Followers

Monday, September 26, 2011

MY TRIBUTE TO MANSUR ALI KHAN, THE TRUE NAWAB OF CRICKET

If statistics were the true measure of greatness, then Mansur Ali Khan, the late Nawab of Pataudi, would never be counted among the all-time greats of Indian cricket. With a batting average in the mid-30’s he would rank amidst a host of lesser known names, and by now would have been completely forgotten. The likes of Chandu Borde, Pankaj Roy, and Farook Engineer, who ended their careers with similar figures, and who were his contemporaries, are mainly remembered in old black-and-white photographs on the walls of the Madras Cricket Club, and similar cricket stadia in the country. Of course, there are still some people around who can tell you about the heroic batting of Borde in the Delhi Test in Feb. 1959 against a rampaging West Indian fast bowling attack led by Wesley Hall and Roy Gilchrist, two of the most fearsome new ball bowlers the world had ever seen. Those were the days when the only defensive weapon the batsmen had was their cricket bat. Helmets were unknown, protective shin pads and gloves were of a mediocre quality, and there were no arm and chest guards. There were no restrictions on the number of bouncers a bowler could send down in an over, and the front-foot no ball rule had not been introduced. Borde scored 109 and 96 in that match and helped India earn an honourable draw. Earlier, Pankaj Roy had scored 90 in the second innings of the first test in Bombay, to help India begin the series with a draw.

The flamboyant wicket-keeper-batsman Farook Engineer broke into the Indian side in the 1960’s and I will never forget that special innings of his against the West Indies on 13th Jan.1967 when he scored 109 runs while opening the Indian batting. Against a bowling attack consisting of Wesley Hall, Charlie Griffith, Gary Sobers and Lance Gibbs, Engineer had raced to 94 or 96, I am not quite sure, and was just a boundary away from scoring a century before lunch; a feat that had, till then, only been achieved by the great Don! Chandu Borde scored 125 and 49 in the same Test. India drew the match but it had already lost the series before that.

No, I would not need the help of statistics to keep the memory of Tiger Pataudi fresh in my mind. I saw him but just a couple of times. Cricket was not a TV sport then, and most of us followed the game on radio. There were a few good cricket commentators in India like Chakrapani, Pearson Surita, and Berry Sarbadhikari, who would bring the game live to the followers. Roadside pan shops and dhabas would keep their radios tuned to the cricket commentary, and some of them would even maintain a live scorecard on a blackboard outside their establishments. The excitement of the cricket ground was faithfully conveyed to the listening crowd as every stroke and wicket was described in exciting detail by the commentators. I remember Vizzy once describing a late cut executed by the Australian batsman Norman O’Neill, as a stroke that was played “so late, so posthumously, that one wouldn’t mind going to the next world to see such a shot being played!” What a beautiful way of describing a cricketing shot!

Pataudi had begun his career brilliantly for India, scoring a century in the second Test he played for the country. The commentators were in raptures about his batting style. But what had caught their imagination most was his fielding. He prowled the cover region like the striped golden pride of Bengal and was equally effective in the mid-wicket area. His presence was enough to make opposite batsmen think twice before attempting a run. There was something languidly alert about his manner that made batsmen more cautious of stealing a run from him. His stance was easy and loose-limbed. There was no tightness on view. This gave him ample time to change direction and swoop on the ball on either side of his patrolling area. His catching was just as good as his ground fielding. When at the crease he brought the same feline grace to his batting stance and was perhaps the best player of the short-arm pull the game has seen.

When I saw him bat he had already lost one eye and had adapted his stance to compensate for this terrible handicap. He would face the ball square, which made for some difficulty in playing on the off side. But he had lost none of his ability on the on side. In the 1964 India-England series, he made 203 not out in the second innings of the 4th Test played in Delhi. I was one of those fortunate people who witnessed the action live on all five days. First it was Hanumant Singh who notched up a century on debut, but a superb century by Colin Cowdrey had helped England to a handsome lead of 107 runs. Budhi Kunderan and M. L. Jaisimha ensured a good start to the second innings. When Pataudi came in to bat at no. 4, the deficit had still not been wiped out. The Nawab, in the company of Kunderan, put on 65 runs on the 4th day, himself being unbeaten on 31 at the close of play. On the fifth and final day, Pataudi treated the crowd to an amazing display of classic batsmanship. He was 116 at tea, having added 85 runs in two sessions of two hours each. In the final session of one-and-a-half hours only (the duration those days of the last session of each day’s play in a Test match) he added 87 runs to his score and when play was called off he had scored a double-century (at that time the highest individual score by an Indian against England). If my memory serves me right, the contribution of Chandu Borde, the other batsman at the crease, was just 4 runs. The pull shot off John Mortimore, with which he scored his second hundred, was so brilliantly executed that one would not have minded going to the next world to see it.

The second time I saw him was on the Delhi University cricket ground. I am not sure of the date or year but it had to be in 1964 or 1965. Conrad Hunte, the great West Indian opening batsman, had retired from international cricket. A committed Christian, Hunte in 1961, on the West Indies' tour of Australia, saw the film The Crowning Experience, about the life of the black American educator, Mary McLeod Bethune. The film was promoted by Moral Re-Armament (MRA), a multi-faith organization promoting absolute moral and ethical standards of behavior. Hunte committed the remainder of his life to this association. While in India on behalf of MRA, Hunte had assembled a cricket team and a friendly match was organized against a University side. Pataudi turned up for the University and one could see his astonishing fielding abilities from very close. I do not remember seeing him bat in that friendly, but his presence in the field was absolutely electric.

Although I never saw him again in the flesh, the memory of the Delhi Test remained fresh in my mind. I continued to follow his career until he retired from the game in 1976. Vijay Merchant had put a brake in his Test career. As Chairman of Selectors, Merchant had not liked the no-nonsense attitude of the Nawab. When, as the captain, Pataudi lost the toss in a Test match, Merchant apparently said to him that having lost the toss, the team would lose the Test too. Pataudi, it is said, replied that in that case there was no need to actually go through the motions of playing the match, and the visiting team could be declared the winners. The Chairman was not pleased with this effrontery, and when the time came to choose the Captain for the 1971 tour of the West Indies, he used his casting vote against Pataudi and in favour of Ajit Wadekar. Pataudi was not even a part of the touring party. It is a different matter that he made a come-back, but by then he had realized that in the new scheme of things there was no place for a person of his forthright and audacious views.

Later it was an absolute delight to see him, occasionally, in the experts’ panel on TV. His fluency in the English language, coupled with his mastery of the game, would make for a deadly cocktail of incisive depth. You could make out that he had no time for fools or pretenders. His assessment of the game was uncannily accurate. He could spot the weaknesses of a batsman in a jiffy and suggest the line of attack that the opposing captain should have adopted. It is the loss of Indian cricket that its administrators did not make use of his abilities. Perhaps their egos were so large that there was no room left for someone who had a much better grasp on the game! I hope they realize their loss now and make partial amends by naming the Ferozeshah Kotla ground as the Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi Stadium.

