The unfolding tragedy that is the Congress Party

So the other night I was sitting up late, various random thoughts competing as usual for my attention such as which part of Chotta Rajan was actually chotta and how the great state of Bihar was slowly but surely ensuring every member of Laloo Prasad Yadav's family spent some time as either Chief or Dep. Chief Minister (3 down, 8 to go) 

As is often the case with this sort of late-night rumination, I felt emotions ranging from solid indifference to existential despair and everything in between. In the end, however, I mostly cast aside anything too strong in favour of a cold shower and warm bed. 

Not tonight, though. 

Tonight I appear to be reflecting and I realised that over the past year, I have been pissed off at a lot of things. The list includes the steady overcrowding on the morning commute, people who play their music too loud through their headphones, Donald Trump, every single Indian news anchor, and Justin Beiber. 

But, and this one took me somewhat by surprise, the one thing that has consistently infuriated me over the past twelve months is India’s Congress Party. 

Let’s set last year's election results to one side. Let’s even put it down to anti-incumbency and the electorate's appetite for a change. I’m no expert, but I know that’s normal in politics. The Congress was pretty much wiped out, but let’s not dwell on that fact either. They were up against a PR machine; a fiery and charismatic leader with an abnormally large chest measurement, and it turned out to be a no-contest. 

We could mull over the reasons for such a colossal defeat, but again I don’t think we would come up with anything that hasn’t been mentioned before. There was the hubris, the astounding lack of remorse for a spectacularly corrupt second term, an arrogance in the face of a resurgent Opposition, and a nauseating sense of entitlement - of having some sort of divine right to govern. The outcome was really no surprise. 

We can look closer at the campaign itself - and all the ironies along the way. We had a spokesperson of this so-called pro-poor party actually the use the word ‘chaiwala’ or 'tea-boy' as a derogatory term (a stunning demonstration of how to effectively alienate your base), an incumbent Prime Minister of supposedly impeccable honesty and integrity presiding over epic financial impropriety, a Grand Old Party that extolled the virtues of social democracy but was run by one woman as a personal fiefdom, and to top it all off we had some of their esteemed leaders label their main challenger ‘power-hungry’ and ‘dictatorial’. The pot called the kettle black so many times it was charged with inciting racial hatred. 

And what of their candidate itself? Ah, yes, Rahul Gandhi. Affectionately known as RaGa to some, and Pappu to others. Although never officially the candidate, he was also never officially NOT the candidate, which, given his lineage and last name, sort of made him the candidate. There was the car-crash televised interview (preserved on YouTube for posterity), the Jupiter-escape-velocity science lesson, and an assortment of other gems along the way. It was as if the Congress Party thought we were all idiots. 

The thing is, most people don’t think he should be leader of any organisation comprised entirely of adults. I suspect a large number of his party members feel the same. He himself doesn’t seem like the fizziest drink in the fridge, but I get the feeling even he feels this way. So who does believe he can be party leader and future Prime Minister? His mother? Is this really what one of the world’s oldest democratically run political parties has come to? Highly educated, intelligent men and women genuflecting before one woman who happened to be waitressing at the right restaurant at the right time? It’s bordering on the occult, and it’s gone on far too long. 

Even last week, after the latest round of Twitter trolling following an appearance at a college in Bangalore, Mr Gandhi is trying to put on a brave face. He is either cluelessly in denial, or unstable. Worryingly, he could well be both. Amidst all of the comedy that passed for his speech, however, there was a hint of an insight: "In 10 years, there was some fatigue with the Congress. There were some things we did wrong...and we lost the elections. We need to give a new face and image to the Congress." 

New face? New image? Last time I checked, it was the same face and the same image. Face + palm= facepalm. Rahul Gandhi is past the point where he has become a caricature of himself. He seems like a nice enough guy, but by persisting with him, the Congress is proving it is so far removed from reality, they might as well be trying to win elections on Mars in 2020. 

This is a new India. While there is affection and a benign sort of nostalgia for the role that the Congress Party played in India’s journey, there is also a fierce sense that we can and should do better than a political dynasty. Sonia Gandhi seemed to realise that fact when she placed Manmohan Singh at the helm in 2004, but that same nous appears to have deserted her now. 

And what of the party's behaviour since the debacle of 2014? If anyone thought it would be a chastening experience, an opportunity perhaps to be contrite, introspect and attempt to return with humility and renewed vigour, well, you were wrong. They have collectively, and almost without exception, acted like a petulant child whose rattle has been wrested from them. 

A quick roundup: 
Brazenly holding up parliamentary proceedings (quite a feat when you consider there might be more security guards than Congress MPs in the Lok Sabha at the moment), resorting to constant personal attacks rather than meaningful debate, flip-flopping on key legislation, and finding time in between to get obliterated in Delhi assembly elections as well. The fact that they were exulting at their part in the Bihar results where one of the most corrupt politicians of recent times returned to the corridors of power demonstrates how low this once-great party has fallen. To be shameless is one thing, but to seem unaware of shame as a metaphysical concept is something else entirely. 

The real tragedy of course is that it is not just the party’s fortunes that have taken a nose-dive. They may yet recover and at some point in our lifetimes, find a way back to relevance. But what of the present? In the meantime, they have essentially gifted absolute power to a man whose greatest fantasy is absolute power. They have emboldened lunatic cow-huggers and other riffraff operating at the outer fringes of sanity; people who have no business being anywhere near any democratic machinery because their mere presence will short-circuit it. At a time of increasing international instability, if India could not have a sensible party of government, the very least we needed is a mature Opposition. The Great Indian Congress Party has proved it cannot be either. 

And so, we plod on. Swachh Bharat, it now appears, was merely a clever PR buzzword for some old-school ethnic cleansing, a refinement of earlier experiments but this time on a national scale. Make in India only works for you if you were originally Made in India. It is a sorry and increasingly scary state of affairs. 

There was once a dream that was India. Today, the reality seems like a bad dream. Of course, India will survive. To suggest otherwise is to ascribe too much power to one man. He may alter the narrative slightly but will not fundamentally change it. No one person can. Nevertheless, it is infuriating that we find ourselves in this situation. And the fact that the Congress party, with all the tools at its disposal, pretty much allowed it to happen; well, that makes it just that much worse. 

Party's over, folks. Nothing more to see here.

Maria Sharapova and the National Anthem

Before we begin, let's remind ourselves of an incident that took place a few weeks ago. It was the second week of Wimbledon, and Maria Sharapova, in response to a journalist's question, was on record saying she had no idea who Sachin Tendulkar was. 

Cue outrage. 

Within hours, #whoismariasharapova was trending (allegedly) worldwide, while her Facebook wall was splattered with abuse from Indians who saw her statement as an inexcusable affront to a national icon and therefore, by extension, an insult to all of India. 

It is difficult to try and deconstruct what was going on, but given that Sharapova is a Russian tennis star who grew up in Florida, she may not have watched cricket matches growing up or – dare I say it – even at all. Expecting her to know who Sachin is is like asking an Indian whether they know who Wayne Gretzky is. I'm happy to be proven wrong, but I'd say about 9 in 10, assuming they've never lived in Canada, wouldn't have a clue. (The only reason I've heard of the ice-hockey legend is because I had a Canadian friend at university who basically thought Gretzky was a re-incarnation of Jesus. True story.) 

