Good News!

Picture Courtesy:Google Pictures (tytropes.org)

The economy is slipping down a slippery slope. Tomato prices are kissing the moon. There is no coal for the power plants. Children are being raped and fed with poisonous food.

Where is the good news?

While Britain celebrates the royal baby, we are engaged in a slug fest between two bachelors - one sporting a veil of supposed secularism and the other dressed in knickers of alleged communalism.

While Britain celebrates the outcome of ‘puppies’ of a different sort, we are plumbing new depths over puppy analogies of the dirtiest kind. Shorts, skirts, English language, computers and chowmein could all be responsible for our plight.

Amid all the gloom and doom, the only silver lining was the Salman-ShahRukh hug that added cheer to our dreary routine of negotiating potholes, power cuts and puddles. Whoever referred to the ‘British stiff upper lip’ never saw the Indian middle class sulk over the governance limbo in our country.

So what can really cheer the nation? 

Some estimates say the royal birth will bring loud cheer for the British economy. Perhaps our political royalty needs to come up with novel ideas to pep up the national mood. In the larger interest of uplifting sagging national spirits, I request Rahul ji to tie the knot and provide some good news to a nation semi-blind with sleaze.

If my biology serves me right, there is enough time before May 2014. I guess it is too late to ask Modi ji, but Rahul ji can oblige us. Plus Modi ji has a development plank to surf the tide, but options for Rahul ji are limited.

Look at the all the strategic advantages. 
News is that Finland has already gifted William and Kate with a special ‘baby box’ received by expectant mothers in the Nordic country which includes infant clothing. Imagine China sending cute ‘baby boxes’ instead of aggressive soldiers? For all we know, Pakistan could send mittens and booties made from Peshawari wool, hand knitted by Hina Rabbani. No cricket diplomacy could match this baby diplomacy. Back home Times Now can be the first channel to say, ‘Your channel is the first to report the contents of the ‘baby box’. Arnab can invite a few Pakistani guests and debate the hand of the ISI in sending red mittens instead of the traditional pink or blue ones.

While bookies in Britain were betting on everything from baby’s name to baby’s weight, our betting veterans who are twiddling their thumbs after the cricket fiasco will be back in business. This way we can legalize betting and infuse all the stashed black money in our economy. Ramdev ji can thus breathe easy and revert back to his kapalbhati with Jethmalani ji. Who knows the prices of essential commodities could come down in view of all the celebrations? 

The birth of Prince George of Cambridge is helping the debt-laden  economy of Britain by boosting tourism.Tours of royal palaces are on, and visitors are thronging to catch a glimpse of the palace where the Prince is sleeping. We too can boost tourism by providing a two-night package tour of Delhi. Historical monuments like the India Gate and the Kutub Minaar can then be illuminated in blue or pink. 

But never mind all that. Any such good news holds great potential of blunting the political barbs. Forget an exuberant Pippa Mausi or Harry Chachu, imagine the joy of Tau Digvijay ji. In a fit of joy, he could embrace his Nagpur based rival and post lovey-dovey pictures on twitter.

I tell you this good news could prove to be a trump card in any political arsenal. Let the opposition slew in misery if they lack a virile royal Prince capable of giving us the good news. 

And if you think I have gone senile, what else can an idle mind do in the absence of jobs, onions and electricity?

Cherry Picking

Dear News Channels, 

‘No Room For Real Issues’, ‘War of Words’ and ‘Punch Fest’ are some recent headlines of editorials featuring in prominent newspapers. When the print media feels the need to debate real issues, I fail to comprehend your fetish for non-issues. 

The recent ‘Puppy’ and ‘Burqa’ analogy represents a sad trend of viewing debates purely from the TRP reading glass. I am referring to the cherry picking of words and dissecting them endlessly on prime time. Whether it was the ‘bee-hive’ observation by Rahul or the ‘puppy’ analogy by Modi, you select the juiciest bone, chew it to bits, and wait for another succulent one for consumption. 

If you happen to drive a few kilometers away from Gurgaon towards Haryana, you will come across ‘taus’ impeccably dressed, lazing on rickety charpoys, smoking hookah and engaged in animated discussions. A closer look reveals that these octogenarians spend days discussing buffaloes and their milking ritual.To any discerning viewer, you and their ilk look like contemporary versions of ‘taus’ who pick one insignificant  topic, chew it for days, regurgitate and conveniently ignore issues that really matter.