Indian cricket has seen many superstars after that tour of the West Indies in 1971. The names of Gavaskar, Vishwanath, Kapil Dev, Azharuddin, Rahul Dravid, Anil Kumble, Laxman, Sachin Tendulkar and Dhoni have adorned the game with their superb contributions with the bat and the ball. The ubiquitous TV screen has brought their exploits into the drawing rooms of millions of people. I too have experienced the thrill of watching a maestro like Gavaskar notching up milestones after milestones, only to be surpassed by Tendulkar. All the above named have lifted Indian cricket from the basement to unimaginable heights in all forms of the game. They have displayed amazing athletic skills and powers of concentration. Of course, cricket gear has undergone a tremendous change. The batsman today is protected by helmets, and a lot of other padding devices. The bouncing ball is no longer as lethal a missile as it was during the heydays of the West Indian assembly line of superfast bowlers. Cricket has been tilted in favour of the batsmen. The game too has rewarded Indian cricketers monetarily beyond their wildest expectations. I must have seen hundreds of great knocks played by the galaxy of Indian stars. But if one were to ask me the one single knock that has remained etched in my mind, I would immediately recall Tiger Pataudi’s double-hundred at the Ferozeshah Kotla ground. The fact that the Tiger played almost all his cricket with one eye makes statistics completely irrelevant. It is no use speculating how much more he would have contributed to the labour of the score-keepers, had he not met with that terrible accident. Of all the Indian cricketers who followed him, perhaps only Kapil Dev could come close to his unencumbered batting style, though not with the same grace. Azharuddin may have inherited his flair for fielding but his bony frame could not lend that languid alacrity to his stance that Pataudi had. The game of cricket was privileged when Tiger Pataudi chose to make it his means of expression. Perhaps T. S. Eliot had him in mind when he wrote the following lines:

“No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two;
Advise the prince, no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence,……”

Thank you, Mansur Ali Khan, for the delight you gave us old-fashioned followers of cricket. I am sure the gods must be waiting with bated breath to see you bat and field in the cricket fields of Paradise with your erstwhile teammates like Polly Umrigar, Vijay Manjrekar, Jaisimha, Budhi Kunderan, and opponents like Conrad Hunte, Frank Worrell, Collie Smith and Roy Gilchrist, to name just a few. Men like you come rarely, and are even more rarely recognized!

Friday, September 23, 2011

THE STATE OF THE NATION

If one wanted to have a bulletin on the health of our nation, he could do no worse than look at the front page headlines of The New Indian Express of 23rd September 2011. For those who do not subscribe to this paper, let me list them below:

The pride of place goes to “Worried PM Tries to Limit Damage, Save PC”.

On the sidelines you will read “Sensex plunges 704 points”, Delhi Blast Accused Remanded till Oct 5”, “Four Roads Still Blocked in Sikkim”, and “Fresh Flood Alert in Orissa”. Other main stories carry the headings, “DMK MLA Made Rs. 238 crore from Illegal Land Mining”, and “Mines, Factories Razed 2 Lakh Hectares of Forest in 4 Yrs” under “Government Approved Deforestation”.

After reading such a catalogue of the drastic diseases that have paralysed the body of the nation into a deep coma, the news about the death of a great cricketing son of India on the same front page comes as a shock that makes one wake up to the fact that there are real flesh-and-blood people still inhabiting this land. The picture of the Home Minister “taking stock” of the damage done by the Sikkim earthquake, and apparently visiting some victims in a Gangtok hospital, accompanied by a single white-coated doctor, while flanked by a whole lot of security personnel, says it most eloquently. Of course, there is no mention of what the Home Minister said or did to alleviate the sufferings of the unfortunate victims of this “natural” disaster. But with regard to his involvement in the 2G scam, all he had to say was, “I have assured the Prime Minister that I shall not make any public statement on the subject until he returns to India”. Great words from an eloquent Harvard alumnus!

How the government must be wishing they could impose a similar kind of the code of omerta as has been observed/enforced in the case of the health bulletin of the Congress Party’s President! In 1975 it was tried with reasonable success when the earlier Mrs. Gandhi imposed her emergency on the country. While protesting against press censorship, when a national daily published a blank editorial page, its editor was called to the office of the I&B Minister, Mr. V. C. Shukla, who threatened him with dire consequences, as that kind of effrontery was not “permittible” (sic).

After glancing through the headlines of the front page one really needs a lot of courage to open the other pages, as more of the same damaging information comes across. The nation is so far gone that not one organ of its body seems to be functioning. The almost unbeatable combination of two Sardar economists, after great intellectual effort, have come to the conclusion that with Rs. 25 a day a rural citizen can lead a comfortable life, and would not need any support from the government. Earlier one of these two had commented that the recent rise in petrol prices was “good”, as it would demonstrate to the West how serious we were about economic reforms. The only people I know who can subsist on Rs 25 a day are the Members of Parliament. This fact can be verified by having a look at the price list on the menu of the Lok Sabha Canteen. With such Doctors leading the team, no wonder the newspapers continue to read like obituary columns!

The Hindu recently carried a column written by P. Sainath analyzing the increase in the wealth of our legislators. The figures he quoted were taken from the actual declarations made by the legislators themselves. The figures show that in the past four years a majority of these individuals’ wealth has grown exponentially. Their daily increment in wealth ranges from Rs 5 lakhs to a staggering Rs. 50 lakhs.

This kind of unabashed loot has happened under the continuous rule of the Prime Minister Dr. Manmohan Singh and the UPA Chairperson, Mrs. Sonia Gandhi. Dr. Singh may not have added significantly to his own material possessions, but there are some people who find it headier to remain at the apex, and for that they will make any amount of compromises. Position, by itself, becomes their reward. If he lasts this term, he will be the only person after Jawaharlal Nehru and Mrs. Indira Gandhi to complete ten years at the helm. The manner in which he has outsmarted the other aspirants without having to undergo the rough-and-tumble of elections shows what a shrewd mind is hiding behind that bland expressionless look. He has successfully neutered the chances of his rival Pranab Mukherji and kept Rahul Gandhi busy with meaningless photo-ops. By a deliberate willingness to look the other way while his colleagues loot the country, and by keeping his hands firmly in his own pocket, he has created an impression among the intelligentsia that he is the only honest man in the party and thereby he has made himself irreplaceable. The media has bought this spiel and almost all columnists are willing to give him the longest possible rope. Almost all his acts of omission are forgiven with a statement that “the personal integrity of the Prime Minister remains unquestionable”. His handling of the Anna Hazare phenomenon further reinforces this theory when he kept himself in the background and allowed Pranab Mukherji, P. Chidambaram, Kapil Sibal, Salman Khurshid, and others to tie themselves up in knots and stand totally exposed and discredited in the harsh glare of the media light. Even Rahul Gandhi played into his hands when he made his intervention in the Lok Sabha and committed himself to a stand against the popular Jan Lokpal Draft Bill.

Tomorrow’s newspaper is unlikely to carry headlines that would cheer the common man in this unfortunate country. With the rupee having plunged steeply to almost fifty per US Dollar, and the stock market reeling under global recessionary fears, you can bet your bottom paisa that the prices of petroleum products, including domestic gas, will again be increased; inflation will cross into double-digits, and that the RBI will further revise the interest rates upwards. The Planning Commission will also, in the fitness of things, present a revised figure of Rs. 40 per day as the threshold income for BPL classification, and feel proud of its magnanimity. The depredation of our natural resources will continue unabated, while floods and earthquakes will strike some other part causing havoc, but providing our politicians with plenty of opportunities to conduct aerial surveys and get themselves photographed with their panoply of grandeur.



THE MAN WITHOUT PROPERTIES

THE MAN WITHOUT PROPERTIES

(A Play in Three Acts)

Cast of Characters:

President of India: An unkempt man of 70 with a mop of hair brushed so it falls on the sides. He is wearing a Nehru jacket and trousers.

Lady Maindhi: A severe looking woman in her 60’s wearing a white saree.

Mumble Singh: A wispy old man with a blue turban, scraggly beard, and large spectacles. Owlish looking. Wearing a Nehru jacket and trousers


Plumberji: A short, balding, blunt looking man in his late 70’s. Wearing a closed Nehru jacket and trousers. Thick glasses.