In berating Sharapova for her lack of knowledge about Sachin, we were in fact displaying our own ignorance of her and the global market for tennis as a sport (as compared to cricket). I believe this is called Irony. However, this was conveniently set aside in the orgy of nationalistic sentiment that played out for days after the event. 

A few days prior to this, in the middle of another major sporting event, the FIFA World Cup, I remember having a discussion with a friend about how one particular team resolutely refrained from singing their national anthem before the game. Not a single one of them sang it, pretty much without exception. On the other hand, their opponents appeared to be loudly singing theirs; the tears flowed as they meekly surrendered to the emotion of the moment. 

There seemed to be two (and only two) explanations for this: 

1. The first lot did not know the words. 
2. They knew the words but were choosing not to sing. 

As someone who grew up singing the Indian national anthem (in school, college, even the occasional movie theatre) I found myself thinking this was a bit strange. How do you not know your own national anthem? And even more inexplicably, how could you know it and choose NOT to proudly sing it, on a global stage, at what was surely the pinnacle of your professional career? 

Upon reflection, I realised I was making a somewhat simplistic connection between singing the anthem and possessing a sense of patriotism/affection for your country. There were, in fact, many other possible reasons why those footballers were choosing not to sing – perhaps they were singing loudly in their heads (it's been known to happen), perhaps they were trying to keep their focus on the game, or perhaps they just couldn't sing (which is why they decided to be footballers instead). Whatever the reason, it was their choice, and I was wrong to judge them. 

It struck me that both these incidents (and the discussions that followed) really both boil down to the same thing – that complex, ineffable beast – Identity. 

In the first case, some of my fellow Indians appeared to think their ‘Indian-ness’ was being trampled on by an apparently clueless tennis player. In the second, I was questioning a football team's patriotism for not singing their anthem aloud. 

Both reactions are, of course, absurd. I might know the national anthem, but to claim it makes me more Indian than someone who doesn't is inane. If knowing facts or 'things' about your country is the criteria, what's the minimum number of answers required to pass, and who decides what questions to ask? How many princely states did India have? Who are the Chief Ministers? Governors? How about all the past Prime Ministers? (extra points for the right sequence). Anyone? 

 As someone who was born in one part of India, grew up in another, went to college in a third part, and has now a spent a third of his life entirely outside it, identity is something I have always grappled with, in some form or another. When I was younger, I felt like the constant movement had left me rootless; adrift in international waters, with no sense of home to clutch onto and no familiar shore to swim towards. Today, I know I am all the places I have ever been in, and all the people I have had the privilege to meet and know. And for the most part, I am incredibly grateful. 

I also know that I am by no means alone in feeling this way. Modern travel and technology have enabled people to move without limits, constantly evolving and re-inventing themselves in a manner that would have been considered witchcraft just two generations ago. More people are living and working outside of their home country than at any other point in history. 'Global village' and 'Citizen of the world' are the new mantras, and most people tend not to think of identity merely through the prisms of nationality, language, or even race. 

This doesn't mean the search within each individual does not continue, and that feelings don't manifest every once in a while in myriad, unexpected ways. The 'Who Am I?' question is probably as old as humanity itself. All I can hope for is that the next time I have a conversation about it, I can have it with a bit more understanding, and a great deal more grace. Without those, I'm as bad as the #whoismariasharapova brigade.

Rahul’s Mona Lisa Smile

Is Rahul Gandhi secretly relieved he didn't get picked for a job he didn't want in the first place? 

                                                                                          ©Getty Images 

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see,
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free... 
               - The Beatles, Blackbird (1968) 

Psychologists and behavioural analysts are likely to find Rahul Gandhi a singularly compelling subject. Many have already attempted to deconstruct the person behind the persona; commenting on his inability to make eye-contact, possible attention deficit disorder, and a generally nervous, stand-offish disposition. 

I am not an expert and therefore don't have a professional opinion. However, going purely by what I've seen on TV (obviously not the best way to judge anyone), coupled with my wife’s empathetic insight, it's hard not to feel that if there's one thing that characterises Rahul Gandhi, it is that he seems trapped. Not just trapped in the sense of being a child trapped in a man's body; but trapped within his own circumstances, a situation he was born into and is ultimately unable to escape from (with or without Jupiter's escape velocity). 

It is impossible for any of us to imagine being Rahul, or any Gandhi for that matter. 'Normal' might be a relative term, but with the sort of relatives Rahul has, there's probably been no such thing for him. Much newsprint is devoted to the aspects of entitlement and privilege, but there is another side to being part of the 'dynasty' that we often ignore. For all its supposed benefits, is it the sort of life any of us would choose for ourselves? Does all the security in the world make you feel safe when your grandmother was gunned down by her own guards? 

History attests to the fact that Jawaharlal Nehru was as canny as they come; Indira Gandhi was his natural political heir. But Rajiv (the diffident, stand-offish one) was neither suited nor primed for politics. The mind wanders now into hypothetical territory- how different would Rahul's life had been if his uncle Sanjay had not been killed in a flying accident in 1980 and his father had never been subsequently coerced into entering the fray? 

Rajiv Gandhi was parachuted in to rescue a party teetering on the brink; within four years he was Prime Minister. Rahul Gandhi has been a Member of Parliament for ten years; after the 2009 elections he steadfastly rejected calls to be part of the cabinet of the UPA government, choosing to stick with his self-appointed role of mobilising the Youth Congress. It may have been the only political decision he made of his own volition. 

Five years later, in 2014, he found himself as the 'unofficial' Prime Ministerial candidate, despite never having actually said so himself. Whether or not he truly wanted the job we may never know; but to his credit, he at least seemed to want to provide a half-decent CV for consideration. 

Somewhere along the way, you feel as though Rahul Gandhi felt compelled to take his rightful place in the tangled web that was his life, like Simba taking up Mufasa's mantle in the Lion King because this is the only purpose for Simba’s existence. (It’s a somewhat facetious analogy, but it does the job, I think). He doesn’t really believe the future of the pride land hinges on him, but anyone who means anything to him does. The question is, is there a really a choice? Is he duty-bound to fulfil both his own destiny and the destiny of those around him or could he walk away and risk seeing everything fall apart? Can someone who has already seen so much fall apart legitimately make that choice? 

I would like to think that at some point, even if only in a remote corner of his mind, Rahul realised that victory in this election was simply impossible. I would also like to think that he understood that his presence at the front and centre of the campaign was doing more than harm than good to the party. I would like to think, I really would, that he tried to tell his partymen this, but they didn't believe him; the fools. And even now, I would like to think that he is really just a sad, slightly damaged man-child, chasing a normalcy that we take for granted but he has never known himself. 

The Gandhi brand is to the Congress party what Hindutva is to the BJP; each is both a calling-card and a crutch. Neither party has had a vision (at least until now) that truly extends beyond these core identities. As a result, many found it strange when Rahul himself seemed to undermine the dynasty; questioning its relevance and underplaying its significance. It was roundly dismissed as empty rhetoric. 

