How Bad Can It Be?

If ghost stories don’t scare you anymore, your newspaper will. According to the news, we are doomed. The rupee is flirting with 67 to a dollar, onions with 80 to a kg and crude with 40 to a barrel.
As it happens, my newspaper tried to spook me with all the bad news at its command. Having learned to deal with it, I’m not scared anymore. Because it is an annual unfailing exercise. It is that time of the year when onion prices kiss the skies with the notoriety of Mika locking lips with Ms Sawant. So, if I don’t party for a month, I can easily scrape through the onion crisis. Experience tells me that the new crop will hit in September, and life will be back to chopping onions.

Just when I decided not to worry about chopping onions, the global markets turned choppy. My newspaper threatened me with platitudinous bunkum - Monday Mayhem, Markets in a Tailspin, Bloodbath on Dalal Street, Global Jitters, and Commodity Crash. No, Sir. I refuse to be terrorized.
See, the good thing about not being too rich or too poor is that you don’t really care if the rupee deflates, crude plunges, gold gains or commodities crash. Who cares for the devaluation of the Yuan unless you are planning a vacation to China? Who cares for the plummeting rupee unless you are planning to send your kid abroad? Who cares if gold glitters unless you are Bappi Lahiri? And who cares if Washington apples, imported chocolates, kiwi fruit or imported liquor become costlier, because those who consume them don’t really care about a few bucks here and there.

The mayhem on the water-logged street next to my house bothers me more than the mayhem on the Wall Street. Moreover, the thing with onions and stocks is that nobody really knows how high the onions will go, or how low the Nifty will settle. Nobody really knows if the present crisis is a buying opportunity for both - onions and stocks.

While watching the commodities crash on television, I noticed an interesting phenomenon. While CNBC-TV18 clearly said that the free fall in global commodities market was due to the slowing Chinese economy, a panelist on CNN-IBN blamed Modi for the slowdown. Similarly, while market analysts on NDTV Profit blamed the market panic on global cues, mainstream NDTV engaged in the usual Congress versus BJP slugfest. Which makes me wonder why our mainstream media loves to fish in troubled waters - from terror to politics to economy?

During such episodes when my newspaper unleashes fear, I withdraw into the most familiar comfortable place – optimism. Since I am a firm believer of what goes up, comes down, tears of joy trickled down as wholesale onion prices dropped sharply this week. The markets obliged too, albeit marginally.
There are other drivers for my optimistic streak. You see, bad news is a headline but gradual improvement is not. Since onions make me misty every August, I refuse to cry at the dinner table. Plus we’ve been in recession for a decade, so there is nothing more to recess. The fear about the flight of capital does not bother me as there is no other market in the world with consumers bursting at the seams. And the crude can go wherever it wants, because I just cannot drive on Gurgaon’s potholed roads in schizophrenic traffic. When you have nothing to lose, nothing scares you.

Revenge Reloaded

While Sholay completed forty years, we completed sixty-eight years of independence. Like Sholay, revenge - a pet Bollywood theme played in the Indian Parliament. But, with several twists.

Wo 44 aur tum 280, phir bhi GST pass nahi kara paye?
Before your imagination runs away to Ramgarh, know that Gabbar here is not a person. Instead, he is symbolic of all that is wrong with our governance. Whether the Thakur is from the BJP or the Congress, when in power, he is helpless without the hands of the opposition. 

The monsoon session of the house resembled a battle zone, said President, Pranab Mukherjee. No, he didn’t use the Sholay analogy but like most of us, he lamented the waste of the monsoon session. Returning from a sabbatical, riding the Congress horse, God’s gift to mankind, Rahul was there to fight every cause, join every dharna and support every protest. From mobilizing farmers, to FTII, to municipal sweepers, to net neutrality, to OROP – Rahul Reloaded held an entire nation to ransom. Loaded with ammunition provided by news channels and cheat-sheets provided by party veterans, he threatened political ‘soocide’ unless Sushma Swaraj resigned. Despite being called an ‘expert without knowledge’, despite verbal bullets from Sushma’s oratorical armor, despite the social media jeers, the energized version of Rahul had only one thing on his mind. Revenge.

