Jan 28, 2011

Of Ravi Shankar, Mani Shankar and Arnab

The last thing I do before going to bed is to watch a bit of TV. The three news channels, "Times Now", "NDTV", and "CNN-IBN"are easily the most watched channels in the house.
Last night, I lazily rolled on my back as my father surfed these three channels with the luxury of knowing that my I didn't have to rise early to go to school the next day when I let out a shriek. "Times Now" I observed, had my favourite anchor, Mr. Arnab Goswami grilling Mr. Mani Shankar Iyer among a panel of others. A classic, certainly. I implored my father to stop switching the channels.
As an avid follower of political developments, I had developed a liking to certain politicians and no political parties.
While the most intellectual were the lawyer folk, the Jaitleys and the Sibals and the Chidambarams, personally the sharp-tongued spokespersons were my favourite.
The exile of Shashi Tharoor from the main Congress framework deeply disappointed me for he was one who didn't fear to voice his opinion over his own party-men and also used the net to air his views, a sign of modernity.
Mani Shankar Iyer, rather like him but more conscious of the hierarchy in his party, was another outspoken general, a man who would say "Absolute Bullshit" instead of saying "I respect his opinion but I think he has got it wrong." Brash, is what I'm driving at.
Though Ravi Shankar Prasad and the above mentioned Iyer may share the Shankar in the name, they share hardly anything else. An out an out BJP man, Prasad is the main focal point of all news-room discussions, perhaps because he is a part of the opposition. The kind of chap who will wait for the applause (if any) to subside and continue and jab his finger violently at the camera while coming close to concluding his point. And after every punch line, he gives a knowing smile, sure that he has caught his opponent in the net.
And then there's every politicians biggest enemy, the newsroom anchor, be it Burkha Dutt, Rajdeep Sardesai or Arnab Goswami. Although Burkha Dutt had always had a special place in my heart (which she lost after Niira Radia tapes were released), Arnab Goswami always stole the show.
Where Burkha would say, "Sir yes sir, but in a sense......" full of respect and poise, Mr. Goswami would just shrug his shoulder and say "You've got your facts all wrong". Brash diplomacy, if there is such a thing.
But then, my dream has never come true. A newsroom discussion hosted by Mr. Goswami with the Shankar's as his guests. I've never really seen Mr. Iyer stretched while Jayanthi Nataraj has come close to doing like-wise to Mr. Prasad.
Mr. Iyer is rarely present on these shows, though he was prominent when Kalmadi accused him of causing the delay in CWG building construction after he said in characteristic style that he would "get the hell out of Delhi" during the CWG. Mr.Prasad on the other hand frequently encounters Burkha Dutt and Arnab Goswami, somehow never making a fool of himself or his party. But then, he always has a certain Manish Tiwari (not sure about the name), a most lacklustre spokesperson if there ever was, to deal with. Never a match for the Prasad.
And then there's Chandan Mitra, another BJP man with a characteristic style. He will sit silent, speak only if spoken to, which he does in a methodical manner, and the second he sees this flaw in a Congress compatriot, he comes up with a flawless, nonreturnable one-liner and laughs his face off, knowing he has won. "Charisma" is the word.
These discussions however never lead anywhere, usually causing Goswami to hastily and diplomatically, yet brashly, in his own style, tell the spokespersons to shut up and close the show, before everyone has had their chance.

Jan 15, 2011

Mother India

A random poem I wrote for my Civics assignment.
She hugs me,
makes me feel cared.
She slaps me,
makes me feel scared.
She baffles me,
with beauty and brilliance.
She suffocates me,
with her teeming millions.
She leaves me confused,
annoyed, angry at her.
She leaves me amazed,
awed, envious of her.
Here she slaps me again
There he hugs me again.
She filthy yet she's famous.
She's poor yet the money flows.
She's corrupt yet she's courteous
She contradicts yet she's assuring.
Assuring in her contractions,
Contradicting in her assurances,
Assuring in her contradictions,
She is my mother,
Mother India and inspite of it all
I'm proud of her
Because she is mine,
while being ours.

Jan 8, 2011

Nobility

As I was hovering around the house, doing nothing in particular, a sudden urge hit me. Fresh from a holiday in Coorg, felt this craving for a piece of "chikki", a kind of sweet, brought from this land. Needless to say, I knew exactly where it was and proceeded to extract it from a certain box in the kitchen. To my dismay, I found that there was only one piece left and this being my father's favourite, I couldn't just eat and continue living without remorse. It was time for action, for me to step up to the mantle, take the bull by the horns, use my tact, exercise the grey cells and fight for the last piece. Such thoughts ran through my mind when the idea struck. Simplicity itself, I was surprised it hadn't hit me before.
I would simply offer it to my father, he would say "no you eat." He often did this even though he really wanted it, he would forego it in fatherly spirit. On other occasions, I would have myself have lied that I didn't want the item and force him to come out with his real feelings.
But this time, I had different ideas. It was a simple case of saying "Oh, in that case I'll eat it."
There was something about this scheme that I loved. It couldn't fail, I would get my chikki and my father would certainly hail my selflessness. A win-win situation.
Armed with the piece of chikki, I walked confidently to my father, put on an earnest, sincere, loving expression and suppressing a smile, I chirped "Daddy, laaaast piece of chikki" and handed it to him. The moment of reckoning came and was gone like a blur.
Yes, he did hail my selflessness. He thought it rather noble of me. But my tact failed, I had failed to deliver the goods.
Dad performed the simple action of saying "Thank you" full of love and proceeded to eat the chikki whole.
While I was more dismayed than ever, I did have a good laugh about it later. And it was just a chikki. :D