But a niggling doubt, long suppressed, now bubbles up to the surface- was he on to something? Was this his way of saying that he was in fact the wrong guy, that we were making a mistake? At several points in what we now know was an utterly ill-fated campaign, he seemed to take a sledgehammer not just to himself, but to the office of the Prime Minister and the party as a whole. We decided he was either a charlatan or a moron. We jeered at the cheesy sloganeering, derided the prime-time interview debacle. 

And yet, and yet, the mind still wonders...could it be? This might have been the only way to prove what he knew all along: the days of The Family were long gone. A new India needed a new vision, a new direction, and he was not the one to provide it. The Congress party needed to reform itself to stay relevant; the crutch had to go for it to grow stronger in the long run. Perhaps a Congress minus the Gandhis might even eventually result in a BJP minus the Hindutva because, in a sense, the latter exists as a counter to the former. 

Fast-forward to the 16th of May when he appears in front of the clamouring press to cap off what has been the party's worst-ever election performance; and another thought crosses your mind, just for the briefest moment. While the vast majority appeared to celebrate India’s freedom from the Gandhi family, was Rahul celebrating a freedom (however small) of his own? You look for signs in the rueful smile; you wonder whether even in the face of staggering defeat, he realises there could have been one thing that was even worse- he could have won. 

But no, this is crazy talk. It involves attributing qualities like intelligence and political nous to someone who possesses these in very limited quantities, if at all. This is simply your mind playing tricks on you, lost as it is in a hazy, post-election fog. It is an attempt to justify, defend, and rationalise the past. And so you switch instead to the future- to what lies ahead. 

In the UK, when a leader of a political party fails to secure an election victory, it is more or less a given he or she will not lead the party again. This means if you are unsuccessful in your first attempt to become Prime Minister, you don't have a second attempt. It is done. 

We are talking about India, however; the land of seemingly endless re-incarnation and re-invention, where some things are always changing and other things stay the same. We are also talking about a Gandhi, and a grand old party that’s on its knees. 

When all the Modi-fication is over and done with, what becomes of Rahul and the Congress? Will lessons be learned, or will we be saying the same things about a different Gandhi five years from now? We can only wait and see.

The strange case of Shanthakumaran Sreesanth: Part 2

A friend of mine recently asked me what I thought would be a good caption for the photo below. 

I thought of a few, but narrowed it down to two: 
It's all about me. 
It went to my head. 

I'm not sure whether either really works as a caption, but that's beside the point. Thinking about the captions made me think about the cricketer, hence this piece. 

The intention is not to pretend to know the mind of someone I've never met, or even to kick a man when he's down. Indeed, some might say we should all just leave him in peace and let him enjoy a relatively normal, (newly-married) life away from the spotlight. 

The reason I’m writing this anyway, is not just because it makes for an interesting character study of a complex personality. The story of Sreesanth is a cautionary tale; a parable for this topsy-turvy modern world we live in. 

Shantakumaran Sreesanth was born on February 6th 1983, which makes him (at the time of writing) 31 years and 91 days old. After a rapid rise through the domestic circuit, he made his senior team debut in October 2005, a few months shy of his 23rd birthday. With a boyhood dream fulfilled while still barely out his teens, Sreesanth appeared poised at the start of a long, glittering career ahead. 

What followed was a more like a train wreck in slow motion, interspersed with the all-too-rare moment of brilliance (including that ball to Jacques Kallis). The wickets still came, but so did the drama, the sledging, dancing, taunting, snarling, crying and swearing. Slowly but surely, Sreesanth was turning into a caricature of himself; he was going from occasional joker to perpetual clown. 

Injuries didn't help his cause, but his temperament always seemed the bigger concern. Eventually, after somehow managing to find the wrong side of nearly all his team-mates, selectors, and even, most memorably, 'Captain Cool' Dhoni, he found himself at the very edge of relevance, from where you felt there was nowhere left to go. 

But this is Sree we are talking about. Just as he could find a 'wonder ball' from nowhere, you could be sure he would find a way to fall even further. And so, on a night in May almost exactly one year ago, he was arrested on charges of 'spot-fixing', a charge he allegedly confessed to during the course of the police investigation. Hooded, hand-cuffed and paraded through the streets like a convicted criminal; he would have felt his world fade to black. A career that had once promised so much had finally reached its nadir. 

It is important to note here that Sreesanth has not been found guilty in a court of law; rumours of vendettas and set-ups are still dutifully doing the rounds, and the man himself has continued to maintain his innocence. 

Incidentally, over the course of his short but tumultuous career, each time he was either dropped or 'rested', he would return claiming things had changed; assuring the fans they would see a 'different' Sreesanth. In reality, however, it seemed like another mask and it would be only a matter of time before it slipped again. So, it should come as no surprise to him that most people are a little sceptical about his denials of any wrong-doing. It’s also somewhat ironic that someone who so often broke his promises to everyone around him eventually went down for keeping his promises to a bookie. 

His arrest sent shockwaves through a cricketing establishment already fairly indifferent to shocks. This was, after all, a double World Cup-winning player, with ability beyond doubt. Why, then, should he have been anywhere near being tainted even by association? In the aftermath of the event, it was a question repeated often; borne out of both puzzlement and profound disappointment at seeing such an opportunity spurned. 

In a sport with cricket’s popularity, in a country of India’s size, it doesn't take a maths whiz to work out that the chances of making it to the very top are exceedingly small. We are literally talking lottery odds. Millions of boys either dream the dream themselves or have it dreamt for them by parents. School teams, private coaching, cricket camps, junior tournaments, State, Zone, Under-19s, 21s,... the road is as long as the list of those who fall by the wayside. 

Talent alone is almost never enough; often a healthy dose of good, old-fashioned luck is required to go alongside hard work and dedication in a far-from-meritocratic system. Oh, and some connections won’t do you any harm. To make it through all this and walk on to a cricket field as one of 11 men representing Team India is to complete a journey of epic proportions. 

I’d have thought that what most people would do next (once they have fully come to terms with the position they find themselves in) is make sure they make the most of it. It is a wonderful thing to be paid (a lot of) money to do the one thing you would gladly do just for the fun of it. Add up the fringe benefits (travel, film-star status, endorsements, etc...) and it beggars belief that anyone would actively seek to jeopardise this. 

So, why do it? It is impossible to try and understand the motivations that drive these decisions without being inside the head of the one making them, but I would venture that at very least, it is a cocktail of pride, selfishness and greed; each chasing the other's tail, each of them a side of a (metaphorical) three-sided coin. It's all about me. It went to my head. 

Jose Mourinho, the master footballing tactician, is known to always outline his belief to new teams that in a collective endeavour, each individual has to subsume his personal ambition to the team mission. This requires sacrifice; a lowering of 'self' to help the team as a whole reach greater heights. It is a simple principle at the heart of every great team's success, sporting or otherwise. And yet, in an increasingly ruthless, get-rich-quick, celebrity-driven culture, it is often the hardest thing for a professional sportsman to do. Sreesanth wasn't the first, and is unlikely to be the last. 

To watch Sreesanth in full flow was to watch a thing of beauty. Classical side-on action, perfect seam position, movement in the air, and healthy pace. Each delivery was like a little symphony, a coming together of science and art; a blend of god-given talent and tireless pursuit of perfection. To hear the sound of timber at the end of it only made it that much sweeter. For a brief moment in time, he was in the top five quick bowlers in the world. But it seemed it wasn’t enough. 