Lady President of India: An unpleasant looking woman in her 70’s. Wears a coloured saree with palloo on her head.

Monty Spudseller: A strong looking man in his late 60’s wearing a blue turban, a suit with a tie.



ACT I

SCENE I

(Sometime in the year 2004)


A hall in the President’s office


Enter Lady Maindhi accompanied by Mumble Singh and Plumberji.


President greets the three and invites them to sit.

President: Ah, welcome, Lady Maindhi. I see you have Mumble Singh and Plumberji with you. How is the mood of the party now that you have won a majority in the Parliament?

Lady Maindhi: Thank you Mr. President. With the blessings of the Holy Virgin, our forces today have vanquished the armies of Satan with the help of our brethren who believe in the Holy Book. People have been falling over one another in their attempts to cajole me to lead them in this hour of triumph, and to make this nation as great as The Holy Roman Empire. I have come, Mr. President, with the list of the members who have expressed complete faith in my leadership and who are urging me to form the next government at the centre.

President: That is very good Lady Maindhi. I am sure the list must be authentic and I really do not have to look at it. So who is going to be the Prime Minister?

Lady Maindhi: (looking a bit surprised): But Mr. President, I thought you understood that the people want me to take up this post.

(Aside: “what a duffer this Bhajan Party has selected”)

Mumble Singh and Plumberji together: Yes, yes, Mr. President, Madam is the only choice of the country and we have come to seek your blessings before we make a formal announcement to the people.

President: Ah, yes! But before you came, this busybody Submarine Sammy had come here. He was sure that you would soon be coming to me with such a demand, and he told me that I should not accede to it as it would be illegal and liable to be challenged and struck down by the Supreme Court.

Lady Maindhi (looking very cross): Why, that good-for-nothing dark, Tamil rascal has the temerity to suggest that my appointment would be illegal? How dare he?

Plumberji (ingratiatingly and then angrily): Yes, yes madam, the first thing we have to do is to throw that man into the darkest cell of Tihar and lose the key. What brazenness, what blasphemy! The man is a horrible conspirator and should be quickly taught a lesson.

Mumble Singh (wringing his hands and looking sheepish): He thinks that just because he is a Harvard professor he can claim to know everything. He has forgotten what a long list of degrees I have acquired and how much more scholarly I am.

Lady Maindhi: (rather authoritatively): Well Mr. President, please let me have your letter immediately. Cannot keep the people waiting any longer!

President: Madam, I would be very happy to give you the letter, but I am afraid this Sammy has shown me the clause of reciprocity under which our citizens cannot hold the office of Prime Minister in the country of your birth, and accordingly you, not having been born in this country cannot become the Prime Minister here. Now if you have someone else in your party, I would be glad to issue the letter to him or her. And, by the way, there is no bar to your becoming a minister, but the objection is only to the office of the Prime Minister.

Lady Maindhi: (turning to Plumber): Hey, Plumber, you are a lawyer, aren’t you? Come on and read the law to the President.

Plumberji (looking downcast): Madam I have been so busy running the party affairs, first with your mother-in-law, and then with your husband that I have not practised law for a long time. I do not know if Sammy has got his onions right?

Lady Maindhi: Never mind his onions, or garlic. Call that stupid Weesingh immediately and ask him where we stand.

Plumberji: Yes, yes, ma’am. (Goes aside and makes a call from his cell phone).

(Loud) Madam, Weesingh says that daft Sammy is right. Madam what shall we do now???

Lady Maindhi (getting up): Well Mr. President, we have to go and discuss this development with my family and other pets. We will be back soon.

President: Any time Lady, any time.

All exit.



***********************


SCENE 2

Lady Maindhi’s residence at 10, Lokpath

Enter Lady Maindhi, Mumble Singh and Plumberji. Lady Maindhi looking visibly agitated mumbling threats and imprecations against everybody. Plumberji in most ingratiating manner trying to suggest to Lady Maindhi:

Plumberji: If I may say so madam, why don’t we recommend the name of your Binacaji? After all she is born here and cannot be disbarred.

Mumble Singh: But Plumberji, Binacaji has said she doesn’t want to enter politics. She and her husband Bobbyji are busy raising funds for the party to fight the future electoral battles. After all we have to think of the nation and its poor people. We must not take Binacaji away from her national duty.

Plumberji: Madam, in that case why not make our Baabaa the Prime Minister? So what if he is not very qualified or experienced. Mumble Singh and I will stand shoulder to shoulder with him and make sure he does not falter.

Mumble Singh (aside): Your shoulder will reach Baabaa’s knees, you rogue. You think you can wheedle your way in and lick the cream.

Lady Maindhi: Enough! I have heard the two of you talking rubbish. Neither Binaca nor Baabaa is going to sit on that chair while I am alive.

Aside: (You think I married that fool in England just to be a dumb housewife listening to that tyrannical mother of his. Thank God she is no longer around to torment us all. For that we have to thank the guards who rose to the occasion and rid us of that monster.)


(Loud): Now we have to think of someone else since I am sure that foolish man with the stupid haircut will be difficult to persuade. Oh I can’t understand why those idiots of the Bhajan Party made him the President? Anyway, his term will soon end and then we will show him his proper place.

Aside: (Just to think how much I have waited for this opportunity, only to be scuttled by that interfering Sammy and this kalam-pusher. Fortunately that Gorbachev finished the USSR and the KGB; otherwise today they would have been at my throat demanding all that money back. Good for them. Their money is now safe in my Swiss bank account where nobody can touch it. Even my dear Lotus, who had a share in it, is mercifully gone, and I alone can operate that account and enjoy its fruits. But how much more delicious it would have been had I become the Prime Minister today. Oh what shall I do now?


Mumble Singh (approaching timidly): Madam I have an idea. Plumberji is the most senior member of our party. He has worked with your mother-in-law, and he served her most faithfully. After her tragic assassination he thought he should have been asked to form the government, but that President Jhadoo Singh, in his infinite wisdom, chose instead to call your dear husband. I beg you, madam, let Plumberji have the post that he surely deserves. His skills in plugging leaks and stemming runaway floods of allies and partymen are well known. He will serve you as faithfully as your family and I will support him at all times.

Lady Maindhi: Thank you Mumble for reminding me of those terrible times. The earth really shook when that mighty tree was felled. By the way, how many of your faith committed suicide to show their anguish at the bodyguard’s foul deed, and atoned for that terrible crime?

Mumble Singh: I believe, madam, there were more than 3500 of them who lit instant pyres using anything inflammable they could lay their hands upon, like tyres etc., and committed sati like the Rajput ladies of yore. Our able members Durjan Kumarji, Tattlersahib, Bagulabhagatji really worked hard to help these martyrs in their cause. It was not easy but within three days they showed what metal they were made of and lit the greatest homage to our fallen leader.

Lady Maindhi: And where were you at that time? Why didn’t you show the same respect?

Mumble Singh: Oh Madam, I had gone to my native place for some urgent domestic work. Also you may recall, I was not a politician then, just a bureaucrat. By the time I came back, your dear husband had said that enough homage had been paid and that the stalwarts of the party had worked tirelessly for too long and they needed some rest. More such occasions could be sought when homage would be paid to the departed leader.

Plumberji: (Interjecting): So madam, should we draft a new letter asking the President to approve my name?

Lady Maindhi: Wait! How impatient you look?

