory will cite the examples of Sourav Ganguly and Zaheer Khan in England speaking in direct contrast to their captain. Why don’t we get this straight? The Indian cricket team is like a private company with eleven employees. You don’t have to love everyone in office nor do you have to agree with each of them. But, all eleven work towards the profit of the organisation. At the end of the day, it’s just a job. Zaheer and Sourav were stating their personal choices. That, in no way makes it, ‘irreconcilable differences’ within the team.

So why did Rahul resign? Well I’m not an expert on this, nor am I close confidant of his. But being a self-confessed fan of Rahul’s, I think it has something to do with the word ‘Legacy’. Those who know Rahul, know that he’s a stickler for history. Twenty years from now, will we remember Rahul Dravid, the batsman or Rahul Dravid, the captain? Chances are, we’ll remember him as a great batsman. And I’m sure Rahul would not want anything to tarnish that reputation. It is true that his batting had been affected because of his captaincy. From the early sixties it had come down to the mid forties in tests. But that’s happened even to the greatest of the greats. Sir Viv, Steve Waugh and Sachin Tendulkar. For all his Bradmanesque achievements, Dravid too is human after all.

There’s an old saying in Malayalam. "Swaram nanaayi irikumbam pattu niruthenam." Meaning, you have to stop singing when your voice is at its peak. Rahul Dravid is one of the few Indian captains who’s resigned after a high, leading the Indian team to a series victory in England after 2 decades. Most of them are sacked ignominiously. Which leaves us with the one positive development to come out of this whole fiasco. It will give us back, Rahul Dravid the batsman. So here’s to more Kolkatas(180*), Adelaides(233) and Headingleys(148). Welcome back Rahul ‘The Wall’ Dravid.

CONFESSIONS OF A TV ANCHOR

It’s always a nice feeling as a television anchor, if you manage to piss off a guest so badly, that he walks out of your show. It’s a television moment. Something of that sort happened last week, when the guardian of right wing Hindutva, Dr. Praveen Togadia walked out of my show. Apparently, Doctor Saheb (sorry for the politically incorrect reference) was irked at the aggressive questioning of the anchor, that he found it difficult to defend his stated public position.

This is not the first time it’s happened to me though. As far as I can remember, the first person to walk out of my show was a retired Air Force Commodore. I think it was the Air Force day or something. We had a special show on it. And just two days prior to that, another MiG 21 had crashed. As usual, I rubbed it in to the Commodore, that the Indian Air Force needed to get its act right. Being the force ka aadmi that he was, he took offence to my questions. The repartees lasted for about five-seven minutes, after which I ended the chat. And this is an old trick. Whenever you’ve pissed off a guest, the best way to end it is by saying.."Mr.X, you have defended yourself very well. It was a pleasure talking to you." And you extend a handshake. At this point, most guests mutter something under their breath and quite limply offer their hand for a shake. Not Commodore Saheb. After all, he was a force ka aadmi. With the straightest of faces, he says.."I’m afraid it was not such a pleasure talking to you, young man." And in one clean motion, rips his lapel mike off his coat, and walks away, huffing and puffing.

Then there are times, when you don’t exactly come out victorious. Like the time Pooja Bhatt made shredded mincemeat out of me, when I interviewed her, on the day of release of one of her movies. The mistake I made (and I promised myself that day, I’ll never do it again) was that I didn’t watch her movie. I still remember my panel producer say to me after the chat.."Arre, yeh tho tumhe seven course meal banakar kha li." Well, that’s the way life is. Sometimes you feel like an emperor, sometimes you end up feeling like shit. Life is a great leveler. And sometimes, a bitch.

A lot of people have asked me, why do you be so aggressive with your guests. I guess the answer lies in what the great BBC anchor, Jeremy Paxman, once said about the guests on his show. “I know this guy is a lying bastard. Why is he lying to me and how do I show the world that he is?” Although I don’t think of my guests in the same slanderous terms, it’s a method of interviewing I have followed. And not everyone likes it. I don’t expect them to either. Sorry Togadia Saheb.

