This was one development I didn't bargain for, that too so soon. After treating the BJP with utter disdain and making grandiose statements about their commitment to secularism, Deve Gowda and son have handed over the Karnataka Chief Minister's chair on a platter to the BJP. And the BJP is all set to have their first-ever CM in a southern state.
Gowda and son Kumaraswamy may have made successful even if cosmetic overtures to the semi-urban and rural electorate, but they forgot the basics when dealing with impatient and insecure legislators looking for a way out of President's rule. Faced with the prospect of a split in the JD(S), it was all about clinging on to scraps of power, with arrogance thrown out of the window. But then, at the end of the day, there's still power to wield.
Meanwhile, the man all set to be CM has gone the Jayalalithaa way. He's now Yeddyurappa, an 'i' short of Yediyurappa. Eyeing power without the i.
So no more 'Karnataka Crisis' headlines till Gowda allows the pride he's swallowed to slip out. And the opposition Congress knows that whenever elections come, they can only do better.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
LEFT AND THE PRACTICE OF RHETORIC
It's been a while since the CPM and the rest of the Left parties began their 'we'll pull the plug on the UPA government if they go ahead with the nuclear deal' talk. And with the UPA agreeing to put on hold the operationalisation of the deal, the Left is now on their high horse.
There are whispers of new alliances, with the CPM making overtures to old pals Mulayam Singh Yadav and Chandrababu Naidu. The term 'third front' is again being polished and brought back from the graveyard.
We are seeing a UPA government in paralysis, a Congress pushed to the wall, unsure whether to rally behind the Prime Minister. And Manmohan Singh continues to reflect the perils of being a politician by accident.
Nuclear deal or not, life will go on. Isn't it high time the Congress either unequivocally stood by the deal or jettisoned it to keep the government alive? As for the Left, they seem all the more keen to increase the decibel levels of their bark.
But what about the bite? The Congress may have blinked this time but is the Left ready for the prospect of polls? Electoral arithmetic clearly advises that biting would have uprooted a few teeth for the Left.
Starting with Kerala, the LDF government has been on an alienating spree. Any election would mean a rout, with the opposition Congress gleefully gaining.
In West Bengal, the Left Front will hold fort, but faces erosion in their mass base. The scars of Nandigram are still fresh and the recent ration riots are also an ominous signal.
Any election and the Left faces the prospect of being a less influential pressure group. The best option - cosy up to Mulayam and Naidu and drop hints of a third front.
As for the nuclear deal, there was a lot of hollering but was there ever a debate? Did we hear much more than neo-colonialist and imperialist US and George W Bush? All the statements sounded more like election speeches at Delhi's leftist bastion Jawaharlal Nehru University. The anti-US tirade resembled the enthusiasm with which the JNU Students Union removed a Nestle outlet inside the campus a few years back (being a multinational conspiracy invading JNU)
Not surprising, since Comrades Prakash Karat and Sitaram Yechury are both former JNUSU Presidents, and that's probably the last time they ever faced an election. It's shocking that theoreticians who have never faced an election in their life (I mean panchayat, state assembly, Lok Sabha etc) are deciding whether an elected government should survive. It also takes theoreticians to talk endlessly over an issue which does not affect a vast majority of the Indian people.
Other than Prakash Karat, who has never even been a Rajya Sabha MP, there is only one prominent politician who's always shunned elections, preferring to lead by remote control. None other than Shiv Sena's Bal Thackeray.
Related Articles
HOT CHICKS
There are whispers of new alliances, with the CPM making overtures to old pals Mulayam Singh Yadav and Chandrababu Naidu. The term 'third front' is again being polished and brought back from the graveyard.
We are seeing a UPA government in paralysis, a Congress pushed to the wall, unsure whether to rally behind the Prime Minister. And Manmohan Singh continues to reflect the perils of being a politician by accident.
Nuclear deal or not, life will go on. Isn't it high time the Congress either unequivocally stood by the deal or jettisoned it to keep the government alive? As for the Left, they seem all the more keen to increase the decibel levels of their bark.
But what about the bite? The Congress may have blinked this time but is the Left ready for the prospect of polls? Electoral arithmetic clearly advises that biting would have uprooted a few teeth for the Left.
Starting with Kerala, the LDF government has been on an alienating spree. Any election would mean a rout, with the opposition Congress gleefully gaining.
In West Bengal, the Left Front will hold fort, but faces erosion in their mass base. The scars of Nandigram are still fresh and the recent ration riots are also an ominous signal.
Any election and the Left faces the prospect of being a less influential pressure group. The best option - cosy up to Mulayam and Naidu and drop hints of a third front.
As for the nuclear deal, there was a lot of hollering but was there ever a debate? Did we hear much more than neo-colonialist and imperialist US and George W Bush? All the statements sounded more like election speeches at Delhi's leftist bastion Jawaharlal Nehru University. The anti-US tirade resembled the enthusiasm with which the JNU Students Union removed a Nestle outlet inside the campus a few years back (being a multinational conspiracy invading JNU)
Not surprising, since Comrades Prakash Karat and Sitaram Yechury are both former JNUSU Presidents, and that's probably the last time they ever faced an election. It's shocking that theoreticians who have never faced an election in their life (I mean panchayat, state assembly, Lok Sabha etc) are deciding whether an elected government should survive. It also takes theoreticians to talk endlessly over an issue which does not affect a vast majority of the Indian people.