Aside (I can see you are already dreaming about the loaves and fishes of office. I know how you love to eat fish, especially that loathsome Maachher jhol that stinks to high heavens. But how can I forget that you had told that family retainer Jhadoo to swear you in even before my darling Lotus had boarded the plane that was to bring him to Delhi. No, you cannot be trusted)

Turning to Mumble Singh

(Loud) Well Mumble what do you say if we go back with your name instead of mine?

Mumble Singh, overcome with emotion falls at Lady Maindhi’s feet and while trying to look down, cannot but help letting a sly smile creep up to the corners of his mouth.

Mumble Singh: Oh madam, I am so unworthy of this august office that had been held first by that giant among us, your mother-in-law’s father, then by her and after her by that shining star of the country, your late husband. Madam, please reconsider. I am totally unworthy to sit in the chair from which such godlike people, divinely ordained, dispensed justice and largesse among the people of this country.

Lady Maindhi: Oh stop talking nonsense. Didn’t that nincompoop Barasingarao occupy it for full five years? Weren’t you his Finance Minister? So if he can sit on that chair, why can’t you? After all you are also not from the dynasty.

Mumble Singh: But Madam, while I was serving him, I was always looking towards you for guidance, and my eyes were constantly turned towards 10, Lokpath. You might have also noticed that when this imposter died and his followers tried to bring his body into the Party’s Headquarters, how stoutly the party members resisted that move. Did I even utter one word in his favour? No madam, because I knew he was just an interloper, even like the last Prime Minister we had from the Bhajan Party who was prone to writing and reciting poetry at every possible opportunity, instead of trying to do some real honest work. Please madam, do refrain from suggesting my unworthy name.

Aside: (Plumberji, now your goose is truly cooked. Just see how this putli will dance to my tune).


All exit.




******************************


SCENE 3


Back in the President’s office. Enter Lady Maindhi, Mumble Singh and Plumberji.

President: Well, well, Lady Maindhi, have you consulted your family and pets? What is the decision?

Lady Maindhi: Oh, Mr. President, how I wish you were there? You would have heard the most heart-rending cries from the faithful, who just could not understand how that unworthy Submarine Sammy had wrecked all their hopes to see me anointed as the undisputed queen of this land. How they cried and beseeched me to reconsider? Oh what disappointments on their faces when I refused like Julius Caesar who had refused the crown three times? But eventually they understood and reconciled to their fate.

Well, Mr. President, we have decided to make this Mumble Singh here the leader of the house and he shall rule in my place till our Baabaa is ready to take over the command as is his rightful duty. Meanwhile, Mumble Singh will keep the seat warm by placing a sheepskin over the cushions in order not to pollute it with his rather too frequent gassy disseminations. By the way, Mumble, why do you eat so much dal? Why can’t you eat pasta like normal people?

President: A very good decision, Lady Maindhi, I daresay. Mumble Singh has all the qualifications for this office and although he is not an elected Member of Parliament, I am sure you would have thought of a safe constituency for him to fight a bye-election.

Lady Maindhi: No Mr. President, Mumble Singh cannot win an election even from the safest seat in Andhera Pradesh., where my loyal pet would be ready to ensure his success. We will have to think of a Rajya Sabha seat for him. I think Assam would be the right place, what with more than half the population consisting of illegal immigrants. We will smuggle in our Mumble Singh as one more and no one will notice. Anyway, he is hardly audible or noticeable. We will make Google search for a place for him and Google can be trusted to create a residence record for him.

President: Well, in that case Lady Maindhi, you may declare Mumble Singh as the leader and form the next government at the centre.

Signs the letter in front of him.

Here you are.

Shaking Mumble Singh’s hand,” Congratulations Mumble Singhji!. Today you have become the Prime Minister of this great nation. I hope you will prove to be its worthy son! Good luck, and may God Bless you!”

Lady Maindhi, Mumble Singh, and Plumberji exit.

President: Oh my countrymen, today I truly fear for you. The quirks of our electoral system have thrown up this unholy combination like the pot of poison that the churning of the oceans had thrown up. But then there was a God to swallow the poison and hold it in his throat. Today there are no gods and no devatas. Only puny, ambitious people, who will spread this poison among the multitudes, the hapless and the poor. Mark my words; this Mumble Singh is not as innocent as he looks. He nurtures within his bosom the grossest ambition and like Dr Faustus will not be loath to make a pact with the Devil if it gives him the power to rule. His ingratiating smile is the smile of the fox before it pounces upon his prey. Make no mistake; he will ruin this country for sure.

Fade.



*******************************


ACT II

SCENE 1

Five years later. Year 2009. The Hall in the President’s Office.


New President, a lady in a saree is seated in her chair.


Enter Lady Maindhi, Mumble Singh.


Lady Maindhi: Greetings Madam President. As you must know, our coalition has again swept the elections. We have come to you for the formality of your permission to form the next government at the centre.

President: Yes, my dear Lady Maindhi. I was quite sure of these results. After all didn’t we have our own man as the Election Commissioner? How we stuck to our guns and appointed him in spite of the combined assaults of the opposition? I am glad you didn’t give that silly kalam-pusher another term in the office. One never knew what was happening under that mop of his. If that Nevla had not become the Election Commissioner, you may not have been able to get enough seats. You saw how at the last minute your candidates were declared victors even though they were trailing in the beginning. Even that cocky Chewing Gum had to be rescued by Nevlaji. Now you see how important money becomes and its control? Why do you think we have such an interest in cooperative banks?

By the way, I have heard that you have decided to continue with Mumble Singhji as the Prime Minister till our Baabaa is fully ready to take on this onerous responsibility from his aging shoulders. What a day that will be? Once anointed, he will rule till the people completely forget the names of opposition parties and their leaders.

And oh, Lady Maindhi, I hope you have considered my name for the next term. Unfortunately our constitution does not permit more than two terms for the President. Else I would have requested you to keep me here in perpetuity to guide and help Baabaa. Maybe, Mumble Singhji you should think of the possibility of amending the constitution in this respect.

Mumble Singh: Sure Madam President. I will instruct the next law minister to seriously look into it.

President: (signing the letter): Here you are Lady Maindhi. Please go ahead and announce your new cabinet. I shall be pleased to swear them in at an auspicious hour of your choice.

Lady Maindhi: Thank you madam President.

(Aside): You really believe I will nominate you once more? Let your term finish and then you go back to the village from where we plucked you. We need this office for Mumble Singh and Plumberji when my Baabaa becomes the Prime Minister.


(Loud): All right Mumble, let us go. We have a lot of work to do.

Mumble Singh: Yes madam.

All exit.



*************************************


SCENE 2

Lady Maindhi’s residence at 10 Lokpath


Enter Lady Maindhi with Mumble Singh in tow.


Lady Maindhi: Mumble Singhji please sit down. Now let us finalize the cabinet. You, of course, will continue to warm the seat for Baabaa. By the way, have that sheepskin replaced. By now it must be stinking to high heavens. I don’t know when Baabaa will be ready and it may happen anytime; so I suggest you change the covering every week.

Mumble Singh: As you please Lady Maindhi. I will give an order for a new sheepskin to be put on the chair every week.

Lady Maindhi: Good. Now let me see. During the last term of five years we have not served the nation too well. You know, we allowed that Sugar Daddy and his sidekick Playful Petal to skim the cream and now see where they have reached. The first one is controlling the richest sport in the country and the second one has brought our Maharaja to utter ruin while enriching toddy tappers and elfin upstarts.

Mumble Singh: True madam. I am also learning that Sugar Daddy has become the richest man in the world, owning, I believe huge amounts of land in America and God knows where else.