A TALE OF THREE CITIES

Yet another Southern city has been attacked. And the media has gone on its familiar old lament of how the South is becoming a soft target for terrorists. Frankly, as somebody who comes from the South, this reading of the twin blasts in Hyderabad, is not only stale and redundant, it’s yet another classic case of how the media missed the tree for the woods. If only we looked more carefully we would’ve spotted a rather interesting sociological phenomenon emerging within Hyderabad itself. It has to do with the contrasting responses to the Mecca Masjid blasts and the twin blasts on August 25th. But first, you need to know what makes Hyderabad unique to understand it’s differing responses to the two blasts.

Hyderabad is a tale of three cities. Nowhere in India can you see the past, present and future as starkly as you can in Hyderabad. There’s the old city, which is living on the romantic notion of a glorious past. It has the beautiful Charminar and other minarets. Then there’s the present, in ample display in Secunderabad with its cantonment area, the plush malls and also the commercial district. And then there’s the future in Cyberabad, with its gigantic steel and glass IT offices, which represent the contours of an imagined future.

The contrast in these three cities is integral to the definition of Hyderabad. The new city is always in a hurry, on the move, building a future full of possibilities. The old city is stuck in a time warp. Old timers lament about the good old days, when the Nizam used to rule Hyderabad. For them, nothing came closer to utopia than the King’s reign. So while the new city races ahead at Kbps speeds, this part has been largely untouched by the fruits of liberalisation. In these bylanes, you’ll probably hear more Deccani Urdu, than you’ll hear Telugu, Hindi and English put together. You’ll see more practioners of Unani and Ayurveda, than allopathic doctors. Women here wear burqas and not churidars or sarees.

And this is precisely why the responses to the two blasts have been different. When the Mecca Masjid blasts happened, for most Hyderabadis living outside the Old City, it was like any other terrorist attack. It could have happened in Mumbai, Malegaon or Kashmir, for all they cared. But when Lumbini Park and Gokul Chat were attacked, it was like terror had hit home. Suddenly Mana Hyderabad was under attack. These two spots in many ways epitomise the easy going and laidback spirit of the Hyderabadi. And it was this spirit that was attacked. For most people in the Old City, this was the much needed, rude wake up call, to those on the other side that anybody could be a victim to the dogma of terror. That they don’t have to be lone sufferers in this meaningless and misguided battle.

The Muslim community of the Old city has a distinct regional identity. Their food, their dress, even their language sets them apart from fellow Muslims in any other part of the country. When the state of Hyderabad was trifurcated, soon after independence, the Muslims of Marathwada joined the then Bombay state. But they counted for little among the Muslim elite of Bombay who boasted of the likes of Mohammad Ali Jinnah within their ranks. The same happened to those who joined Karnataka. On the other hand, the Muslims of Hyderabad remained in Hyderabad, the seat of their rule. But they remained concentrated in the Old City in a ghetto environment. Their strength in the capital city, and their marginal presence elsewhere in the state, made them convenient pawns in the games politicians played. As a result a Muslim leadership arose in the form of the Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen or the MIM. The MIM established itself as a right of center party and soon started acting like the guardian of the Old City Muslims. It ran schools, hospitals and even community centers. But soon the MIM started being perceived as an elitist party by the poor Muslims. Today there’s a power struggle happening in Hyderabad to control the Muslim mind space. And that has made the politics of the city, shriller. This provides for a perfect cover for anti-national elements owing allegiance to Pakistani or Bangladeshi terror groups to operate behind the veil of patriotic and well meaning Muslims of the Old City. Fact is that Hyderabad is a perfect symbol of how selective the fruits of liberalization have been. Unless the disparities between a majority of the Old City residents and those in the newer parts are reduced, Hyderabad will continue to be a hapless victim to terror.

Fortunately though, there are signs of hope. The walls of the walled city cannot block the winds of change. Today, young Muslim boys and girls of the Old City are eager to have an English education so that they can get good jobs. They want to be in Cyberabad, in plush IT and BPO companies. They want to own houses, buy cars and lead a good life. And for the first time, they can realistically think of doing that without having to migrate to the Gulf. The wheel has come full circle. The Muslims of the Old City have to choose once again between pride in their history and hopes for their future. Question is, will their leadership stand up to the test?

P.S.: A certain Congress MP was overheard in the corridors of Parliament seeking cold comfort from the number of Muslims killed in the twin blasts (nearly half of them are from the minority community). At least, Hyderabad will be spared of riots.