Other than Prakash Karat, who has never even been a Rajya Sabha MP, there is only one prominent politician who's always shunned elections, preferring to lead by remote control. None other than Shiv Sena's Bal Thackeray.
Related Articles
HOT CHICKS
Thursday, October 25, 2007
OF ANNIVERSARIES AND BIRTHDAYS
October 2007 marks the 75th anniversary of the Bodyline series. Yet another pretext for reams of articles (including yours truly) and sureshot headlines. As it is, anniversaries are grist to the mill, ranging from 100, 75, 60, 50, 25, 20, 10, 5 and many a time one (one year of the Manmohan Singh government, for example).
It could encompass 50 years after the EMS Namboodiripad-led Communist government came to power in Kerala (1957), 50 years after Roger Bannister ran a mile in less than four minutes (1954) and 60 years after the creation of the bikini (1946). There is nostalgia, there is history revisited and reinterpreted and titillation too (can't forget the infectious enthusiasm at the top level for a special show on bikinis).
Then there is the 'coinciding date' which juxtaposes an incident in the immediate past with another in the distant past. When there is a supreme irony nothing like it, for a two-pronged headline and a discussion on TV. September 11 may be just a date, but it's difficult to imagine that Mahatma Gandhi's first non-violent satyagraha in South Africa was on September 11, 1906. The irony was brought out clearly last year, the 100th anniversary of Gandhi's first satyagraha.
'Anniversary' headlines may ensure that the dust is shaken off the pages of history. But what about 'birthday' headlines? A preserve of film stars and cricketers. Here if you are a reigning idol, it's not just about numbers like 30 (mature actor), 40 (still dapper despite stepping into middle age), 50 (aeging but still hanging on) and 60 (evergreen). Any number, from 30 to 70 to the very end are good enough for 30-minute specials with the same visuals and the same thing said over and over again. Especially if you are Amitabh Bachchan, Rajinikanth or Lata Mangeshkar, just to name a few.
The TV birthday explosion was kicked off by the Big B turning 60 in 2002. There weren't too many players then, but the birthday cult and fans swaying to TV cameras had made their presence felt. Rajini had a major 50th birthday bash in 1999, but he didn't get countrywide attention. (Those were the days when there was only one English-oriented news channel and there was no comprehension about the huge English-speaking 'South India' market)
A dash of trivia helps in no small measure. Rekha's birthday happens to be October 10, a day before the Big B. The perfect excuse to showcase song after song with Amitabh and Rekha ad nauseam (Salaam-e-Ishq meri jaan, Rang Barse, Dekha Ek Khwab etc)
The following years saw the Khans, Shah Rukh, Aamir and Salman all crossing 40 and this year Akshay Kumar too has done it. But now 40, 41, 42.......every number is an excuse for a headline and half-an-hour of interviews, film clips and camera-friendly fans swearing undying devotion.
If Bollywood's there, can cricket be far behind? 2003 marked 30 years of Sachin Tendulkar and thereafter every year every Sachin birthday has made it to the headlines. Depending on their form. Dravid and Ganguly too got a look-in. Now it's Dhoni's turn.
It could encompass 50 years after the EMS Namboodiripad-led Communist government came to power in Kerala (1957), 50 years after Roger Bannister ran a mile in less than four minutes (1954) and 60 years after the creation of the bikini (1946). There is nostalgia, there is history revisited and reinterpreted and titillation too (can't forget the infectious enthusiasm at the top level for a special show on bikinis).
Then there is the 'coinciding date' which juxtaposes an incident in the immediate past with another in the distant past. When there is a supreme irony nothing like it, for a two-pronged headline and a discussion on TV. September 11 may be just a date, but it's difficult to imagine that Mahatma Gandhi's first non-violent satyagraha in South Africa was on September 11, 1906. The irony was brought out clearly last year, the 100th anniversary of Gandhi's first satyagraha.
'Anniversary' headlines may ensure that the dust is shaken off the pages of history. But what about 'birthday' headlines? A preserve of film stars and cricketers. Here if you are a reigning idol, it's not just about numbers like 30 (mature actor), 40 (still dapper despite stepping into middle age), 50 (aeging but still hanging on) and 60 (evergreen). Any number, from 30 to 70 to the very end are good enough for 30-minute specials with the same visuals and the same thing said over and over again. Especially if you are Amitabh Bachchan, Rajinikanth or Lata Mangeshkar, just to name a few.
The TV birthday explosion was kicked off by the Big B turning 60 in 2002. There weren't too many players then, but the birthday cult and fans swaying to TV cameras had made their presence felt. Rajini had a major 50th birthday bash in 1999, but he didn't get countrywide attention. (Those were the days when there was only one English-oriented news channel and there was no comprehension about the huge English-speaking 'South India' market)
A dash of trivia helps in no small measure. Rekha's birthday happens to be October 10, a day before the Big B. The perfect excuse to showcase song after song with Amitabh and Rekha ad nauseam (Salaam-e-Ishq meri jaan, Rang Barse, Dekha Ek Khwab etc)
The following years saw the Khans, Shah Rukh, Aamir and Salman all crossing 40 and this year Akshay Kumar too has done it. But now 40, 41, 42.......every number is an excuse for a headline and half-an-hour of interviews, film clips and camera-friendly fans swearing undying devotion.
