RAVAN REFUSES TO DIE

At Ramlila this year, Ravan refused to die.

The battle lines had been drawn. In the dead of the night they were hastily crossed.

It was an unthinkably shameful ambush: battalions of police swooping down on unarmed protesters, outnumbering them.

Elderly men were punched. Women and children were fiercely knocked to the ground. Baba Ramdev whisked away with brutal force. A bustling Maidan cleaned out in a Tiananmen-style raid in the cover of darkness. Only tanks didn’t roll in. Bullets didn’t fly. The intentions were no less evil. Ironic it almost coincided with the 22nd anniversary of the 6-4 crackdown.

The police state had struck back with vengeance. Was this needed?

Can a motley crowd, waving its arms and doing breathing exercises in the park, really be a threat to the world's biggest democracy?

Was there an Emergency? UPA, however, did feel besieged.

‘The government that can reach out, can also rein in.’

Yes Mr Sibal, now we know it can and that those who defy the regime will be dealt with sternly.

But let it be known that only a thug can reach out to a thug to strike a devil’s deal and then punch him to the ground if ‘talks fail’.

Civil people agree to disagree. Sending guerillas by the night is not the democratic way.

If Baba is guilty of misleading his followers, then the government is culpable for meeting him the halfway.

It must answer for putting up a grand pretence of engaging him, while loading up its cannon-size gun.

Instinct dictates: let's leave God out of it. For once let’s bring him in.

The Congress has said everything except that Ramdev must change his name to be a secular icon in the fight against corruption.

He’s a thug, a yoga merchant, a businessman remote-controlled by the RSS. It is just a way to pull saffron wool over the nation’s eyes. Ramdev’s robe is not the issue, it’s at best a distraction.

The issue is a colossal theft of national wealth and it's no longer part of the aam admi’s tolerance catalogue.

Read the writing on the wall: In 2014, if there is a choice between the likes of Baba Ramdev and Rahul Baba then it is going to be a little more complicated than mera wala saffron or green.

Esprit de l'escalier:

Kehne ki seema hoti hai,
sehne ki seema hoti hai.
Kuch mere bhi hai bas mein,
mera kuch soch samajh apmaan karo

YOU HIDE, THEY SEEK!

WHAT THEY SHOWED YOU


Uma, Chautala heckled at Anna's protest by tvnportal

WHAT THEY DID NOT



Esprit de l'escalier:

Ek artist ko kya chahiye?
Do waqt ki roti aur Public ka pyaar

THE REVOLUTION INFECTION

Incredible Hysterical India!

42 years, 9 failed attempts to pass the Lokpal Bill spread over 11 general elections. Do I blame the netas for it? No. Survival is a politician’s first virtue, public service a distant second. It’s a beast extremely alert to the shifting winds and tides of public opinion.

To every man, woman and child gathered at what was hysterically called India’s Tahrir Square, I have one question to ask: What took you so long?

Revolutions are built, nurtured, directed to a logical conclusion. They are not born out of delirium.

Fear the day India needs the scent of Jasmine for an Axe Effect.

Yes, we needed the kind of outpouring we saw at Jantar Mantar. We needed it to send a message to the politicians to stop taking us for granted. To say enough is enough.

But amid all the cacophony it looked as if we whipped up incredible escape velocity to Destination Nowhere. The focus in the crowd was missing.

Revolutions are romantic. But why wait for 42 years, when a mini-revolution can be led by each one of us every five years. If the Anna Hazare, the Gandhi in me and you wakes up just for one day every 5 years, we can turn every polling booth into our very own Jantar Mantar.

But then it won’t feel so good, so heady. Back to Jantar Mantar, I think the drum roll suggests India has won the war-on-corruption world cup?

Those dancing with abandon won’t know the difference.

Esprit de l'escalier:

KAMAR KA KASNA SUNTE AAYE THE
HUMNE SOCHA KAS KAR DEKHEIN
KHOLA, KASA, KAS KAR KHOLA
PHIR DOBARA KAS KAR REH GAYE!