ARABIAN TALES FOR THE COMRADES

At a time when the Communists in Delhi are threatening to pull the plug on the central government, a movie is not the first thing that comes to mind. But then, this past week, I caught a refreshing flick on the travails of a self-confessed Commie. Arabikatha is a hardcore political film and a bloody good one, at that.

It’s the tale of Cuba Mukundan, a dyed in the wool Communist party worker. As is evident from his name, the protagonist is a lover of all things Cuban. His role model is Fidel Castro. He also oozes admiration for a Chinese girl. But before that, a combination of circumstances in his hometown Chemanoor forces him to migrate to the Gulf (or gelf as we Mals call it). And he’s forced like millions of his Mallu brethren to do hard labour and earn a living. The thinking-debating Communist gives way for the toiling-slogging manual labourer. He learns life’s hard lessons, the only way they can be learnt. The hard way.

Sreenivasan as Mukundan is not at his best, yet I can't think of any other man pulling off this role. Not even the so-called mega stars of Mollywood, Mammootty and Mohanlal. It says something about both the actor and the industry he works in, that a comedian like Sreenivasan can carry the weight of an entire film on his shoulders. I can't think of too many parallels in Indian cinema, except maybe Nagesh when he paired with KB for films like Edhir Neechal and Server Sundaram.

It's inevitable that comparisons will be made to Sreenivasan's other famous Commie movie, Sandesham. But then Kotapalli Prabhakaran and Cuba Mukundan are as different as cod and caviar. Prabhakaran is a manipulative, conniving, fair-weather Communist who prefers to be a think tank, as opposed to going through the rigours of organised labour. Mukundan on the other hand, is a dedicated Communist who believes in everything the party stands for, including its pet hate, Coca Cola. Sandesham as a movie had much more lighter moments than Arabikatha. It was far more irreverential and precisely for this reason, entertaining. Arabikatha is a whole lot more heavier, yet at the same time, it doesn't get preachy.

It’s a must watch though for Comrade Karat and his friends. The message is simple. Ideals and ideologies are fine. But it takes a lot more to navigate through the cross roads of life. It requires a very essential ingredient called pragmatism. Politics after all is not a JNU debate.

FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS

It’s the silly season in politics. The Presidential election is over. The Bombay Blasts verdict has concluded. And the nuclear deal has been signed, sealed and delivered. So when someone asked me the other day what the next big political story is going to be, I had to wreck my brains quite a bit. And I came up with one. Narendra Modi’s electoral defeat. That to me is going to be the next big story in the Great Indian political jamboree.

Imagine the amplitude and resonance, such an event would have. The poster boy of the Sangh Parivar’s Hindutva philosophy is made to eat crow at the hustings. For the jholewallahs and the so-called secularists, it would be a reason to celebrate from the rooftops. For the tens of thousands who were affected by the riots, it will be cursory justice. But for people like me it will be the ultimate affirmation of the efficacy of our electoral system. That after all, there’s no place for despots in a democracy.




Here’s why Narendrabhai’s days in the hot seat are numbered. There has been open rebellion against him. Five of his MLAs, including his one-time Home Minister have been suspended from the party. Two major communities of Gujarati society, the Koli Patels and the Patidars are highly disillusioned with Modi and his government. And the final cut. His own brethren in the VHP and Bajrang Dal have sworn that they will not campaign for him.

But more than any of these, Modi’s defeat will be caused by simple electoral dynamics. The 2002 election result was an abberation. Something that was facilitated by the riots. At first look, it may seem like the BJP scored a landslide. After all, 126 seats, a two-thirds majority in an assembly of 180 is an avalanche of sorts. But there’s more to it than meets the eye. If you break Gujarat into the four regions of Saurashtra, South, North and Central, you’ll notice that the BJP had gained largely in Central and North. It has a vote swing of 17 and 8 percent in these two regions. Contrast this with South and Saurashtra, where the party’s vote share went down by 8 and 3 percent. So what explains the BJP’s phenomenal success in North and Central Gujarat?