If Bollywood's there, can cricket be far behind? 2003 marked 30 years of Sachin Tendulkar and thereafter every year every Sachin birthday has made it to the headlines. Depending on their form. Dravid and Ganguly too got a look-in. Now it's Dhoni's turn.
And if you need a crash course in how to say the same thing in five different stories spread over 30 minutes, the answer is to celebrate a celebrity birthday.
It's a sign of the times that Rakhi Sawant's birthday can create hysteria among some news channels. She gets her publicity, the channels get (or think they get) their eyeballs.
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75 YEARS AFTER BODYLINE
The late 1980s. I was hooked on to cricket and vaguely heard about a Don Bradman way back in the past with an average that was well, Bradmanesque.
Then Doordarshan stepped in and the word of Bradman was made flesh and dwelt among us in our living rooms. Only that it was a Bradman shorn of myth and instead facing mortal peril. The stage being the infamous Bodyline series of 1932-33.
The objects of hate to my impressionable eyes were the sinister-looking English captain Douglas Jardine and his instrument of doom Harold Larwood. The two villains with the motive of stopping Bradman at any cost. And Larwood pounded the pitch with scary thunderbolts aimed at the body, with a clutch of fielders behind the leg stump. The Australians wilted, their captain Bill Woodfull hit on the chest by Larwood and Bradman managing just one hundred. The result: 4-1 England.
Another enduring image is of an England batsman badly sick and struggling in the dressing room, while the England innings was collapsing. Jardine virtually forced him out to bat and there he was, scoring runs aplenty and bailing England out. Much later, I realised the batsman was Eddie Paynter.
Paynter owed a lot to the 'conscientious objector' to Bodyline, the Nawab of Pataudi. Pataudi started firmly with a century in the first test, but as the Bodyline clouds enveloped the field, he was shown as opposing Jardine's plans. Which meant Pataudi took an early bow.
The serial ended with images of what happened later to the principal players. I remember feeling gladdened by the fact that after the 'vile triumph' Jardine faced brickbats in England, and didn't play too much after. Harold Larwood never played international cricket again, and in the ultimate irony, ended up settling in Australia. And Don Bradman went on amassing runs unhindered, to reach the Bradmanesque average of 99.94.
But now, 75 years after October 1932, when the English touring party landed in Australia, it's time for less outrage and a bit of grudging admiration for Douglas Jardine. Inhuman as it may have been, Bodyline was a tactical masterstroke which achieved the twin objectives of an Ashes victory and containing the rampaging Don.
And how can you not conceal a sense of admiration for someone who never flinched when given a taste of his own medicine? In 1933, Jardine made his only test hundred at Old Trafford against the West Indies , grinding out 127 in five hours battling Bodyline tactics employed by Learie Constantine and Manny Martindale.
Let's also spare a thought for Harold Larwood, the former coal-miner, who refused to apologise to a holier-than-thou administration and hence never got to play for England again.
As for Pataudi, he kept a distance from the fledgling Indian side of the 1930s and captained India much later in 1946 (in England) when he was way past his prime.
Leg theory was banned but intimidatory fast bowling continues to mesmerise and horrify. From Lillee and Thomson for the Aussies to the West Indian pace quartet of the 1970s and 1980s, the legacy of Bodyline lives on.
And here's a trivia question gauging the impact of Bodyline.
Q: The publication of the first supplement of the Oxford Dictionary was postponed for one particular reason. What?
Hint: It was published in 1933. The delay was to include the definition of a new word (a cricketing term)
Then Doordarshan stepped in and the word of Bradman was made flesh and dwelt among us in our living rooms. Only that it was a Bradman shorn of myth and instead facing mortal peril. The stage being the infamous Bodyline series of 1932-33.
The objects of hate to my impressionable eyes were the sinister-looking English captain Douglas Jardine and his instrument of doom Harold Larwood. The two villains with the motive of stopping Bradman at any cost. And Larwood pounded the pitch with scary thunderbolts aimed at the body, with a clutch of fielders behind the leg stump. The Australians wilted, their captain Bill Woodfull hit on the chest by Larwood and Bradman managing just one hundred. The result: 4-1 England.
Another enduring image is of an England batsman badly sick and struggling in the dressing room, while the England innings was collapsing. Jardine virtually forced him out to bat and there he was, scoring runs aplenty and bailing England out. Much later, I realised the batsman was Eddie Paynter.
Paynter owed a lot to the 'conscientious objector' to Bodyline, the Nawab of Pataudi. Pataudi started firmly with a century in the first test, but as the Bodyline clouds enveloped the field, he was shown as opposing Jardine's plans. Which meant Pataudi took an early bow.
The serial ended with images of what happened later to the principal players. I remember feeling gladdened by the fact that after the 'vile triumph' Jardine faced brickbats in England, and didn't play too much after. Harold Larwood never played international cricket again, and in the ultimate irony, ended up settling in Australia. And Don Bradman went on amassing runs unhindered, to reach the Bradmanesque average of 99.94.