Lady Maindhi: Even I have heard that. Can’t understand what he needs all that money for. After all he has only one daughter and she too is well settled. Now look at me, two children. My girl had to select that scrap merchant without any means, and how hard I have to work to make him respectable. Why, I had to literally twist the arms of that land-baron of Gurgaon to give my son-in-law a small share in his business. And look at Baabaa. He has found this floozy from some drugland and he won’t let go of her. Here I am working my bones off to make both ends meet, and he is gallivanting with her from an American lock-up to god knows where.

Mumble, this time we must not allow these interlopers to do all the service. We must replace them and show the nation who their true well wishers are.

Mumble Singh: Yes madam. May I suggest we keep Sugar Daddy in his ministry of Food & Agriculture? I will make such policies that will send inflation almost vertically up. That will cook his goose for sure. After all I have been with the World Bank for so many years. That is all we do in the Bank anyway. Our policies are designed to make nation’s bankrupt and whole populations destitute. We have a special expertise in this area. By the way I will advise Monty Spudseller to immediately implement the plan to ensure double-digit inflation in fifteen days’ time.

Lady Maindhi: Good. Let Plumberji continue to hold Finance. He cannot read one Balance Sheet from another and his budgets are as confusing as his pronunciation. But he is useful as the oldest member of our party and can be trusted to keep stray sheep in the pen. Also keep Chewing Gum in his Home portfolio. He is a meddlesome fellow and thinks he knows everything. Even as a lawyer he has nothing much to show. I would rather trust his wife more at any time. But he is verbose and uses long, dramatic sentences to say nothing. His put-on accent also helps in keeping news editors amused. Besides, he was too cunning in his previous job where he allowed his son to manipulate the stock market and we have heard that the rogue has made a tidy pile of a few thousand crores through his father’s P Note and other leaks. We will sort that little brat when the time comes, but let us ensure that Chewing Gum does no further damage in this area.

Mumble Singh: Right madam.

(Aside) Fortunately our friendly neighbours from across the border came in with their timely help and sent that Kasai and his team to clean up a bit of our Big City. How I used that opportunity to get rid of that paramour of yours? As Home minister he was a complete mess, though I believe he would spend hours in front of the mirror to try new clothes and hair gels. I don’t know what you saw in him, neither brains nor personality? But then who can understand the mind of a frustrated woman?


(Loud) And madam, may I suggest we give the education portfolio to Kapti Sybil. You know how many split personalities he carries! Every time he raises his eyebrow, like that screen-villain K. N. Singh, he looks so different. Madam he also has a great ability with numbers. He can make any number disappear and make it look like a round figure. He will raise our standards so high that in no time we will have zero illiteracy and zero absenteeism from schools and colleges.

Lady Maindhi: All right. I don’t much like him myself, but he is dangerous and should be kept in good humour.

Mumble Singh: Madam there is a lot of pressure from our ally in the south. His party is our largest partner and he is demanding a number of cabinet posts. Especially he wants cabinet ranks for his son, nephew, and one more that I am not sure if he is his son from a wife we know nothing about.

Lady Maindhi: What is his name?

Mumble Singh: He is called a raja but I am not sure if that is also his name. Maybe he is a prince of some little estate in the hills.

Lady Maindhi: Oh that raja. Don’t worry. He is not the old man’s son. My sources tell me that he is actually his son-in-law on the sly. I believe there is something between this raja and the old man’s daughter who has taken to writing poetry. Anyway, give him the Telecom portfolio. I am sure he will make a very useful contribution in that post.

And tell the old man we cannot accommodate his son, that good-for-nothing Hara-kiri. In fact he should suggest that course for him. The fool cannot speak one word of English or Hindi. What will he do here in Delhi? Even the south Indian stenographers have become extinct in this computer age.

Mumble Singh: But madam we cannot afford to displease the blind, old man. Why don’t we give Hara-kiri Chemicals & Fertilizers? As it is these industries are frowned upon by the green activists and we may soon have to shut them down and outsource our requirements from the poor countries of Africa. If he resists shutting these industries the public will be angry with him, thereby saving us any embarrassment. His lack of communication will also annoy the people and I am sure he will ask us to relieve him of this burden.

Lady Maindhi: Good thinking, Mumble Singh. I didn’t know you had this ability.

Mumble Singh: (Aside) there is a lot you don’t know about me. Just wait and see how I twist you around my little finger. Changing the sheepskin every week! Wait and see how I will keep that yuppie puppy of yours cooling his dandy heels in the party office.


Loud: (ingratiatingly) Madam is too kind. Otherwise what is my worth?

And madam, to keep the old man happy we will give his nephew the Textile ministry. I have heard from my sources that the young man used to run a small garment unit before his father cemented his place in the government. So, he has first-hand experience of the industry. Further, there is not much money to be made here. Recession in the west and Chinese domination of the market will ensure the industry remains in the doldrums. We will upgrade him to cabinet rank so he will be able to flaunt his suits and ties. Quite a dandy isn’t he!

Lady Maindhi: Fine. So I think all the problem people have been taken care of.

Mumble Singh: Yes, almost madam. There remains the matter of that cantankerous woman from Banga. She buys new sarees and then deliberately crumples them up in order to look woeful and poor. I understand she never repeats a saree. Have you seen how her hair is also deliberately unkempt to go with the image? Actually she is an ambitious little witch and will do anything to be able to rule the state. However, we will have assembly elections there soon. Till then let us give her the Railways. This department has been doing without a minister for some time now, and the babus there are actually running it well. The last minister, that mumbling, bumpkin of a fodder-thief found himself completely off his tracks in this ministry and allowed it to run on its own, as he understood nothing of the technology or the logistics. The babus have found the arrangement very useful and have not troubled the minister at all. They would do the same with this Ditty from Banga and we will reap the benefit of trains actually running on time. She will spend all her time and energy in Banga trying to destabilize the incumbent party who have anyway done enough and more to destroy that state. Anybody can win an election against them this time. So, the chances are that Ditty will win and form the next govt. there. We should keep her in good humour and latch on to her sari palloo for some seats in the elections. Once she goes there, she is out of our hair for good.

Lady Maindhi: Smart thinking Mumbleji. Now we must hurry and finish the formation of the cabinet. Swearing-in has to happen tomorrow as it is the most auspicious day in the calendar. The Cardinal himself called me from the Vatican and told me the day and the time that would be most suitable for such a great event to take place.

They start poring over the list of names and filling the posts.


Fade out.



******************************



SCENE 3
Prime Minister’s Office at 7, Ratrace Road

Enter Mumble Singh, addressing the audience

Mumble Singh: Oh! What a relief! Swearing-in is over and all the lip-smacking vultures have got their pounds of flesh. How easily I have manoeuvred the whole lot to my advantage! Another five years! Could anyone have imagined that I would be the Prime Minister of this country for ten years? TEN YEARS. And that too without having to win an election! Yes. Can you imagine me getting my feet dirty in the hustle-bustle of election rallies, running from one dirty village to another, picking up snotty little brats and wiping their bottoms? No, thank Wahi Guru for these mercies. Nobody can remove me from here now. Not that Plumberji, nor that chhokra who would like to be king. Change the sheepskins every week, my foot! What does she think? I am just a windbag farting around all the time? No, I am not a fool. Not for nothing have I been plotting ever since that Submarine Sammy told me about the reciprocity clause. It was destined that I should be in this chair today. Otherwise why would Plumberji have contrived to fall out of favour? No sir, your man of destiny is standing before you today. Be sure you watch his rise and continuous rise!!!

Enter Monty Spudseller

Monty Spudseller: Congratulations Boss! What a brilliant performance! Now what are my orders?