Central and North Gujarat were the worst affected by the riots. Districts like Ahmedabad, Baroda, Mehsana, Dahod, Panchmahals, Anand and Kaira fall in this region and that’s where the impact of the riots was felt most. There were a total of 65 riot-affected constituencies in Gujarat. Of these the BJP won more than 50. And that is what will make the difference between the Gujarat of 2002 and the Gujarat of 2007. The bell tolls for Mr. Modi.

HAS SOUTH INDIAN CINEMA ARRIVED?

The title of this post may seem a bit tenuous. When was south Indian cinema lost for it to be discovered? When was it relegated, for it to be brought to the foreground now? It's easily the most visible and popular form of culture in any of the four southern states. It’s ingrained in the people’s consciousness. Just like masala dosa or Kanjeevaram silk.

Then again, South Indian cinema was always considered a poor cousin to Bollywood. I reckon this was largely due to better marketing by filmmakers in Bombay. Bollywood has this great hype machine working for it. And thanks to all this hype, a false impression has been gaining ground, especially among foreigners taking an interest in our cinema. That Bollywood is Indian cinema and Indian cinema is Bollywood. Malayalam Mega Star Mammootty raised a stink at last year's IIFA awards and rightfully so. Bollywood represents Hindi cinema. And that is only one part of Indian cinema.

On an average around a thousand odd movies are released in India every year. Of which, Hindi cinema makes less than 300. South Indian cinema makes close to 700. How about the number of theatres? India has just under13000 movie halls. Andhra Pradesh alone has about 3000 of them. Tamil Nadu has another 2500. The technical quality of an average South Indian film is far superior to an average Bollywood flick. And here I mean things like cinematography, editing and effects. These are universal and not subjective. Some of the finest cameramen and editors in Bollywood have come from the Deccan. Yet, South Indian cinema is consigned to a lesser existence.

But now within the space of a month, two big-ticket releases have changed that perception. Sivaji and Shankar Dada Zindabad. It’s perhaps the first time that the national media has taken such a huge interest in cinema from beyond the Vindhyas. And it’s purely because of the hyperbole built around these films. The images of Rajni fans bathing his posters in milk or Chiru fans throwing confetti in the theatre, does make people in this neck of the woods, sit up and take notice. Rajnikant and Chiranjeevi didn’t have to lift a finger for the publicity of their films. They are learning the same tricks that their Bollywood cousins have mastered. That fine art called marketing.

Bollywood has for long assumed an infallible superiority over cinema from other languages. But if Sivaji eats into the revenues of a YashRaj production like Jhoom Barabar Jhoom, then you know the equations are being tilted. Like noted columnist Sadanand Menon puts it..'We may not have created Deewar, lekin hamare paas Rajnikant hai.'

DOCTORED DETENTION

"Would you lend a SIM card to a cousin of yours?" It seemed like an innocuous question, coming from my panel producer. "If you were leaving a country and if there was plenty of talk time left in it?", he continued. "Why not?", I retorted. "And if your cousin went on to plot a terror attack, with you having no clue about it, would that also make you guilty of terror?" I knew what he was getting at. Whichever way you look at it, that's all Mohammad Haneef is guilty of. Of lending a SIM card to his cousin just before he left the UK for Australia, thanks to a new job. Does that make him a terrorist? And does that warrant solitary confinement for 23 hours a day in a dark prison cell? I'm not so sure.

There are a couple of myths about terrorism that are being bandied about in the aftermath of this botched up attack.

One of the most oft-asked questions is this. How can educated Muslims do this? After all don't most terrorists fall under the blanket of misguided youth from conflict prone regions who have no access to education? Aren't they the ones who become easy pawns for evil terror mongers? Nothing could be further from the truth than this. Osama bin Laden, the world's most dreaded terrorist is himself a civil engineer. His number two man Ayman al-Zawahiri is a doctor from Egypt. Some of the main conspirators and exponents of 9/11 studied in Hamburg University. In fact they were referred to as the Hamburg Cell, which constituted the core of the perpetrators, Mohammad Atta, Marwan al-Shehi and Ramzi Binalshibh. Education was and will never be an insurance against terror. Terrorism of the Al-qaeda variety is a clash of two different worldviews. It's an ideological battle. Not a battle of deprivation.