But now, 75 years after October 1932, when the English touring party landed in Australia, it's time for less outrage and a bit of grudging admiration for Douglas Jardine. Inhuman as it may have been, Bodyline was a tactical masterstroke which achieved the twin objectives of an Ashes victory and containing the rampaging Don.
And how can you not conceal a sense of admiration for someone who never flinched when given a taste of his own medicine? In 1933, Jardine made his only test hundred at Old Trafford against the West Indies , grinding out 127 in five hours battling Bodyline tactics employed by Learie Constantine and Manny Martindale.
Let's also spare a thought for Harold Larwood, the former coal-miner, who refused to apologise to a holier-than-thou administration and hence never got to play for England again.
As for Pataudi, he kept a distance from the fledgling Indian side of the 1930s and captained India much later in 1946 (in England) when he was way past his prime.
Leg theory was banned but intimidatory fast bowling continues to mesmerise and horrify. From Lillee and Thomson for the Aussies to the West Indian pace quartet of the 1970s and 1980s, the legacy of Bodyline lives on.
And here's a trivia question gauging the impact of Bodyline.
Q: The publication of the first supplement of the Oxford Dictionary was postponed for one particular reason. What?
Hint: It was published in 1933. The delay was to include the definition of a new word (a cricketing term)
Thursday, October 18, 2007
INDIA AND RACISM
Following the 'racist' gestures aimed at Andrew Symonds in the Mumbai onedayer, a natural reaction is, "These Aussies are so racist. It's high time we give them a taste of their own medicine."
Yes, Australian cricketers have been guilty of overt racism, be it Dean Jones referring to bearded South African Hashim Amla as 'looking like a terrorist' on air, or Darren Lehmann hollering black c***, aimed at the Sri Lankans. And then there's covert racism, where Indian and Sri Lankan players are also no angels. Racist abuse has become part and parcel of sledging, regrettable as it may sound.
But the 'monkey gestures' of the Indian fans at the Wankhede Stadium reinforce the very premise of racism - target only those who can be painted as inferior and primitive. So Andrew Symonds with Aborigine roots is the butt of ridicule. A mirror to a society with deep-rooted caste and religious prejudices.
Indians across the world would be happy to be associated with whites, but when it comes to blacks it's suspicion and disdain. Ranging from South Africa to Uganda, Black Africans have been wary of Indian-origin people, who from the colonial days considered themselves higher in the social scale. Some day I would like to see a film on an African-American in love with an Indian and how the parents react. The one such film I had seen, Mira Nair's Mississippi Masala had given the 'Indians driven out of Idi Amin's Uganda' context to explain the dislike.
The Australian media may have overreacted with ridiculous statements like 'Mumbai fans have a reputation for racist abuse towards visiting players' but the incident and the selective targeting of Symonds can't be washed away. Poking fun is one thing (extending even to calling Inzamam aloo) but creating notions of superiority and inferiority is something else.
Yes, Australian cricketers have been guilty of overt racism, be it Dean Jones referring to bearded South African Hashim Amla as 'looking like a terrorist' on air, or Darren Lehmann hollering black c***, aimed at the Sri Lankans. And then there's covert racism, where Indian and Sri Lankan players are also no angels. Racist abuse has become part and parcel of sledging, regrettable as it may sound.
But the 'monkey gestures' of the Indian fans at the Wankhede Stadium reinforce the very premise of racism - target only those who can be painted as inferior and primitive. So Andrew Symonds with Aborigine roots is the butt of ridicule. A mirror to a society with deep-rooted caste and religious prejudices.
Indians across the world would be happy to be associated with whites, but when it comes to blacks it's suspicion and disdain. Ranging from South Africa to Uganda, Black Africans have been wary of Indian-origin people, who from the colonial days considered themselves higher in the social scale. Some day I would like to see a film on an African-American in love with an Indian and how the parents react. The one such film I had seen, Mira Nair's Mississippi Masala had given the 'Indians driven out of Idi Amin's Uganda' context to explain the dislike.
The Australian media may have overreacted with ridiculous statements like 'Mumbai fans have a reputation for racist abuse towards visiting players' but the incident and the selective targeting of Symonds can't be washed away. Poking fun is one thing (extending even to calling Inzamam aloo) but creating notions of superiority and inferiority is something else.
STING IN THE TAIL
Zaheer Khan clouting Brett Lee for a six. It seemed a faint flicker of resistance before the inevitable surrender. But at the Wankhede Stadium, the flicker expanded its glow run by run, edge by edge, four by four, till 52 runs were added and the target was achieved. Zaheer and Murali Kartik's deeds a far cry from the archetypal surrender the Indian tail is used to. One of those rare moments to savour, when Indian tailenders turn certain defeat into improbable victory.
For a similar ODI moment, one has to turn the clock back 11 years, when Srinath and Kumble put together an unbeaten 52-run ninth-wicket stand in Bangalore to nudge past Australia. After Srinath forgot his batting skills by the mid-1990s, rarely has the tail wagged. Nobody expects the tail to shore up the batting in a big way, but they are also supposed to put a price on their wickets. Over and over again, discipline got lost in either tentative prods or airy-fairy shots.