As a fellow Malayali, Sreesanth's rise from a relatively small cricketing state was a source of pride too. A new generation of youngsters in Kerala grew up chasing both his speed and fame. 'Nammude Sree', in the World Cup team. Everything was possible, for him and for us. 

And yet, here we are now; resigned, like him, to watching YouTube clips of the rippers that got Sarwan and Lara in successive overs in Antigua. This is how a dream ends. Not with a bang but a whimper. 

Years from now, regardless of the outcome of legal proceedings, Sreesanth will most likely be a mere footnote in the story of Indian cricket. The tragedy is that he could have been so much more. The reality is that whatever our field, whatever our game, it could have been any one of us.

I am 66 years old...

So this is a little strange... I’ve never really done this before, so I’m unsure about where to begin. I'm officially 66 years old, but in reality I’m a lot older. I'm like one of those grandparents every family has whose real age you don't really know so you just sort of pick a date and go with it. Still, 66 years. When you get to my age, you feel both like you've been around forever and like it all started yesterday. It's been an interesting ride, that's for sure. 

Back in the day, I was a bit of a celebrity, so to speak. Explorers, emperors, traders and all manner of truth-seekers wanted to see me, get to know me, find out what all the fuss was about. Even back then, I was considered both retro and modern- I guess I was a hipster before there was a word for it. I was renowned for my dance, music, multi-cultural roots, and, even if I do say so myself- my natural beauty. I was tipped for even greater things, poised on the cusp of super-stardom. 

Since then, I think most people will agree it hasn't quite gone to plan. That's not to say I've been a complete failure; I've had the occasional moment of glory. The years, however, have taken their toll. I'm a little less sure of myself, a little jaded, just a tiny bit frayed at the edges. I know it will get better- I've been around long enough to know that, but that doesn't mean I don't worry. I keep thinking there are still some things that when they break, you can't always put them back together. Not completely, anyway. 

So here I am; bruised and a little battered, but still standing, still dreaming. It’s going to be an interesting month. The significance of these elections is not lost on me, because sometimes the fate of people and nations can turn on precisely this kind of moment, and I am no different. 

At times like these, my mind often drifts to the past. I think of everyone and everything that has gone before, but I still look hopefully to the future. And to the day, no matter how distant it appears now, when I finally realise my destiny. I am 66 years old. 

My name is India.

Menstrual Man

So today I came across the inspirational story of India's Arunachalam Muruganantham, aka 'Menstrual Man'. A true modern-day hero. 

Please take a few moments to read the full article here.

Arunachalam also figures in a new book by Rashmi Bansal titled 'Take Me Home' which profiles 20 entrepreneurs from small-town India who have built successful businesses in their own backyards (in a manner of speaking). The section on him, aptly titled 'Mad Men' is most definitely my favourite. 

Not least because Arunachalam, in his own incredibly charming and self-effacing way, says things like this: I have many friends who are buying Boleros and Scorpios, wearing big-big chains and they don't put buttons on their shirts. Is that the purpose of the human being life?

India Election Watch #Day4

This week our election coverage continues with not one but two posts (I hope you are suitably impressed). If you are new here, and would like to start from the beginning (or begin from the start) please click here and read from the bottom up and you will soon be fully up-to-date. 

Firstly, it gives me great pleasure to welcome Ad Absurdum's first guest columnist in its eight-year history. Sujaya Jacob is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in politics and international relations. In her first piece for us, she gives her take on what has been (and continues to be) arguably the most widely-discussed tv event in the history of Indian politics- Rahul Gandhi's interview with Arnab Goswami. At last count, it has had over 2 million views on YouTube, and with the general elections just over three months away, it is entirely possible it will have considerable implications for both the Congress party and the country as a whole. 

Aside from politics and foreign policy, Sujaya's wide-ranging interests include writing, fashion, travel, and George Clooney; not necessarily in that order.

Dear Rahul, step away from the Goswamis.

I must admit I heard the jokes and read the memes much before I actually watched the now infamous Rahul Gandhi -Arnab Goswami Times Now interview.(If you have been living under a rock, or are just fortunate enough to be born politically apathetic, you can find this piece of comic relief in its entirety below.)



A number of things struck me about the interview; firstly how intensely and passionately my disdain for Arnab Goswami had grown since the last time I was revelling in his journalistic buffoonery (the Narendra Modi interview? or was it Salman Khan?). How he had somehow become the poster boy for mainstream Indian political journalism and discourse -when did this happen? How did we let it happen? When will it stop? (The nation should want to know!). But that is best left for another time. 

Secondly, and perhaps most significantly, was how incredibly unprepared the young Gandhi was for what was touted to be his tv interview debut; his first sit -down interview in over ten years. I watched as he incorporated women’s empowerment and inclusive economic growth into every question he was asked; a little bit like an aspiring beauty pageant queen and her over-eagerness for world peace. I listened as he tried and failed repeatedly to dodge Goswami’s unrelenting attempts to pit ‘The Gandhi’ against ‘The Modi’ (but Rahul, please answer the question I am asking). I winced as he fumbled awkwardly through what he considered to be the achievements of the UPA’s ten-year tenure in power. I watched as his eyes darted around the room, looking perhaps for a friendly face and a knowing smile (rumour has it big sister Priyanka Gandhi was in the room for the duration of the interview). I sighed as key terms (RTI, anyone?) regularly interjected poorly-structured arguments. And I watched as he referred to himself in the third-person before switching to the first-person with all the grammatical prowess of a shy 5th grader. 

Occasionally, from the darkness of an extremely well lit room, Rahul Gandhi was allowed enough air- time to talk about what it meant to sit through the funerals of his assassinated grandmother and father respectively; what it means to have lived his life with the inescapable looming landscape of Indian political history at his back. However, there is little or no room for sentimentality in newsroom studios crowded with a crew clamouring for instant headlines and showy one-liners. So, while Mr Gandhi’s readiness for political leadership may be debatable, one thing is for sure- he is not prepared for the onslaught of Goswami and his ilk. 

Dear Rahul, step away from the Goswamis.

And so the Delhi experiment, one that started on a cold winter's day in December, has ended 49 days later. Arvind Kejriwal has resigned as the Chief Minister and is now back to being just another 'Aam Aadmi', albeit one who is now preparing his party for the national elections. 

The AAP came to power on a wave of hope and optimism, and much of that has now given way to confusion and despair. Questions remain on what it all means, and whether the AAP is really a viable option as a national party. Others see Delhi as just the first act in a larger political game. Only time will tell. 

In the meantime, however, a couple of folks have weighed in with their opinions. I have been following Captain Gopinath's blog-posts for some time now, and they have always come across as interesting and insightful; particularly when appearing to be at odds with Kejriwal and the AAP, a party he is a member of. His latest post is perhaps, in my opinion, his most articulate yet. It attempts to explain some of the circumstances surrounding the government's early demise, offers a glimpse of what lies ahead, and even takes in a quote by Wordsworth along the way. I would recommend you read the full post here. 