The other recurring question is this. How can boys from Namma Bangalore be involved in this? How can a city which symbolises the best that globalisation and what the western world can offer, produce advocates of terror? Honestly, the Bangalore bit in this case is just incidental. These boys could have been from Gumidipoondi or Bagdogra or Dharamsala. Territorial boundaries cannot stymie the flow of terror. The global jihad does not recognise local identities and cultures. The unifying force is just a distorted vision of religion. How else can a boy brought up in Bangalore empathise with a war-torn Palestinian or a battered Iraqi? He probably won't even be able to identify Palestine on a map of the world.

The only way that terror can be stopped is by winning the war of ideas. Today the al-Qaeda is not just a dreaded terror machine. It's much more than that. It's a powerful idea that's prompting hundreds of thousands of young Muslims to give up all, and walk into the throes of death. The problem is that the so-called torch-bearers of the western world are bankrupt of ideas.

Eighty years ago, there was a similar battle of ideas. At that time it was against colonialism. A frail, be-spectacled, old man, wrapped in a loincloth and with a walking stick in hand, found an idea that could take on imperialism. Maybe therein lies the answer.

A REQUIEM FOR THE GARDEN CITY

A lot has been said and written about the plight of Bangalore. Crawling traffic, infrastructure bottlenecks, an apathetic government, Bangalore represents the worst of our civic governance failure. So I shall not go on another all-too familiar diatribe on all the infrastructure ills of India’s silicon valley. That's not what irks me. What I am bothered about are the people. Because people lend character to a city. They define a city. And that's where Bangalore has changed. Just like every other city, I guess. In some cases, irrevocably. It’s no longer that sleepy little town, which was a pleasure to visit. If you were an outsider like me, you went to Bangalore only for two reasons. Either for a holiday or to settle down. Today people come there with stars in their eyes, to ride the great Indian tech boom.

Today, six out of ten persons in Bangalore are from outside. Bangalore has become a city of outsiders. Like an brand-man and an old Bangalorean, Harish Bijoor says, "there are two kinds of Bangaloreans these days. The ones who came here twenty years back, and the ones who’ve come here two to five years back." The problem is Bangalore’s increasingly getting taken over by the new comers. Flashy, yuppie and frankly sometimes, garish. The old Bangalorean’s mild-mannered nature just gets submerged in this collective new-world clamour.

What irks me is that a large number of people (atleast the ones who are most visible and vocal) in Bangalore, have become pseudo. They want to be seen hanging out at certain places simply because it is a hip thing to do. It’s ‘cool’, in their lingo. People pretend to have fun. They’ve become image-conscious and have the money which they need to spend in style. There are too many wannabes hanging around Forum and Garuda. In short, it's what I call the Delhi-fication of Bangalore.

Gone are the days, when hanging out meant eating crispy dosas at MTR or steaming Bissibelle baath at Udupi Krishna Bhavan or simply strolling aound Lal Bagh or Cubbon Park. You could call me a sucker for old world nostalgia, but we went there to eat or stroll and generally have a good time. Not to be seen to be eating or seen to be strolling around. Today, eating out is a lifestyle statement. Going for a movie at PVR is a status symbol. What’s important is where you are eating and what you eat. Not whether it fills your stomach.

I went to a place called Opus when I was in Bangalore. Not a bad place, I must admit. Nice ambience, decent food and way better music than anything you'll get to hear in Delhi. But the people who came there were more Delhiite and less Bangalorean. Fake accents, designer clothes and a swanky attitude to go with it. A friend of mine (an old Bangalorean at that) has a wonderful term that describes these people. 'Fu fu-Shi shi'. Which basically means ‘wannabes’. Bangalore, I'm afraid has become a city of pretenders.

I maybe making too much ado about the natural changes brought to a city’s demography with time. And no city, least of all Bangalore, is immune to the winds of change. But there are larger sociological implications to this growing phenomenon. And sometimes it’s led to violent clashes in a bid to re-territorialize the city. Most recently, when Dr.Rajkumar died, violence engulfed parts of Bangalore. It was as much for the loss of a great cultural icon as it was an assertion by unemployed local youth that they don’t want to be left out of the great Indian dream. That explains the symbols they chose to target..software offices, corporate buildings and government installations. The overall damage to property/business far outweighed the loss of lives. Eight people killed. Forty million dollars of business lost. The same holds true of the 1991 anti-Tamil riots. As much as it was a protest against the Tamils, in the aftermath of the Cauvery tribunal’s interim order, it was also a remonstration at the lack of educational/economic opportunities for indigenous Kannadigas. Consider this. 21 people killed, 15 of them in police firing. On the other hand, the damage to property, 20 crores. And that in 1991, was an astronomical sum.