There have been occasions when the tail capitalised on already huge totals, prolonging the agony of the opposition, such as a Kumble hitting his maiden test hundred at the Oval out of a humungous 664. But a constant ability to irritate and get under the skin of the opposition, the Indian tail has always lacked.
There are cherished individual moments - the outrageous swings of a Harbhajan Singh blade, which are not found in any coaching manual, 'smiling assassin' Lakshmipathy Balaji wading into Mohammad Sami and sending the ball into the stands and Sreesanth's break dance aimed at Andre Nel.
But when individual dazzle and collective will seek out each other, it's victory as Zaheer and Kartik proved. It's time the Indian tail stands up to be counted more often than not.
For a similar ODI moment, one has to turn the clock back 11 years, when Srinath and Kumble put together an unbeaten 52-run ninth-wicket stand in Bangalore to nudge past Australia. After Srinath forgot his batting skills by the mid-1990s, rarely has the tail wagged. Nobody expects the tail to shore up the batting in a big way, but they are also supposed to put a price on their wickets. Over and over again, discipline got lost in either tentative prods or airy-fairy shots.
There have been occasions when the tail capitalised on already huge totals, prolonging the agony of the opposition, such as a Kumble hitting his maiden test hundred at the Oval out of a humungous 664. But a constant ability to irritate and get under the skin of the opposition, the Indian tail has always lacked.
There are cherished individual moments - the outrageous swings of a Harbhajan Singh blade, which are not found in any coaching manual, 'smiling assassin' Lakshmipathy Balaji wading into Mohammad Sami and sending the ball into the stands and Sreesanth's break dance aimed at Andre Nel.
But when individual dazzle and collective will seek out each other, it's victory as Zaheer and Kartik proved. It's time the Indian tail stands up to be counted more often than not.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
COMMUNISM AND TAMIL NADU
Muthuvel Karunanidhi is among the many Tamilians who have at least paid lip service to Communism by naming their son Stalin. In fact, Tamil Nadu and neighbouring Kerala are two states where you find many Lenins and Stalins. Socialist-sounding sops have also helped the grand old man in his rhetoric. Remember last year's electoral promise of rice at Rs 2 per kg.
Which is why it's not surprising that the canny politician recently spoke about his belief in Left ideology to Indian Express Editor-in-Chief Shekhar Gupta. He even went on to say he would have been a Communist if not for Periyar and his Dravidian movement.
It may sound a grandiose statement now from Karunanidhi, but more than five decades back, history did throw up possibilities for Communism to cast its spell over the then Madras State. It's now easily forgotten that the Communists nearly formed the state government in 1952.
Out of 375 MLAs the Congress had only 165, agonisingly short of a majority. Even though the Communists had only 62 seats, they were in a position to cobble together a majority with other socialist outfits. Also the fledgling Dravidian movement was inclined to support them.
The New York Times dated January 24, 1952 shouted, "SOUTH INDIA'S REDS GAIN IN ELECTIONS; 3 Provinces Indicate Trend (Madras, Hyderabad, Travancore-Cochin)-- Nehru Calls Top Party Group to Study Menace.
The Congress wasted no time in their efforts to shut the 'menace'. Madras Governor Sri Prakasa invited the Congress to form the government, despite the party being in a minority. And guess who a panicky Congress sent all the way to helm the state, and negotiate for the extra numbers. C Rajagopalachari, who had been Governor-General of India till 1950, assumed charge as CM. Something like A P J Abdul Kalam becoming Tamil Nadu CM now.
A year later Andhra became a separate state and after the 1956 reorganisation of states Malabar became part of Kerala. Which in turn led to a drastic fall in Communist numbers in the Madras Assembly. But having said that the course of Tamil Nadu could well have been different if the Communists had come to power in 1952. Aspiring to a similar vote bank, being in power the Communists could have checked the rise of the DMK.
Which is why it's not surprising that the canny politician recently spoke about his belief in Left ideology to Indian Express Editor-in-Chief Shekhar Gupta. He even went on to say he would have been a Communist if not for Periyar and his Dravidian movement.
It may sound a grandiose statement now from Karunanidhi, but more than five decades back, history did throw up possibilities for Communism to cast its spell over the then Madras State. It's now easily forgotten that the Communists nearly formed the state government in 1952.
Out of 375 MLAs the Congress had only 165, agonisingly short of a majority. Even though the Communists had only 62 seats, they were in a position to cobble together a majority with other socialist outfits. Also the fledgling Dravidian movement was inclined to support them.
The New York Times dated January 24, 1952 shouted, "SOUTH INDIA'S REDS GAIN IN ELECTIONS; 3 Provinces Indicate Trend (Madras, Hyderabad, Travancore-Cochin)-- Nehru Calls Top Party Group to Study Menace.
The Congress wasted no time in their efforts to shut the 'menace'. Madras Governor Sri Prakasa invited the Congress to form the government, despite the party being in a minority. And guess who a panicky Congress sent all the way to helm the state, and negotiate for the extra numbers. C Rajagopalachari, who had been Governor-General of India till 1950, assumed charge as CM. Something like A P J Abdul Kalam becoming Tamil Nadu CM now.
A year later Andhra became a separate state and after the 1956 reorganisation of states Malabar became part of Kerala. Which in turn led to a drastic fall in Communist numbers in the Madras Assembly. But having said that the course of Tamil Nadu could well have been different if the Communists had come to power in 1952. Aspiring to a similar vote bank, being in power the Communists could have checked the rise of the DMK.