Meanwhile, someone else whose posts I have been following, and whose name I have invoked before, is Mani Shankar Aiyar. In his latest post, probably published within minutes of Kejriwal vacating his chair, he has listed about 20 bullet points- each one mocking the AAP's tenure in power. In fact, you get the sense that this obituary- of-sorts was drafted well before the death occurred; such is the perverse glee that emanates from it. It is an astonishing piece of writing; its triumphant, I-told-you-so note deeply disturbing. For reasons completely different from the previous link, I recommend reading the full post here. 

If these pontifications are intended to come off as brave and defiant in the face of near-certain electoral defeat, I personally don't think it is working. Instead, they are making him look either arrogant, ignorant or in denial, and sometimes all three at the same time. He is starting to remind me of the Iraqi minister who appeared on tv interviews at the start of the Iraq war in 2003, proudly proclaiming that Bhagdad is secure, even as the tanks were slowly rolling up behind him. I am now increasingly convinced that Ronan Keating was thinking of Mr. Aiyar when he sang- you say it best, when you say nothing at all. 

If I was to be so bold as to offer this seasoned politician some advice, it would be this: Please, Mr. Aiyar, please just stop. Please stop listing problems and start listing solutions. And if you are going to reflect, reflect on the state of our great nation rather than the shortcomings of other individuals and political parties. Reflect on the more than 50 years your own party has been in power, and reflect on the reasons why Arvind Kejriwal and the Aam Aadmi Party have come into being. Then, maybe, just maybe, we will listen to what you have to say.

India Election Watch #Day 3

Amid the growing speculation over the past few days that RG will be declared the PM candidate for the Congress, the AAP is discovering the truth in the old adage- a week in politics is like an eternity. If this is true for politics in general, it is even truer for politics in India. Add the fact that the general election is in a few months time, and you have on your hands a political drama that is nearly as compelling as a good Mohanlal movie. 

For one thing, the Congress did not name RG as their PM candidate at their conclave yesterday. Shock, horror. (Genuine shock, horror. Not sarcastic) He will, instead, be in charge of their campaign. His new role began almost immediately as he delivered a 40 minute speech in both Hindi and English with a passion that bordered on inspirational. Question is, is it too little, too late? 

Meanwhile, the sitting Prime Minister Manmohan Singh sat on the stage (Yes that is the end of that sentence because that is all there is to say about it). At various points in the speech, when RG mentioned him specifically by name, he barely turned his head. When the crowd cheered and clapped, he barely twitched his arm. He seems like a man who, having played the part of puppet for so long, is now method acting. The actor is indistinguishable from the character; the man has become his own caricature. It is sad that for a man of his stature, it has finally come to this. Assuming of course, it is actually him. I wouldn't be surprised if they had just placed an inflatable doll on the stage. Come to think of it, a doll with just a few head movements and a serene gaze wouldn't be too hard to conjure up for a party that has been, in some form or another, responsible for far more impressive feats. (And for our next trick, we will make 300 crores of public money disappear *whoosh*) 

In other news in this past week, two of the more articulate ministers in the Congress party chimed in with their own assessments of the AAP. First up was Jairam Ramesh who must have been addressing a group of children at some kind of amusement park. That is the only context in which his statements would make sense. Judge for yourselves: "Don't make fun of them. Making fun of them would be proved wrong" His comments then took on a more philosophical/mythological bent (the children must have been confused) "AAP is like Dashavatar. In different states it can have different avatars." 

This is all very interesting but exactly who is making fun of AAP? Is this what is now passing for serious political discourse in this county? 

Next up was Mani Shankar Aiyar, a man who whose words are a bit like Dennis Bergkamp's goals- when they come, you can expect them to be outrageous. (Editor's note: Apologies to readers who don't follow football, but this blog is committed to supporting sports besides cricket.) 

Here are some of the gems from his opinion piece that appeared in a leading news site: 

"Apart from helping Kejriwal decide whether to brush his teeth with Colgate or Pepsodent, there is precious little that mohalla sabhas (in reference to a model of grass-roots governance currently being championed by AK) will achieve until the constitutional and legal structures are in place."

"...So, even if the AAP's head is in the wrong place, their hearts are in the right place. Not bad for a beginning. They can be taught. They can learn..." 

The combination of condescension and arrogance is both sad and amusing at the same time. By making politics sound like something only an exalted few are able to comprehend and carry out, he is exhibiting precisely the same kind of hubris that plagues the rest of the party. With all due respect, Mr Aiyar, where was all this verbal artistry when one scam after another rocked the country? When anger spilled out onto the streets in the wake of the gang rape in Delhi just over a year ago? 

It is entirely predictable that members of the Congress, having been swept out of power in Delhi, are now taking great pleasure in punching holes in AAP's methods, but people like Mr Aiyar need to remember that for the last decade, and indeeed many years before that, his party had the solemn privilege of governing this great country. They would do well to ask themselves if it is truly- economically, socially and politically- in a better state now than it was then. Everything else is just rhetoric. Leaving aside the percentages and the victory margins and everything else for a moment, how will history judge the current administration? 

Update: Dennis Bergkamp scores again- I mean Mani Shankar Aiyar speaks again: At yesterday's Congress meeting, he was quoted as saying the following in reference to NM (Roughly translated from Hindi) "There is no way he can be Prime Minister in the 21st century... but if he wants to come and distribute tea here we can make some room for him."  

Less said the better.

India Election Watch #Day 2

It is a well-known fact that those people who must want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it... anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.  
- Douglas Adams 

Editor's note: While I am normally of the view that reducing people's names to their initials is both rude and lazy, I fear that over the next few weeks and months there's a good chance I will wear out the letters on my keyboard that spell the names Rahul Gandhi, Narendra Modi and Arvind Kejriwal. I did consider using either just their first or last names but decided that Mr Gandhi, Mr Modi, etc., sounds too formal and Narendra, Arvind, etc., makes me sound like I went to school with them. They will, therefore, be known from here on as RG, NM and AK respectively. Thanks.

What is interesting about these upcoming elections is how much it has become about personalities. There have been elections in India that have been run and won on the back of either personality (or, in most cases, a Gandhi name) but I don’t think there's ever been a straight fight between three individuals like we have with AK, RG and NM. 

In the British general elections in 2010, there was a similar three-way contest between David Cameron (Conservatives), Gordon Brown (Labour) and Nick Clegg (Liberal Democrats). Most of the media coverage was centred on these three individuals, and sections of the British public bemoaned the fact that personality was driving public opinion more than ideology. With the introduction of American-style TV debates, there was even more of a worry that the campaign would turn into a spectacle of style over substance. As it turned out, Nick Clegg, who was unanimously declared winner of the debates, finished third in the polls. This seemed to prove that a sharp suit and good diction may give you a slight lift in the opinion polls, but by no means guarantees victory, something that no doubt came as a relief to many.

There is nothing inherently wrong with building a campaign around an individual. Corporate organisations, sports teams and even mass movements can thrive under a good leader, someone to rally the troops. The danger in doing this in politics, in my view, is that your brand can become indistinguishable from the individual, and individuals tend to disappoint other individuals a lot quicker than policies can. As a result, the brand's credibility can often be seriously undermined by one person's misdemeanours. There are several examples of this in Indian politics, and yet time and time again political parties make the same mistake.