For all its bluster, the IT industry, the so called jewel in Bangalore’s crown has created just about six lakh jobs. A majority, sixty percent of them indirectly, as allied services. Under 2 lakh are employed directly in the IT and BPO sectors. And that in a city of seven million is quite minimal, considering the pre-eminent position IT claims in the city’s scheme of things. Even today, three and half million people, that’s half of Bangalore’s populace lives in ‘shadow areas’, a government coined euphemism for poverty. But no one writes or reports about it. Almost as if, the poor of Bangalore simply don’t exist.

In essence, Bangalore’s is a tale of two cities. One, living on pretensions, the other in poverty. One, savouring the delights of a good life. The other, struggling from one meal to another. Islands of prosperity in an ocean of poverty. The garden city may yet tide over, what maybe considered a temporary phenomenon. But for old timers like me, Bangalore will never be the same again.

SMALL IS BIG

There are very few nice things to say about the current presidential election campaign. It’s been malicious, slanderous and frankly below the belt. Simply not befitting the country’s first office. But one of the positive fallouts of this vicious exercise has been the genesis of the UNPA. Or should we say, the resurrection of the third front in a new name.

A wise old politician once said that "third front dreams are pipe dreams. It exists only in the fantasies of out of power Chief Ministers." Agreed that Chandrababu Naidu, Jayalalithaa, Mulayam Singh and Om Prakash Chautala are all out of power Chief Ministers who are lurking to get back. But their ambitions are not a pipe dream. I believe, come 2009, these regional satraps will hold the key to the corridors of power in Delhi. And here’s why.

First, if one were to go by the simple thumb rule of anti-incumbency all the constituents of the UNPA are likely to benefit in the 2009 Lok Sabha elections. Even by the most conservative terms, the seven party alliance should be able to notch up about 80 to a 100 seats. Which would mean that for either the NDA or the UPA to come to power, they will need a little bit of help from friends within the UNPA.

Neither the UPA nor the NDA seems to be in a position to storm back to power on their own. The backbone of the UPA is its allies comprising of the Left, DMK, RJD and NCP. All these parties stand to lose in the 2009 elections because of the cyclical nature of anti-incumbency. But none of the NDA partners are in a position to capitalise on the UPA's losses. Hence this should go to the UNPA's kitty.

Gone are the days when the road to Delhi passed through Lucknow. Today it passes through Chennai and Hyderabad. Both the NDA and UPA managed to come to power because of a substantial number of seats from Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh. Hence the importance of being Amma or Babugaaru.

But does that mean a third front government is going to walk the famous path up Raisina Hill? Not quite. The famous Indian Express Editor Shekhar Gupta had written in one of his columns that for a stable polity at the center, the combined strength of the Congress and the BJP has to exceed 300 seats. The Congress and the Jan Sangh/BJP have outnumbered the regional players in every single Lok Sabha since 1952. To put that same point in another way, a non-Congress, non-BJP government can come about only when the combined strength of prospective third front constituents exceeds the combined tally of the Congress and the BJP. Which is why the Mulayams and Lalus and Naidus of the country will always be kingmakers and can never become King.

The fallout of this has been that successive third front governments have been at the mercy of either the BJP or the Congress. The Janata party in 77, the National Front in 89 or even the United Front in 96 and 97. But, unstable as it may seem, the third front is the ultimate manifestation of India’s federal polity, which enables smaller regional parties to call the shots at the centre. So here’s to the political baby in the cradle. In the big bad world of Indian politics, small is big.

BACK TO BLOGGING. THANK YOU SUPERSTAR.

Writing is an addiction. So here I am, back to the enticing world of blogs after a hiatus of more than two years. Funny, the point of provocation to get back to the clicker-clacker of the keyboard also had to be an addiction. Something I have been hooked to since I was five. Something I’ve grown with. Something that is an inherent part of my South Indian psyche. The phenomenon called Rajnikanth.