Mumble Singh: Monty, we have known each other for a long time now, even though you are so many years junior to me. After all we have worked for the same great organization that is the foremost expert in making healthy nations sick and completely ruining the sick ones. Now, we have retained Sugar Daddy in the Food & Agriculture ministry. He thinks he is the kingmaker because he has amassed all this enormous wealth. We want to put him in his place so that he never ever dares to glance at the Prime Minister’s chair, which, we know, he covets so much. Let your planning department create a situation where the country has galloping inflation in food products. As a matter of fact, I have promised Lady Maindhi that you will have a double digit rate of inflation within two weeks. So get along with the job.

Monty Spudseller: But sir, the agricultural production figures are very good and it will be difficult to raise the prices when supplies are profuse.

Mumble Singh: What nonsense! It is so easy. Just ask Food Corporation to buy all the food produced by raising minimum procurement prices. FCI doesn’t have enough storage space for all that grain and they will leave it in the open only to be destroyed by the elements and rodents. Simultaneously allow private buyers to buy as much as they can and let them hoard it, by selectively leaking this policy to them. You can depend upon the covetousness of your merchant classes to help you to the maximum in this noble endeavour. Soon your surplus will turn into a shortage. And then see the graph rising! That will put paid to any ambitions Sugar Daddy might have harboured.

Monty Spudseller: Brilliant sir. But what about Baabaa? How do you keep him in check?

Mumble Singh: You are still too young to understand the workings of a Faustian mind. Only when you have mastered all the arts and sciences do you look towards those teachers who can give you the knowledge of total control. I was lucky to have been apprenticed by that artful master Barasingarao who taught me so much. But what I learnt most from him was the art of total “inaction”. You do remember his famous statement; “taking no decision is also a decision”. How do you manipulate people and situations without appearing to be doing anything and yet things happen exactly as you wish and desire? I learnt this from Barasingarao, till then the only person who had completed a full five years as Prime Minister without belonging to the first family. How he managed to destroy the credibility of the Bhajan party by allowing them to demolish a disused mosque would have done credit even to Senor Machiavelli? And the manner in which he fixed those junglees from Jharkhand was just amazing. Have you ever heard of large sums of cash given as bribe for votes being deposited in Bank accounts? Just look at the deep divisions he has left as his legacy. Not even that Mandal-vandal could achieve so much with his cock-eyed policies. It was his ego that got the better of him and his edifice came tumbling down like a house of cards. Now look at me. Do you see any ego? Similarly did Barasingha have an ego? No. That, my dear Monty, is the secret. All these Chewing Gums, Baabaas, Kapti Sybils have huge ego problems. They can never reach the heights that men like me can. The only person who could really be a threat is Plumberji, but his indiscretion in 1984 has sealed his fate. Now just keep doing what I tell you and we both will reap the benefits.

Monty Spudseller: What benefits sir? In our last term what have we made?

Mumble Singh: You are too immature. Is money everything for you? Haven’t you read your Faust? What did he ask for when the devil gave him his powers? Did he ask for diamonds and palaces or any such things? No. All he asked for were some fruit that was out of season and some exotic delicacies. Played some harmless tricks on the Pope. Yes, what he really hankered for most was the kiss of Helen, the queen of Sparta. You see, I do not even desire that. What would you get from the fleeting kiss of a dead queen? After all how much money do you need? Hasn’t the state taken care of all our needs? Is there anything we want that has not been provided? It is only the shallow minds that want to hoard and collect filthy lucre. Look at Sugar Daddy. He may be the richest man in the world, but what good is his money? Cannot even keep his lips straight. And all the time worried about his connections with the resident of Clifton Karachi. What has that connection got him? Maybe a few thousand crores. But is he going to take them with him to the next world? No, all that will remain here. But one word of indiscretion and he is finished. I am sure he must not even be sleeping well. Or look at our patron Lady Maindhi herself. What has she got from all that money she keeps in Swiss banks? She has opened herself to blackmail by Cockroachies and such unsavoury characters. What for? Just a few billion dollars in foreign banks? Now look at me. Could you seriously have thought that I would be requested, yes REQUESTED, to occupy this office by a descendent of the Imperial family? Me, a man without any properties! No money or assets worth the name! But here I am, dear Monty. Listen to me and keep following my instructions. You and I will still make history in this land.
Now go, and put the wheels in motion.

Both exit.

******************************

ACT 3

SCENE 1


Sometime in March 2011


Lady Maindhi’s residence at 10 Lokpath


Enter Plumberji

Plumberji: Good Morning Lady Maindhi. Did you wish to see me madam?

Lady Maindhi: (irritatingly) Yes Plumberji. What is this nonsense going on about corruption in the country? I am being told that the Supreme Court has started asking silly questions about spectrum allocation, commonwealth games, and some foreign accounts. Since when have the courts bothered about such trivial things? Don’t they have anything better to do?

Plumberji: I beg your pardon madam but our chosen people for some jobs seem to have gone overboard and now the media and the opposition parties have got some whiff of the situation.

Lady Maindhi: What nonsense? We had placed very trusted people in charge. Mumble Singh suggested the name of that raja for telecom and Golmali has been the chief of the Olympic Association for as long as I can remember. They have done no corruption. All the money they raised through spectrum sale and contracts for stadia has been fully accounted for and every rupee deposited in our accounts. And, of course, in the process if they have skimmed a few rupees off the top, should it really worry the courts? Ask Bahuji and she will confirm that what I am saying about Golmali is true. After all she is one great book-keeper. You remember when her father-in-law was the chief Minister of UP. It was she who managed all the books. Tell the media to speak to her. As for the telecom guy, he is too daft to even understand what skimming-off-the top means.

Plumberji: Yes madam. But the problem is that the CAG has done some calculations according to which the loss in spectrum sale is a huge number that I cannot even write down on one piece of paper. Similarly the loss in Commonwealth Games has been estimated to run to tens of thousands of crores. It seems our Income Tax department has been snooping upon some Nadia dame whose telephone conversations have been taped. I hear she has been promising heaven and earth to all and sundry. The opposition is asking for answers and won’t permit the Parliament to function.

Lady Maindhi: Oh Plumberji, you are so tiresome. Anyway, isn’t the IT department under you? How did they do such a stupid thing without your knowledge? And as for the Parliament, what difference does it make if it works or not? When has the Parliament done anything even when it functions? These opposition wallahs are just a bunch of buffoons. Throw a few crumbs to them and see how they will crawl. Go and do it at once. You know whom to use for this purpose. Speak to Dumbersing who will arrange everything. Also talk to that Dotty Bukbuk and tell her to shed some crocodile tears on TV. That should soothe some hearts.

Plumberji: Madam, it is not just the opposition. It seems a new beast called civil society has suddenly taken birth. It is a very strange animal. At its head is an old demonetized Anna coin in a dhoti-kurta, while the rest of its body is made of thousands of clones wearing Gandhi caps and claiming to be Anna coins too. This animal is threatening to launch a country-wide agitation if all the skimmers-off-the-top are not put in jail.

Lady Maindhi: But I thought the Anna coins had been taken out of circulation more than fifty years ago. How come they are still around? Why don’t you just put this beast in Tihar jail and be done with it? What is so difficult about it?

Plumberji: But madam, this animal cannot be put in jail. It is the size of a behemoth and no jail is large enough to contain it. We have to do something about it before it gets out of our control.

Lady Maindhi: Ok. If you are so disturbed then throw that raja and his rani into jail. Even dump Golmali there. Anyway he suffers from dementia and cannot remember his own name. If you need to round up a few more people you can throw a few of the IAS officers and some businessmen in there too. Only make sure that the really important ones are not touched.