Instead the Congress was firmly in power and failed to gauge the emotional appeal of the Dravidian movement. Communism was reduced to a footnote with some pockets of influence, for example industrial hubs like Coimbatore and Tiruppur. (Kalanemi writes in his blog about growing up in hammer and sickle town Tiruppur).
And their ideals were reduced to props in DMK speeches and films, with MGR the underdog majestically trampling over all the odds in film after film.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
FAREWELL INZAMAM
World Cup 1992. Pakistan vs New Zealand semifinal. It's morning in Thiruvananthapuram and far away in Auckland, Pakistan looks shaky chasing New Zealand's 260-odd score. Coming in at number three, skipper Imran Khan does strike a six, but does not seem to be in a hurry to force the pace. As I head for school, the tactical maestros of the World Cup, New Zealand, looks right on top.
Lunch break time, news trickles in that Pakistan's won. And that somebody called Inzamam had turned the tables. Highlights in the evening, I get to see a baby-faced youngster clouting the ball nonchalantly all over, while smashing 60 off just 37 balls.
Four days later, it's mayhem in the slog overs, Inzamam slams 42 off 35 balls, as Pakistan reaches a challenging score. Again I am in school, missing out on the fireworks. Pakistan wins the World Cup and a legend is born.
The flip side of the legend too is out in the open in the same World Cup. Before the semifinal exploits, the first memorable (not to him though) freeze frame of Inzamam is the hapless batsman caught unawares while an airborne Jonty Rhodes shatters his stumps. In the very semifinal where he packed off New Zealand, it's a run out which sends him back to the pavilion. The first glimpse of a fatal flaw in running betwen the wickets, which haunted him throughout his career.
But there were many delightful occasions, when the lazy elegance meshed with nerves of steel, notably in an unbeaten 58 against Australia (Karachi Test,1994) . His last wicket partnership of
57 with Mushtaq Ahmed ensured a nail-biting one-wicket victory.
In the topsy-turvy world of Pakistan cricket, it's a tribute to his consistency that he was a permanent fixture for over a decade. But come 2003, the same World Cup stage where he had announced his arrival so emphatically, turned out to be a nightmare. A total of 19 runs in 6 matches, Pakistan's disastrous early exit and a scuffle with Younis Khan, Inzamam's stocks hit an all-time low.
The 2003 home series against Bangladesh was tipped as a make-or-break affair for Inzy. Two tests and the first innings of the third, Inzamam was clearly travelling on the exit lane. But one epic knock changed all that. Third test, second innings, for the second time in his career Inzamam's heroics ensured a one-wicket victory. 138 not out in 262 for 9, Pakistan just about averted a humiliating defeat to minnow Bangladesh.
A day later, skipper Rashid Latif was slapped a five-match ban, after being found guilty of faking a catch. The very next day (September 8) Inzamam was captain. A man who was just a whisker away from being dumped, now had the top job. A synthesis of luck and pluck.
Never known for his communication skills, he did not sit easily on the captaincy chair. Ever mercurial, Pakistan cricket veered towards the mediocre more often than not. There was the occasional century, but the carefree youth of old was lost forever. And another disastrous World Cup sounded the death-knell.
But unlike many others, Inzamam did get to choose his own farewell. Pity he finished just two runs short of Javed Miandad's record of 8,832 test runs, the most by a Pakistan player.
As the genial giant bids adieu, let's also not forget that he had a safe pair of hands at slip.
Lunch break time, news trickles in that Pakistan's won. And that somebody called Inzamam had turned the tables. Highlights in the evening, I get to see a baby-faced youngster clouting the ball nonchalantly all over, while smashing 60 off just 37 balls.
Four days later, it's mayhem in the slog overs, Inzamam slams 42 off 35 balls, as Pakistan reaches a challenging score. Again I am in school, missing out on the fireworks. Pakistan wins the World Cup and a legend is born.
The flip side of the legend too is out in the open in the same World Cup. Before the semifinal exploits, the first memorable (not to him though) freeze frame of Inzamam is the hapless batsman caught unawares while an airborne Jonty Rhodes shatters his stumps. In the very semifinal where he packed off New Zealand, it's a run out which sends him back to the pavilion. The first glimpse of a fatal flaw in running betwen the wickets, which haunted him throughout his career.
But there were many delightful occasions, when the lazy elegance meshed with nerves of steel, notably in an unbeaten 58 against Australia (Karachi Test,1994) . His last wicket partnership of
57 with Mushtaq Ahmed ensured a nail-biting one-wicket victory.
In the topsy-turvy world of Pakistan cricket, it's a tribute to his consistency that he was a permanent fixture for over a decade. But come 2003, the same World Cup stage where he had announced his arrival so emphatically, turned out to be a nightmare. A total of 19 runs in 6 matches, Pakistan's disastrous early exit and a scuffle with Younis Khan, Inzamam's stocks hit an all-time low.