Funny again, that the reason I am writing this is a blog of a fellow media person, terming Sivaji the boss of crap. Fair enough. She has every right to be entitled to an opinion. Like an old firend says.."Opinions are like certain orifices in the human body. Everyone has one." But opinions have to be based on facts, logic and closeness to reality. Sadly, hers wasn’t.

First things first, Sivaji is not Rajni’s best movie. Nor is it his worst. It’s not even a yardstick to measure the range or depth of his work. It’s just another Rajni film. Entertaining and in relative terms I place it above the last two movies he’s done, Chandramukhi and Baba. Chandramukhi was too much of a safe script. Proven successful in Malayalam and Kannada. Even the superstar needs the security of a safe bet, once in a while. Chandramukhi was a safe bet. As for Baba, I don’t even want to get started. Arguably, the most forgetful fare from the superstar’s stable.

Sivaji on the other hand is Rajni in his elements. Not quite vintage Rajni. It’s more a Shankar movie than a Rajni one. Shankar’s scripts, whether it’s Muthalvan, Indian, Gentleman or even Anniyan could have had Rajni in the lead. He in fact had gone to Rajni with the Muthalvan role. Word is that Rajni refused because if he did that movie, it would be impossible for him to stay out of politics. (The protagonist in Muthalvan goes onto become CM of Tamil Nadu). Because when you have him as the hero, the entire setting becomes larger than life. And that’s what Rajni is. Larger than reality. An extraordinary escape window for our mundane everyday existences. He does, what we all aspire to. Beat up the baddies, court the beauties and cleanse the system. And do it in style.

It’s a tad dubious that an actor should be judged, just by one work of his. Imagine judging Amitabh after having seen only films like Mahaan or Sharaabi or Mard. And that too by people who haven’t seen Rajni grow over the years. And worse, still by those who don’t understand a word of Tamil. That’s plain unfair. It’s like me trying to judge Almodovar or Kurosawa. I’d never be able to appreciate the nuances as much as a Spaniard or a Japanese.

There’s another myth about Rajni that I’d like to blow. That he’s a bad actor. He’s just a man of antics and a sub-standard actor. I beg to differ. Anyone who’s seen Rajni in Thappu Thalangal, Gayatri, Aval Appadithan or Sri Raghavendra wouldn’t call Rajni a bad actor. It’s a pity that the actor in him has been buried under the superstar. And Tamil cinema shall be the lesser for it.

But there are these two incidents which put the Rajni phenomenon in perspective. Everytime I meet an outsider who asks me about Rajni, I tell them these two incidents. Just as an indicator of where the man began and where he is now. The first one involves Rajni and the legendary Kannada director Puttana Kanagal who gave him one of his first breaks in Katha Sangamam. During the shooting, Rajni walked upto the legendary director and told him..”Sir, I don’t know the ABCD of acting. I was a bus conductor before this.” To which, the witty Puttana replied “Son, don’t worry I was a two-wheeler mechanic before this. So I think we’ll make a good team.”

The second incident happened many years later. In 1992, after Rajni’s superstar status had hit stratosphere. Jayalalithaa was CM of Tamil Nadu in her first term. Brash, arrogant and new to power. Rajni was leaving his home for shooting one morning, when he noticed a huge traffic block outside. Upon enquiring he found out from Jaya’s PSO that the road was blocked because Madam was leaving her residence. The wily Rajni gets off his car, walks up to a nearby tea stall and starts having his regular fare of tea and Wills Navy cut. Within minutes, a huge crowd surrounds him and the whole street becomes a sea of people. The all powerful CM can’t get out of her house. The same PSO comes back to Rajni and says.."Sir you please leave first. Madam cannot move if you don’t leave first. I am sorry for the trouble." Few actors in the country could thumb their nose at a Chief Minister. Least of all, at the all powerful Amma.

Finally it’s only appropriate that I sign off in Rajni style, with the much-publicised (and may I add ridiculed by some) dialogue from Sivaji. “Pigs go in herds. The lion walks alone.” Keep walking Superstar. We’ll never get enough of you.