Also, and I think this is even more significant in a non-presidential type of government such as India’s, this does not factor in the importance of a good team. It sounds obvious, but a Prime Minister or Leader of Opposition is only as good as his or her team of ministers. It seems to me that by placing the focus on the team rather than pinning your hopes on an individual, you're more likely to succeed. A cricketing analogy might be stretching the point a little, but- if you have a Tendulkar, Dravid, Laxman and Ganguly in a team, it's almost irrelevant who the captain is. 

I think the Congress was likely thinking along these lines by steadfastly refusing to name a PM candidate in 2004. This ensured all options remained on the table and they were also able to maintain a semblance of inner-party democracy. In 2009, they persevered with the incumbent Manmohan Singh, but in 2014 the equation has changed. With the BJP announcing NM early on as their nominee, the Congress has increasingly been feeling the pressure to do the same. Personally, I think it would be great if they stuck to their policy of not ‘anointing’ anyone, but I think they will and I think it will be RG. 

Perhaps the reason they haven’t done so already is because they know the Gandhi name is no longer an advantage; in fact, in the current climate it may well end up having a negative effect. At the same time, if they name someone other than RG, people will think of that person as a puppet in the Manmohan Singh mould. So it’s essentially damned if they do, and damned if they don't. Which proves my point (sort of) about the importance of a strong team of leaders at the core, something they don't appear to have. 

RG, despite having promised much when he first arrived on the scene, has not done enough in my opinion to be perceived as a legitimate force. I wrote in a previous post about two years ago that he appeared to be infusing new energy into a tired old party and galvanising the youth. For a while, you got the impression that he could make up for lack of political experience with a fresh approach and new ideas. Of late, however, apart from the occasional sound-bite, there has been deafening silence from him on several major issues. Most times he seems inscrutable, even aloof. Perhaps most significantly, he has surrendered the platform of the young leader promising radical change. That space is now almost entirely occupied by AK. 

And what a story AK is. Just yesterday, there were reports that he was not ruling out the possibility of contesting the Lok Sabha election. While even a few months ago, such ambition would have been mocked, the Delhi elections last year changed everything. The AAP will, in one way or another, play a significant part in the national elections. I am not sure yet whether AK himself is a power-hungry charlatan or the real deal, but the advantage he has is, either by accident or brilliant political strategy, he has burst on the national scene at the best possible time. 

In a previous post, I wrote that the AAP has three main things going for it: An incumbent government in shambles, a charismatic leader in Kejriwal, and the tag of underdog; the little guy taking the fight to the big boys. The combination of these factors means you cannot rule out anything. 

The fact that AK is the newest kid on the block also means that people are, for the most part, intrigued. While the scrutiny will be intense, particularly now that he's a first-time Chief Minister, there's a very slim chance people will become disillusioned with him before the general elections in a few months. Put simply, he doesn't have enough time to screw up. Indeed, people may be more likely to give him a little slack, a little patience, a little more time, given the enormity of the task at hand. All these are precious commodities in politics. Moreover, there is no real pressure on him or the AAP to win a certain number of seats. Even with the result in Delhi, there is a sense that it would unrealistic to expect that to repeat nationally. The politics of India is too complex for that. And yet, with the pressure off, AAP and AK can, in a manner of speaking, go out and have a swing with the long handle. Every seat is a bonus. This is a luxury neither the Congress nor the BJP has. 

So here we are- NM, RG and AK. Let the battle commence. Six months is a long time in politics, particularly Indian politics, and we may well see someone else take the job in June. For now though, the focus is squarely on these three men. While each candidate is appealing in their own way, you can't help but think that the three of them combined would make for one decent leader. Jai Hind.

A few things I would like to put out on record before we get any further in the coverage of the 2014 Lok Sabha elections. 

The posts here are purely my own personal opinion. I am not aligned with any political party and am not trying to push any agenda. I am not an expert on political history, parliamentary democracy, right wing-left wing, authoritarian, libertarian, caste-based, or any other form of politics. As a result, some of these posts might come across as shallow, simplistic and mis-informed. If so, please accept my apologies in advance (or in hindsight, depending on the order in which you read this) 

All I am trying to do is share my own perspective on what is shaping up to be a very interesting few months for the world's largest democracy. As an Indian who currently resides outside of India, my view is both of an outsider as well as a citizen who believes these elections will be a defining moment in our country's history. In the true spirit of democracy and free speech, I am happy to be challenged, corrected, or contradicted. In fact, that is the whole point. 

For the few loyal followers of this blog, posts on topics besides these elections will continue, but may be less frequent that usual. How can once-in-a-blue-moon posts become more infrequent, you may be asking. It is a good question. All I will say is that in this new year I have resolved to do a bit less sleeping (except on Mon-Wed and weekends) and a bit more writing. And so I will endeavour to enthral you with even more stories about cricket, chicken, jackfruits, life, death and Mohanlal, to name just a few topics. Please don't delete me from your bookmarks just yet. Thank you. Jai Hind.

India Election Watch #Day 1

Yesterday, for the first time this year, we saw Priyanka Gandhi emerging out of hibernation to attend a "Congress party strategy meeting". It is an altogether predictable move, and follows a familiar script. In the late 90's, when Sonia Gandhi first emerged onto the scene as a politician in her own right, she appeared to rescue the party from the brink of oblivion. The real stroke of genius was that her decision was made to look like it had been made out of a dutiful widow's sense of duty rather than choice. 

In the run-up to the 2004 elections, both Rahul and Priyanka took turns to hit the campaign trail. As speculation mounted as to which of the two would enter full-time politics, Rahul, again the apparently reluctant Gandhi heir, eventually stood and won from Amethi. Ten years later, he has inevitably become the face of the Congress party, and Priyanka has largely stayed away from the spotlight. The thinking seems to be- reduce the overexposure and thereby increase the impact closer to the election. It also re-inforces the spin that for Priyanka, like for the rest of the family before her, politics is not a career, but a service to the nation she feels morally obliged to provide. 

In 2004 and 2009, this approach may have helped increase the margin of victory in Amethi and Rae Bareli, but was inconsequential in the rest of the country. This time, I suspect it will be inconsequential, period. From a PR perspective, my own feeling is that this is a mistake and shows how completely out of step with public opinion the Congress is. 

Two things that have become synonymous with the party in recent times are dynastic politics and corruption. Priyanka Vadra, albeit through no fault of her own, currently embodies both. Yes, she is both charismatic and articulate (and bearing a striking resemblance to Indira Gandhi can help. sometimes.) But the party's near-complete silence in the wake of allegations surrounding her own husband Robert Vadra's business dealings is a serious failing. 

Corruption is without doubt going to be front and centre of this year's election battle, and by pretending it is not an issue, the Congress is hammering the first nail in its own electoral coffin.

The Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) Phenomenon

Even as 2013 slowly disappears into the mists of time, it's worth recalling one event that could yet be a pivotal moment in India's political history. On December 8th, the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP), contesting its first elections since being founded in November 2012, won 28 seats- 8 short of an outright majority. The ruling Congress party (still in power at the Centre) was wiped out, but ended up providing outside support for an AAP-led government. It was a stunning, entirely unforeseen result, but it may well be just the beginning. 