The 2003 home series against Bangladesh was tipped as a make-or-break affair for Inzy. Two tests and the first innings of the third, Inzamam was clearly travelling on the exit lane. But one epic knock changed all that. Third test, second innings, for the second time in his career Inzamam's heroics ensured a one-wicket victory. 138 not out in 262 for 9, Pakistan just about averted a humiliating defeat to minnow Bangladesh.
A day later, skipper Rashid Latif was slapped a five-match ban, after being found guilty of faking a catch. The very next day (September 8) Inzamam was captain. A man who was just a whisker away from being dumped, now had the top job. A synthesis of luck and pluck.
Never known for his communication skills, he did not sit easily on the captaincy chair. Ever mercurial, Pakistan cricket veered towards the mediocre more often than not. There was the occasional century, but the carefree youth of old was lost forever. And another disastrous World Cup sounded the death-knell.
But unlike many others, Inzamam did get to choose his own farewell. Pity he finished just two runs short of Javed Miandad's record of 8,832 test runs, the most by a Pakistan player.
As the genial giant bids adieu, let's also not forget that he had a safe pair of hands at slip.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
FROM COUCH POTATO TO GROUND REALITY
Opinions, debates, number crunching, conspiracy theories, a bit of reporting, producing shows for Headlines Today - cricket's entertained and exasperated me over two decades. Two decades of watching cricket matches lazily lounging in the confines of living rooms, or a bit more actively in office and hostel tv rooms.
Just one thing was missing - the feeling of watching a match in a stadium, seeing a Tendulkar in flesh and blood. TV with its innumerable replays and closeups dissects everything for the viewer, but despite being able to wax eloquent on the game I could never say, "I was there."
So here I was heading for Chandigarh on a Sunday night for Monday's India-Australia clash. Not as a mediaperson but as a cricket fan. Early morning we are in a hotel right next to the stadium, and from our room we get a sense of the crowds. A swarm of people heading in one direction armed with loads of posters and banners.
This army brings fear in its wake too. What if the Haryana Cricket Association issued far more passes than seats in the stadium? Ticket scams are something fans are familiar with. Yet they make the long trudge, ever hopeful.
We've got VIP passes and we head towards the Sector 16 stadium, which is staging its first international match in nearly 15 years (Mohali's prospered as a cricket venue over the past decade at the expense of this stadium). Entry point, the cops say no cell phone. The magic word 'media' does not ring any bells for them. The refrain is, if you are media, go to the media section. But then we've already heard there are 300-odd accredited media people aiming for 80-odd seats. The cell phones go straight to the OB van.
I imagined a VIP pass meant that there would be a roof over our heads. Only to realise I was completely out of touch with reality. Here was a small stadium where only the media enclosure and the players' dressing room had roofs. And the sun was in its elements.
Our section had one big tree in the middle, and the early birds had gravitated towards its catchment area. After a short spell in the heat, we too headed for the tree zone. First sitting on the steps and slowly and steadily getting promotions.
In the meantime, Ganguly and Tendulkar too adopted the slow and steady approach. It was like watching a one-day game of the 1980s where 40 for 0 in 10 overs meant a great start. The crowd did not get too much to shout about, with Sachin grinding out only the occasional single while the powerplay was in progress.
We at least had the tree's comfort, sitting in the VIP stand. But what about the thousands who wait for hours to get tickets and are relentlessly exposed to the crushing gaze of the sun? I wouldn't want to be in their shoes.
Vendors arrive with refreshments. Four Tropicana juices and we are poorer by 120 rupees. Prices have indeed shot through the roof when it comes to the cricket fan. Lamb to the slaughter.
While we promoted ourselves from the steps to seats, the runs started flowing. Sachin played a quiet, sheet anchor knock without taking risks. And every single batsman did his bit in keeping the score ticking. And then came the charge, courtesy Dhoni and Uthappa.
I need to concentrate on every ball to savour each moment. Sitting in the stadium, you don't have the luxury of rewinding to what you missed. Replays don't always appear on the big screens there.
The Aussies start their chase. Our focus on the match is interrupted by a verbal altercation. All eyes move to an old man who's furious with some youngsters. Cops step in and one of them sits between the warring groups.
Another flare-up with the old man all agitated. But then Gilchrist falls, and the resulting cacophony drowns out the old man's aggression. A fight stopped in mid-stride.
HRV says Hayden has a penchant for uppish drives, which is why India has a fielder at short cover. The very next ball, Hayden drives and the ball tantalisingly falls just short of the fielder.
There are lots of empty chairs close to the boundary line. Inspiring yet another example of the Indian virtue of jugaad. Some enterprising characters collect chair after chair, one on top of the other, and lo and behold, they are watching the action at a higher pedestal. The cops aren't too pleased though, and eject some of them.
Hayden's on a roll and the shoulders are drooping. But then Ponting falls and the banners are back. There's this enterprising gentleman whose bugle propels the cheering. And Punjabi jokes abound, most of which I can't figure out.
As Kartik and Harbhajan apply the brakes, the cheering becomes louder. I am part of all-encompassing Mexican waves as the buzz of victory gathers steam. Robin Uthappa makes fielding look so easy at the deep, repeatedly picking up and throwing the ball in rapid-fire motion, reducing twos to ones.