Plumberji: Like, madam?

Lady Maindhi: Look, I don’t want you to bring any harm to my Aamdani brothers. Especially the older one! I have so much reliance on his expertise in creating wealth from nowhere. He was very well trained by his father. Do you know how close he had become to my mother-in-law? She did nothing without his permission. Unfortunately, the younger one has gone astray. He has made some very silly friends and his wife is no good. That is why he has been throwing rocks at some Miss Universe bimbo. But still, in his father’s memory, I’d like to protect him. You can haul up some of his executives and give them the treatment but do not harm him.

Plumberji: As you say madam. But the head of this civil society beast has threatened to go on indefinite fast if we do not bring in a piece of legislation and appoint an ombudsman that will oversee corruption in the whole country. They want to call him a LOKPAL.

Lady Maindhi: LOKPAL! Why would they like to have a caretaker for my road?

Plumberji: Not your road madam. The Lokpal will be a central authority that will have powers of investigator, prosecutor, judge and executioner. Kind of a multi-headed, multi-limbed being, as we have in our Hindu mythology.

Lady Maindhi: Oh you and your Hinduism! Such a stupid religion! Three hundred crore gods, and yet they cannot find an Indian to rule them. See how within only fifty years after independence from the British they have fallen on my feet to rule them? I tell you, you cannot govern by yourselves. You need a foreigner to whip you into shape. Now here is what I want you to do:

Throw that raja and his rani into jail

Give his job to Kapti Sybil. He will make all the figures that you cannot write on a piece of paper vanish into thin air and show that the loss is one big zero. Next, unleash that Doggy from my kennel and let him loose upon this new beast. He will tear it to shreds in no time.

Tell our pet columnists and editors to start a campaign discrediting the move by the head of this beast. Call upon people like the overbloated editor of Outrageousview and his supercilious, smirking namesake of Waqt Hindustani to write scathing articles and editorials on the proposed fast. Start a blitz on our pet 24x7 TV channels and let our spokespersons Phoney Itwari, Jonty Nattery, with some guidance from Dotty Bukbuk, the screaming Naggarica Behosh and her blinking husband throw every kind of accusation on this beast and discredit it completely. You see it will self-destruct in no time.

Now go and put this whole operation into active mode.

Exit.



********************************



SCENE 2


Sometime in April 2011


No. 10, Lokpath


Meeting going on between Mumble Singh, Plumberji and Lady Maindhi

Lady Maindhi: Mumble Singh, I am told the crowds are getting bigger and bigger at the site of the fast.

Mumble Singh: Yes madam. The old geezer is proving quite a draw, and attracting a lot of young people to his cause. We have tried to dissuade them gently not to be swayed by what he says, but so far it does not seem to have worked.

Lady Maindhi: What do you think we should do? Maybe you should offer to resign. Our Baabaa can take over. He is young like these crowds. I am sure he will be able to strike a chord with them.

Mumble Singh: If you think so madam, I’m most willing to step aside and let Baabaa handle the situation. After all he will have to do it one day. But are you sure this is the right time? Young people are most unpredictable. Also the image of our government is not very bright. You have put the Telecom minister in jail as well as the MP from Pune. A number of senior bureaucrats and noted business barons are breaking bread in Tihar. The CAG and PAC are dead against us. Many more scandals are waiting to be exposed. Do you think we should let these burdens fall on the young, delicate shoulders of Baabaa?

Lady Maindhi: Maybe you are right. So what do you suggest?

Mumble Singh: Madam let us send Kapti Sybil to talk to this village fool. Sybil will twist him with honeyed words and promise him everything. Oh he can be no match for that wily fox. Let him promise that we will make a joint drafting committee with five of their members and five from our side. Plumberji here will chair this committee. Sybil, Chewing Gum, Oily Moily and Halfman will be the other members. Let them nominate any five from their side. I am sure that with Sybil and Chewing Gum they will make no progress at all and after the tempers have cooled and all the agitators have gone back to their homes, Plumberji will announce a breakdown in talks and produce a draft bill that has already been prepared by me. Under this bill we will prosecute everyone who reports any corrupt act while ensuring that nobody of consequence from the government is harmed by it. Even the opposition will go along with us. After all they too have the deepest desire to serve the nation.

Lady Maindhi: Do you think it will work? What if that country bumpkin goes on another indefinite fast?

Mumble Singh: Madam you have forgotten how short people’s memories and interests are? I am sure civil society will see that it has been bested and in order not to look foolish again will desist from repeating its mistake.

Lady Maindhi: Well if you think so, then please put Sybil on the job right away.

Suddenly Lady Maindhi looks ill and collapses on a chair nearby.

Plumberji: (Alarmed) Madam, madam, what happened? Orre koi hai? Jol lao, doctor ke bulao.



Lady Maindhi: Oh I feel unwell. Suddenly my legs seemed to collapse under me. There is a sharp pain in my neck, and my head seems to be reeling. Please leave me now. I need some fresh air and rest.

All exit.

************************


SCENE 3
29th August 2011


No. 7 Ratrace Road, Prime Minister’s Office


Mumble Singh is sitting behind his desk. He is looking quite exhausted. The strain is visible and his face is chalk-white.


Enter Monty Spudseller.

Monty Spudseller: Phew boss! That was a close one. For a moment I thought you had blown it and nothing would save us. Seeing those crowds surging all over Ramlila Maidan, and the support this one Anna was getting across the land, I thought our time was up. I truly thought so. In fact I had told my wife to start packing as we would have to head straight for Washington where there is always a value for my services.

Mumble Singh: Look at me. I have never been so taxed. These last 13 days have been the longest in my life. I had to resort to all kinds of subterfuge, chicanery and plain silence to thwart the members of this civil society. But they seem to have anticipated all our moves and cut through us like a swarm of locusts. Even I thought that I had overplayed my hand and I may have to quit and retire into the moonlight. You at least can still go back to Washington. Where will I go? Even that humble apartment in Assam is a bogus address and I have never paid any rent. The landlord will not let me even enter. Eventually, I may also have to take asylum in America. I hope that Bush remembers how much I flattered him and told him that all Indians love him madly. But, then I recall how mentally deficient he is. By now I am sure he has forgotten all about me or India or even about Iraq.

Monty Spudseller: Quite so. But now don’t you think the situation is under control?

Mumble Singh: For the time being, yes. You see, it was I who suggested that we form a committee and appoint five of our ministers on it. The idea was to string the civil society members along and then ditch the whole process. That part of the script has worked beautifully. Plumberji and his committee stand completely exposed as a bunch of cheats. These five were the closest threats to my continuance as the Prime Minister. Now they are neutralized. Baabaa will always remain a threat, but I had to plan my move with him with utmost caution.

Monty Spudseller: I don’t quite follow how you have removed his threat.

Mumble Singh: You are still a kid. Fortunately Wahe Guru came to my aid. He struck Lady Maindhi with a dreadful ailment which has forced her to go abroad for immediate treatment. Naturally Binaca with her husband accompanied her. Baabaa too had to go and keep an eye on his brother-in-law. You never know when he might make Lady Maindhi sign some papers that would give him control over the Swiss accounts. These scrap merchants can never be trusted.