Sometimes a moment gives rise to an individual, and sometimes an individual creates a moment. In either case, the stars align and something special takes shape. Pope Francis came along at a time when the Catholic Church appeared to be at its lowest ebb, and his impact was instant. Similarly, the AAP and Arvind Kejriwal entered the scene just as the sad, final acts of arguably India’s most corrupt administration were playing out. 

The AAP has a number of things going for it- an incumbent government that is now almost fully consumed by its own incompetence and hubris, an enigmatic and charismatic leader, and the tag of underdog (who doesn't love an underdog?) These factors will never exist in unison again. Add to this mix the feeling, however fleeting, that the AAP represents a once-in-a-generation chance to rewrite India's history, and you have near-unstoppable momentum on your hands. 

The Aam Aadmi (literal translation: mango people, but also means ‘common man’; welcome to complex, multi-faceted India!) is a broad category of people that includes not just the nearly 70 per cent of the population that live outside of India’s cities, but also the world's largest middle class. I'm no expert on electoral processes, but I’m guessing if you're a political outfit that has even part of this demographic on your side, you'll win an election every time. 

Suddenly, there is not just a negative feeling of anti-incumbency, but a positive feeling of optimism. Significantly, it is an optimism tempered by reality. The party has gone to great lengths to emphasise both its lack of experience and resources in its bid to take on the two major national parties, the Congress and Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). It is the quintessential David vs Goliath scenario, except there are two Goliaths and so David appears twice as small. AAP’s genius lies in taking these apparent weaknesses and turning them into strengths, even virtues. And so, Arvind Kejriwal, a man who officially entered politics just over a year ago, is Chief Minister of a region at the very heart of India's power centre. Make no mistake, it is a journey of epic proportions, one that rivals Obama's journey to the White House. 

When you make your personal integrity and character an integral part of your politics, your survival is inextricably linked to your own actions. In a sense, this is Kejriwal's appeal. For a common man, he has displayed uncommon political nous. In between the grandstanding and soaring rhetoric, he has reset the political debate, changed both the music and the lyrics. That in itself is huge.

It is a sign of how far politics in India has fallen that a leader who presents himself as a public servant is seen as radical. Arvind Kejriwal has brought ideals and a fresh perspective to a political discourse that for too long has suffered from a poverty of both. He does not have all the answers, and there will no doubt be some mis-steps along the way. But the beauty of a vision for a better reality is that every once in a while it can be a self-fulfilling prophesy. The winds of change, usually no more than a soft evening breeze, are now blowing like a hurricane across the country, bringing with it an ineffable feeling of hope. 

Editor’s note: Over the next few weeks and months, this blog will attempt to chart the key developments in the run-up to the polls in April-May. Whatever the outcome, it's guaranteed to be an interesting ride. 
I hope you will join me.

"You know, I used to say, my daughter is the engine of the family. All of us were like bogies [carriages] yoked to the engine." 

The words of a broken father trying to make sense of his only daughter's death; the result of a brutal gang rape that shook India exactly one year ago. The full, heart-breaking article can be read here.

'Nirbhaya' -the name given to the victim by the media- literally translates from Hindi as 'without fear'. Personally, I prefer the other (similar but not the same) translation: the one who is brave. There is much in the world to be fearful of, and to attempt to be fearless in the face of it is not only dangerous, but pretty much impossible. Fear can sometimes keep us alive. To be brave despite your fear- that is what Nirbhaya was, both on that fateful day and throughout the nightmarish aftermath. 

One year on, she is more than just a loss her parents will never quite come to terms with. She lives on as our daughter, our sister and our friend. Far from being a day to forget, December 16 is a day we must always remember.

Dear Sachin

'The work is done,' grown old he thought,
'According to my boyish plan;
Let the fools rage, I swerved in naught,
Something to perfection brought';
But louder sang that ghost, 'What then?'

-William Butler Yeats

Dear Sachin,
There comes a time in everyone's life where the end of a road is reached. Sometimes you arrive at that point at a time and manner of your own choosing; other times, the end comes to you instead- forced perhaps by circumstance and other factors over which one has little control.

In your case, you've probably had a sense that the end of this particular road was approaching for some time. I suspect you would have gone through a process of acceptance, followed by meticulous planning and preparation. That seems to be your style. Fans the world over have felt obliged to weigh in with their own opinions, but in a few days’ time, once the cacophony around your last international game has died down, you may well feel the timing was spot-on. And so, here we are, at the cusp of the end of an era.

It's a funny thing, this reaching-the-end-of-the-road business. Your entire journey is played back, dissected and analysed. Highlight reels are prepared. Words like 'legacy' get thrown about. For most people, this happens privately; at the most shared between close friends and family. But you are not most people. You are, arguably, the most famous Indian alive. And so, your end-of-the-road moment is being played out by an entire country. It is a collaborative effort. It has become, like your journey itself, a national pastime.

Which brings us to the inevitable question- what next? What happens when you wake up on the morning of the 19th of November and your profession changes from Cricketer to MP? The fact that you have chosen to make a seamless transition into public service suggests a life of solitude is not what you are after.  Quiet or noisy, what shape will the next innings take?

Gymnasts might start before they can barely walk and golfers might play on until they can barely walk, but these are exceptions. For the most part, the primary currency of professional sport is youth, and youth has a funny way of vanishing like the morning mist. And so you retire with your whole life ahead of you. At 40 you may be the elder statesman of international cricket, but in almost any other profession this would be the age when you finally find your feet. It is, in a sense, the 'sweet spot'- that age when you have just enough experience to filter your dreams, and just enough time to turn them into reality.

This most likely already occurred to you when you walked in to the Upper House of Parliament for the first time and discovered you were one of the youngest members there.  This is the amazing thing- despite your remarkable achievements over such a long period, you have so much more to offer. And offer you must, not because you haven’t given enough already or because you owe it to your fellow Indians, but because you are uniquely placed to make a difference. With your profile and the resources at your disposal, you can make things can happen. When you speak, people listen. It is a privilege granted to the very few.

The outpouring of love from all corners of the world over the past few weeks is proof, if any more was needed, of how highly you are held in the public’s affections. You represent so many things to so many people, to the point where it stopped being about cricket a long time ago. You have become- even if against your own wishes- an icon, an emblem, a hero for these troubled times. You are in that small club of public figures that have emerged from the battlefield unscathed, with pride and dignity mostly still intact. There’s probably no President who has been as well known, and no Prime Minister as popular. The adulation often defies logic, but that does not diminish your capacity to bring about change.

What is this change? How does it come about? I am sure you are well aware that the right sort of intervention, at the right time, can more often than not be transformational. Families and communities can be impacted by a single act of giving, sometimes even a few words of encouragement.  Not just sportspersons, but people in all walks of life can continue to be inspired by you, a young boy who dared to dream. Who took on the world and won. Maybe in time, more of us will be shaken from our slumber, our indifference, and our chronic commitment to mediocrity. We may begin to think differently, and share a vision for a different reality. It could happen.

Many different roads now lie ahead of you, but it is more or less certain that a life of anonymity will not be one of them, not while your name is Tendulkar and cricket is still played in India. Someone once said ‘A man spends half his life trying to be special, and the other half trying to be like everyone else'. Perhaps that will be your challenge. But even in the unlikely event that your name does eventually fade from the memory, there may well be another cricketer with the name Tendulkar on the back of his shirt soon, and you will be thrust into the spotlight again. What then?