Interestingly, towards the end of trivial raucous debates, most anchors regain moral ground and conclude that instead of expending energies on coining and dissecting terms of little relevance, the political parties would do well to focus on issues that really matter to the average citizen.

While we are smart enough to see through the games of polarization, recent debates have created an impression that Modi was perhaps deliberately naming and denigrating one community. I am not sure, but after listening to your gobbledygook, it seems very likely that the attempt was to polarize voters. However, what Modi could not, you managed with amazing ease.Polarize the atmosphere that is.

It is easy to grab a microphone and record sound bites from politicians on isolated comments made by their rivals. Who wants to spend time and money on in-depth discussions when sensationalism comes easy and sells even better? 

Not willing to be left behind, the warring factions come up with their wittiest best. So for every Rambo we have a Scambo and for every Scambo we have a Mogambo. For every Burqa we have Khakhi shorts and for every Bee-Hive we have an Elephant.

A relevant study by The Hoot reveals that DD bulletins were most comprehensive in terms of number of stories covered.Perhaps the wheel has come full circle. 
Yes, it is the pre election year and our leaders are going berserk. Considering the stakes involved, who can blame them? But why are you going bonkers? Politics first? No, it should be governance first.

And yes, for whatever it is worth, I have no option but to revert back to the channel best known for Krishi Darshan.



A disheartened viewer.


(Read the entire article originally on The Hoot )

The Name Game

Picture: Flickr.com

We are at the local grocery shop in my apartment. The owner, a native of eastern UP, offers sweets and invites us for the inauguration of his new shop in another apartment complex.

‘Congratulations. Where is the new shop?’

‘Erotica.’

I almost choke on the laddu.

‘What?’ I mean where?’

‘Erotica,’ he says happily. ‘Near the Masterpee Building.’

The husband nudges me, ‘He means The Exotica, near the Masterpiece Building.’

If you happen to live in an emerging city like Gurgaon, all too often, you will come across luxury condominiums with fancy names such as Miami Mansions, Belvedere Boulevard and Vista Villas. As long as the NRI’s are investing, the builders are least concerned about the phonetic challenges faced by house-helps, drivers and maids.

After all, the bijou abodes of globetrotting residents cannot be called Shanti Dhams or Prem Kutirs. When you shell out a fortune for Hollywood Heights, Trinity Towers or Eagleton Estates, you deserve to evoke that perfect emotion of admiration tinged with envy and awe among your peers. Whoever said that money can’t buy happiness, never lived in an apartment called Sovereign Sojourn with a heated swimming pool and all weather VRV air-conditioning.

So far away from the Palladiums, Boulevards and Avenues of California, we have our very own islands of excellence. The apartments may be exotically christened but that is as far as modernity goes. Step out and reality hits when a mound of construction rubble greets you, and you realize that your fancy abode lacks sewer lines, gets power that is generator generated, and that the drinking water often gets mixed with sewage lines.

I wonder if Greenwood Villa would be any less modern if it was called Goverdhan Vilas? After all, what’s in a name? That which we call Blooming Bougainvilleas by any other name would be as beautiful. Right?

Wrong.

Perception. In a city like Gurgaon, Pune or Bangalore where every second resident has kissed foreign shores, your social existence hinges on packaging and perception. Ponty and Monty may have paved way for more traditional Parth and Manas, but the names of our abodes  match their western counterparts. All because, every generation wants new names to identify with their signature personality. Nothing wrong with it at all.

But I honestly feel for those who struggle to get the pronunciation right, as I am reminded of my own struggle with Gucci, Givenchy and Cannes. It is a double edged sword. Correctly pronouncing a foreign name can make you sound either too pretentious or too cool. For that matter, I still don’t know how to sputter ‘Raison d’être’. The funny thing is that we find it cute when a foreigner says ‘Daily’ for ‘Delhi’ but we take potshots at anyone who can’t pronounce ‘Leicester’ with a British lisp.

As I write, new 'global' residential projects are being launched and my social standing is likely to be dented. How am I going to pronounce Le Cirque, or The Royal Monceu?

( Originally published in Friday Gurgaon.)