With the Maindhi clan out of my hair, I could plan my course without hindrance. First I let Sybil and Chewing Gum detain and send the Anna to Tihar jail. That I knew would create immense anger against them. Then I ordered his unconditional release the same evening. I let him have his Maidan where he could stage his fast. For the next eight days I let him stew in his own juice. You see, I know he has a lot of resilience, having been in the army for some years. When I felt the time had come I allowed some middlemen like a model-turned-godman to intervene. This was all eyewash. These middlemen were made to talk to Plumberji, Kapti Sybil and Halfman. I made it seem as if the government was willing to negotiate. Every time a breakthrough appeared to happen, I’d scuttle it. The masterstroke was my intervention in the two houses of parliament. All were expecting that I’d make a big announcement. But I kept them guessing and ultimately made it clear that the demands of the civil society would not be met. The fast was now entering a crucial phase. There was desperation on both sides. Again luck helped me. Baabaa’s first cousin, the estranged son of his uncle, put the civil society draft before the speaker as a private member’s bill. This was a godsend. I immediately informed Baabaa about this and he went berserk. “How dare that fat buffoon try to steal a march over me? I’ll show him his place. Tomorrow I’ll make an intervention in Parliament that will make history. Then we will see who becomes the true heir of the family throne!” he said.

Well, then you know what happened next. Baabaa made his intervention. I had already got it drafted for him and all he had to do was to read it from his ipad. And what a performance he gave? Clenching his fists and speaking as if he was declaring war on an enemy, he played the role of the pugnacious brat to the hilt.

That speech of his, my dear Monty, has finally removed any remaining aura he may have had. You should have seen the outrage in the public. People were marching from all over Delhi to his house to express their anger. Cleverly, I arranged to shut down the Metro stations near his residence. That caused more inconvenience to the public and built more resentment against him. Today I can say with confidence that Baabaa will not be any threat to me for the rest of the term of my government. His mother, if she returns from wherever she is getting treated, will not be able to tell me to keep the seat warm for her darling son. Changing the sheepskins every week! Let us see now who has the last laugh!! Ha! Ha! Ha!


Fade Out


THE END





Thursday, September 22, 2011

No, Arundhati Roy is not Anna!

I know Anna Hazare is not Arundhati Roy. He does not possess her facility with words, especially of the English language. He is just a semi-literate villager, from a nondescript village in Maharashtra; an ex-Havildar of the Indian Army, honourably discharged after service with a minor medal. He cannot claim to have won the Booker or any other glittering award, nor has he written such scathing attacks on the establishments worldwide as Ms Roy has in “The Algebra of Infinite Justice” and “An Ordinary Person’s Guide to Empire”, books for which she must have received hefty sums from publishers. Such is her influence in the literary world that a publisher had paid a royal sum even before the novel “The God of Small Things” was written. I am not asking whose money owns these publishing firms, but you can bet that some “Captains of the Corporate” world would have had something to do with them. Of course, what she did with all that money is not my concern. The lady from Ayemenem is certainly entitled to use it in whichever way she likes.

But I know what Anna Hazare did with the meagre retirement fund that he received after being discharged from the army. He spent it all on his village Ralegan Siddhi in an attempt to better the lives of his fellow villagers. Today Ralegan Siddhi is a model village from where alcohol has been banished, where primary healthcare centres function, where schools have teachers and students. Anna lives amidst his people, in an 8 x 10 feet room in the village temple, and his possessions would probably be less than what a sadhu in the upper Himalayas would have. Some people have complained that he is a dictator and has forced the villagers to abjure alcohol and other evils. I cannot understand how an unarmed man, without a gang of enforcers, can make a whole village to follow his diktats. Unless it is some moral pressure that only those who have led a moral life can command. I don’t know how Ayemenem is doing, because its most famous resident has not lived there for a very long time, and has not enlightened us about its condition. Maybe Ms Roy should pay a visit to both Anna’s village and her own.

There was a time when I used to admire Ms Roy for her bold and forthright views on the dehumanisation of societies at large and the manner in which she used to take on the establishments on matters of human rights, land reforms, and other political and social issues. Almost three years ago when she made her bold statement that “India needs azadi from Kashmir as much as Kashmir needs azadi from India” I had come out in support of her and an article written by me was published by The New Indian Express on 1st September 2008 on its Op-Ed page. I believed that she had understood the Kashmir problem well and had come to the same conclusion that an English journalist, editing a Bangalore journal MysIndia, had written in 1952, that India should abandon its claim over Kashmir, and allow Sheikh Abdullah to realize his dream of independence. Spratt wanted the Indian army to be withdrawn from J & K and all loans to the state written off. ‘Let Kashmir go ahead, alone and adventurously, in her explorations of a secular state’, he wrote. ‘We shall watch the act of faith with due sympathy but at a safe distance, our honour, our resources and our future free from the enervating entanglements which write a lie in our soul.’ Ramachandra Guha, in “India After Gandhi” writes, “Spratt’s solution was tinged with morality, but more so with economy and prudence. Indian policy, he argued, was based on ‘a mistaken belief in the one-nation theory and greed to own the beautiful and strategic valley of Srinagar’. The costs of this policy, present and future, were incalculable. Rather than give Kashmir special privileges and create resentment elsewhere in India, it was best to let the state go. As things stood, however, Kashmir ‘was in the grip of two armies glaring at each other in a state of armed neutrality. It may suit a handful of people to see the indefinite continuance of this ghastly situation. But the Indian taxpayer is paying through his nose for the precarious privilege of claiming Kashmir as part of India on the basis of all the giving on India’s side and all the taking on Kashmir’s side’.”

Subsequent events proved that her Kashmir slogan was nothing but a call for the vivisection of this nation; her call for Azadi but a hollow statement when she said “Indian government is a hollow superpower, and I dissociate from it.” Comparing the protests in Kashmir to the protests of the naxals operating in central India and elsewhere, she made the statement that “bows and arrows in adivasis hands and stones in the hands of the Kashmiri youngsters are essential, but we need more.” Of course this harangue made from the capital of India won her a lot of admirers, especially in Kashmir, who wasted no time in presenting her with a box of the choicest, and now the rarest of the rare, Amri apples from Shopiyan.

Having dissociated her self from the Indian state, it sounds a bit ironic when she says that Anna Hazare’s means may be Gandhian, but his demands are certainly not. When in October 2010 she came on a platform in New Delhi with the Kashmiri separatists represented by S. A. Geelani, the Maoist like Vara Vara Rao, and even representatives of the erstwhile Khalistan movement, she forfeited her right to speak on Gandhi or his methods. Now to invoke Gandhiji while heaping abuse on Anna Hazare and his supporters is nothing but hypocrisy of the meanest kind. Anna’s demand for a credible machinery to check institutional corruption in public life, through peaceful, democratic means, becomes unacceptable while bows and arrows and stones are the correct means to achieve one’s end. Further, Ms Roy tries to insinuate that because the NGO’s associated with Anna Hazare’s supporters have received funds from American corporates and the Ford Foundation, their motives should automatically become suspect. For Ms Roy’s information, The Indian Institution of Management Calcutta (IIMC), an institution where the PM was seen awarding the diplomas, was also funded by the Ford Foundation, while a sizeable number of its early faculty members were drawn from the Sloane School of Management, MIT. By Ms Roy’s logic, the IIMC should also be “suspect” as it has been founded with “tainted” money.

To suggest that Anna’s demand for a Jan Lokpal is a Corporate stunt created by its captive media for control of infrastructure and the natural resources of the nation, through the foreign-funded NGO’s is as preposterous as her statement that “we’re watching India being carved up in war for suzerainty that is as deadly as any battle waged by the warlords of Afghanistan…” and deserves to be dismissed with equal contempt. Her command over the English language may continue to stir, but no amount of perfect English can take away the charm of the childish smile of the new Gandhi, Anna Hazare!