I apologise if this is in poor taste. Maybe it’s none of my, or anybody else’s, business. This is, after all, your life we are talking about. You have earned the right to do with it as you please, and no-one will fault you for it. Still, the possibility that you might read this was enough reason for me to write it. With the comfort of financial security, and shorn of the relentless expectation of cricketing perfection, you can now take fresh guard. Whichever new road you end up going down, I hope it’s not one that leads directly into the sunset. The crowds in the stadium may not cheer for much longer, but outside, far from the bright lights of the Sachin Tendulkar stand, lies an incredible opportunity.

A nation awaits.

Note: This piece previously appeared in The National with the title 'An open letter to Sachin Tendulkar'. You can visit the page here.

Just to prove that this blog is as committed to meaningful journalism as it is to the finer details of toilet bowls (see previous post), I would like to mention that I ran into the Indian shooting team on their way home from the shooting World Cup in Spain. They were extremely friendly, and happy to stop and chat, even though it seemed like they were on the most roundabout route back to India imaginable. They were also excited that one of their team had won a silver medal.

After chatting for a few minutes, they headed off to catch their flight while I stood and watched these unsung journeymen in their blue 'India Shooting' shirts, far away from the glare of the media, with only their dreams and rifles for company.

Dear Mr President,

Last night I had a dream and you were in it. It was a dream of two parts, but both parts played out in my head in scenes from the movie 'Gladiator'. In the first part, you were standing up in the Emperor's box of the amphitheater with your arm outstretched and your thumb sideways in the air. There was an eerie silence as your thumb quivered slightly, and then a roar as you pointed it slowly downwards. In the second part, you were down in the dust of the arena, wearing a gladiator's armor that was lightly speckled with blood. You took off your helmet, raised your head to look up at the cheering mob and screamed "Are you not entertained?", your eyes ablaze with near-incandescent rage. The crowd continued to cheer while you dropped to your knees and wept. Then everything went dark.

I woke up to the news that you have now rejected another four mercy petitions, and seven more are on the way to you. Afzal Guru, the man whose plea you rejected a week ago, is now dead, killed to satisfy the collective conscience of our great nation. For what it's worth, my own conscience does not feel satisfied; in fact, of late it has been feeling distinctly uneasy. It is unnerving, particularly as it has forced me to examine my own flaws. I suspect there are many who feel the same way, even if only somewhere deep inside their being where these types of thoughts reside. But collective conscience, I assume, is more of a metaphysical thing, something greater than the sum of our individual consciences. I can see why the concept is comforting.

Anyway, I do not want to waste too much of your time. I am sure you have better things to do than read the nocturnal ramblings of a disenchanted citizen. The truth is, I cannot claim to have any knowledge of these people's innocence or guilt, or indeed the pressures that no doubt come with your job. You are, after all, both the Emperor and the gladiator. But before I go, I just wanted to share a little bit of dialogue from another movie called 'Schindler's List' which I would highly recommend that you watch, if you ever get the chance.

Oskar Schindler: Power is when we have every justification to kill, and we don't.
Amon Goeth: You think that's power?
Oskar Schindler: That's what the Emperor said. A man steals something, he's brought in before the Emperor, he throws himself down on the ground. He begs for his life, he knows he's going to die. And the Emperor... pardons him. This seemingly worthless man, he lets him go.
Amon Goeth: I think you are drunk.
Oskar Schindler: That's power, Amon. That is power.

Thank you, Mr President.

The Inmates are running the Asylum...

...is the phrase I associate most often with the situation in India in the aftermath of the gangrape and murder of the young medical student. While a city burns and a people rage, our leaders have sat and fiddled with the sort of indifference that even Emperor Nero would have been ashamed of. Elected representatives, heads of various bodies and religious leaders have all displayed the same levels of bewilderment in the face of what may yet be a significant event in the evolution of a collective conscience. As a leader, saying or doing something that is subsequently perceived by people to be the wrong thing is understandable. Ambivalence is not. 

Meanwhile, as the legal proceedings began, there was talk of denying the accused representation. This will only make a mockery of the judicial process and this terrible tragedy will be even sadder than it is now. Whether we like it or not, those men have a story which is also our story. It is imperative that we hear it.

The Question I Wish I Asked Ms Roy

Two weeks ago when Arundhati Roy floated into a room in London to enthusiastic applause, I sat and gaped like a star-struck schoolboy. There she was, the woman who wrote the book that I've loved more than almost every other book I've read. The woman who achieved Big Things with the God of Small Things. There she was, a vision in lime green, glowing with the sort of grace and charisma that turns nearly-thirty-year-old men into, well, star-struck schoolboys.

Over the next hour, words seemed to come dancing out of her mouth in sentences so delicious you could almost eat them. Sentences that weren't anywhere near as clumsy (and creepy) as that last one. But anyway... my point is, if I hadn't felt like I suddenly needed to learn the English language again (starting with the alphabet), and if I had gathered enough courage to ask for the microphone, and if I had managed to close my mouth and re-open it long enough to actually speak in a coherent manner, and if I could have decided in my head exactly how I was going to address her; if all these things actually happened (and is it any surprise that they didn't?) then this is what I would have asked:

Dear Arundhati/Ms Roy/Mrs Roy/Ma'am,

If you don't mind, I'd like to read a line from a book you might recognise (and at that point I would have held up my copy of The God of Small Things which I had taken along specially for the occasion).

'Ammu,’ Chacko said, his voice steady and deliberately casual, ‘is it at all possible for you to prevent your washed-up cynicism from completely colouring everything?'

I'm not suggesting, of course, that anything you said here today contained any cynicism, whether washed-up or of any other variety. I am worried, though, that cynicism may turn out to be the only natural response to the events taking place in that incredible country we call home. To the point where it becomes a sort of defense mechanism. I worry that our fierce love for India will somehow morph into an equally fierce disenchantment. And that we will, like Ammu, fail to see all that is still truly magical about it. I worry that we will reach a stage where we believe our Humpty Dumpty Broken Republic will never be put together again. That what we've lost will never be recovered.
That we will never again know Love, Hope, Infinite Joy.

Because is it even possible for a country to unsell its soul?

PS- I love you.

The strange case of Shanthakumaran Sreesanth

As much as I don't want to seem like I’m defending him, it appears these days the guy just can't catch a break. You know things are messed up when your own teammates - including your captain - start slagging you off to the press. His reputation, while entirely of his own making, now well and truly precedes him.

While there is no doubt that he needs to tone the aggro down *several* notches, by trying to beat him into submission the team management risk throwing him off his entire game. Trouble is, that way, nobody wins. He will go the same way as Irfan Pathan (albeit for slightly different reasons) and Team India will end up losing their best swing bowling hope since, well, Irfan Pathan.

And let's be honest, how many fast bowlers have there been that aren't at least slightly nuts? Akhtar? Check. McGrath? (more cold-blooded assassin than all-out nutcase, but still- check.) Donald? Check. Almost every insanely quick West Indian? Check.

When he's not making psychiatrists reach for their notebooks, Sreesanth is (according to Wikipedia) a student of psychology himself. Maybe that will help sort himself out.

Didn't work for me, but you never know.