Those who had energized the Bunny, failed to understand that young India enjoys a tit-for-tat tale only in the theatres, and not in the Parliament. Funny, that a wise old party allowed its newly minted crusader to launch himself with an irrelevant idea that had demolished them in 2014. Why is it so difficult to understand that any hindrance that throttles the aspirations of Ramgarh, is unlikely to reap positive political dividends. No wonder, the messiah of causes was sent packing by ex-servicemen as they did not want their angst to be hijacked by any farcical photo-op.

As a bitter retribution saga played on, it was heartening to see leading businessmen sign a petition to put an end to the revenge politics. But wise Congress veterans ignored their pleas despite the fact that they need corporate tycoons to fight elections. They ignore the fact that every citizen aspires for a suit-boot, even if their Energized Bunny wants a pyjama party. How do you plan to win a battle when your basic strategy is flawed?

In the past forty years, while Bollywood has moved away from the script of revenge, our netas are stuck with the theatrics of revenge that does not resonate today. With both sides engaged in a bitter battle, Ramgarh is unlikely to get rid of Gabbar anytime soon. And it is not a reassuring thought at all. It seems as if the Congress is saying, ‘I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for’. Fine. Go ahead and hate each other more than you care for us. But know that the man who seeks revenge digs two graves. 

Romance Routed?

It is almost a ritual. After deadly doses of negativity emanating from news, I listen to a couple of old songs before calling it a day. Mellifluous voice of Rafi, and dulcet notes of Lata ensure that Arnab does not appear in my dreams, drenching me in cold sweat, asking me to resign from life.

So when ‘Aapki Ankhon Mein Kuch Mehke Hue Se Khwab’ was seducing me to sleep, it dawned that most songs today are bereft of romance. Where is the hero who engaged the heroine over charms of poetry? Poetry as a vehicle for romance is on its way out. Perhaps, it is in the nature of evolution that we do things differently. Lyrical admiration where eyes close, nostrils flare and chins quiver without the quintessential shaking of limbs, has lost meaning in a world where actions speaks louder than words. No wonder, poetic imagery of yesteryears has paved way for live action replacing the magic of words with the beat of music. What we have today is more of teasing, dancing and celebrating, minus poetry drenched in an overdose of emotions. Not surprising at all, because the pace of life reflects in the rendition of songs too.

Moreover, not many girls would appreciate meandering lazy poetry loaded with an emotional surplus admiring their beauty. Rather than smiling coyly and fluttering eyelashes, girls would perhaps cringe if their beau decided to close eyes and sing ‘Chaudhvi Ka Chand Ho’. In digital times, any ode to lustrous hair, soulful eyes, pretty smile or alluring walk would perhaps invite ridicule. Is it any surprise, therefore, that far away from the sophistry of ‘Kabhie Kabhie Mere Dil Mein’ we have ‘Sexy Dress Mein Bomb Lagdi Mainu’ which is funky. But crass. Above all, it is impossible to sing along.

Given that current songs are meant to play at dance parties and marriages from Haryana to Bihar, we have an assortment of colloquial words interspersed in the lyrics. Moreover, the party scene has changed drastically. The party songs of today are not about playing the piano and singing songs of self-pity, betrayal or admiration. A hilarious satirical video by AIB starring Irrfan Khan is spot on. It tells us how party songs objectify women by portraying random bikini clad girls in a mandatory pool sequence with the hero spraying booze on her, err, body parts.

Many are lamenting the rout of romance as the musical palette of Enriques’ ballads and Bryan Adam’s songs is fading against a flashy cocktail of meaningless lyrics. As Suhel Seth wrote recently, romance is not about falling in love with someone. It is about being in love with love itself. A leisurely walk in the park, handpicked flowers, a handwritten note and candle light dinners are passe, but romance is not dead. Because when it comes to Bollywood music, Arijit Singh’s ‘Tum Hi Ho’ and Mohit Chauhan’s ‘Tum Se Hi Din Hota Hai’ prove that a soulful rendition replete with effortless prose is always appreciated.

While it is perfectly unreasonable to expect present day songs to go back to old fashioned leisurely romance, there is relief in knowing that I can always melt into the gentle soulfulness of poetry. After angry, vindictive political discourse around dinner time, poetic imagery is a big relief.