And sitting on the stands, you notice sledging, both subtle and obvious, done by both sides. But sitting where we were, we missed out on most of the number one incident, when 12th man Sreesanth taunted Andrew Symonds as he was returning to the dressing room after a defiant 75. We caught on to a bit of it, with all eyes by then pointed towards the dressing room side.
Sreesanth's childish antics I must say are an insult to the practice of sledging. It's part and parcel of the game now, but there is a subtlety to it. A Matthew Hayden can sledge with a smile while half of Sreesanth's energy is wasted in verbal misadventures.
India wins by 8 runs and as HRV said, we witness a footnote in history - India's first ODI win over Australia in over three years (after early 2004).
But all is not hunky-dory. Our cab driver's obstinate certainty takes us to the Himachal Pradesh border late in the night, and we painstakingly retrace our steps. He nearly runs over a couple on a bike, instead of slowing down and asking them the way. And pitches for speed ahead of safety, forcing HRV to ask, aap apne liye ya hamare liye gaadi chala rahe ho.
Even in the cloud there is a silver lining. Immediately after we enter the National Highway and out of the maze created by the driver's penchant for the short cut, we sight Prince dhaba.As their blurb said it is 'good food chew fully'. Only that we couldn't satisfy the 'sleep well' part of the blurb, thanks to the rampaging driver.
The next cricket motto for me is the other blurb which the dhaba had. No 50 50 ask 100 100 Prince's biscuit. Now that Fifty50's been savoured, it's time to watch a test match.
Just one thing was missing - the feeling of watching a match in a stadium, seeing a Tendulkar in flesh and blood. TV with its innumerable replays and closeups dissects everything for the viewer, but despite being able to wax eloquent on the game I could never say, "I was there."
So here I was heading for Chandigarh on a Sunday night for Monday's India-Australia clash. Not as a mediaperson but as a cricket fan. Early morning we are in a hotel right next to the stadium, and from our room we get a sense of the crowds. A swarm of people heading in one direction armed with loads of posters and banners.
This army brings fear in its wake too. What if the Haryana Cricket Association issued far more passes than seats in the stadium? Ticket scams are something fans are familiar with. Yet they make the long trudge, ever hopeful.
We've got VIP passes and we head towards the Sector 16 stadium, which is staging its first international match in nearly 15 years (Mohali's prospered as a cricket venue over the past decade at the expense of this stadium). Entry point, the cops say no cell phone. The magic word 'media' does not ring any bells for them. The refrain is, if you are media, go to the media section. But then we've already heard there are 300-odd accredited media people aiming for 80-odd seats. The cell phones go straight to the OB van.
I imagined a VIP pass meant that there would be a roof over our heads. Only to realise I was completely out of touch with reality. Here was a small stadium where only the media enclosure and the players' dressing room had roofs. And the sun was in its elements.
Our section had one big tree in the middle, and the early birds had gravitated towards its catchment area. After a short spell in the heat, we too headed for the tree zone. First sitting on the steps and slowly and steadily getting promotions.
In the meantime, Ganguly and Tendulkar too adopted the slow and steady approach. It was like watching a one-day game of the 1980s where 40 for 0 in 10 overs meant a great start. The crowd did not get too much to shout about, with Sachin grinding out only the occasional single while the powerplay was in progress.
We at least had the tree's comfort, sitting in the VIP stand. But what about the thousands who wait for hours to get tickets and are relentlessly exposed to the crushing gaze of the sun? I wouldn't want to be in their shoes.
Vendors arrive with refreshments. Four Tropicana juices and we are poorer by 120 rupees. Prices have indeed shot through the roof when it comes to the cricket fan. Lamb to the slaughter.
While we promoted ourselves from the steps to seats, the runs started flowing. Sachin played a quiet, sheet anchor knock without taking risks. And every single batsman did his bit in keeping the score ticking. And then came the charge, courtesy Dhoni and Uthappa.
I need to concentrate on every ball to savour each moment. Sitting in the stadium, you don't have the luxury of rewinding to what you missed. Replays don't always appear on the big screens there.
The Aussies start their chase. Our focus on the match is interrupted by a verbal altercation. All eyes move to an old man who's furious with some youngsters. Cops step in and one of them sits between the warring groups.
Another flare-up with the old man all agitated. But then Gilchrist falls, and the resulting cacophony drowns out the old man's aggression. A fight stopped in mid-stride.
HRV says Hayden has a penchant for uppish drives, which is why India has a fielder at short cover. The very next ball, Hayden drives and the ball tantalisingly falls just short of the fielder.
There are lots of empty chairs close to the boundary line. Inspiring yet another example of the Indian virtue of jugaad. Some enterprising characters collect chair after chair, one on top of the other, and lo and behold, they are watching the action at a higher pedestal. The cops aren't too pleased though, and eject some of them.
Hayden's on a roll and the shoulders are drooping. But then Ponting falls and the banners are back. There's this enterprising gentleman whose bugle propels the cheering. And Punjabi jokes abound, most of which I can't figure out.
As Kartik and Harbhajan apply the brakes, the cheering becomes louder. I am part of all-encompassing Mexican waves as the buzz of victory gathers steam. Robin Uthappa makes fielding look so easy at the deep, repeatedly picking up and throwing the ball in rapid-fire motion, reducing twos to ones.
And sitting on the stands, you notice sledging, both subtle and obvious, done by both sides. But sitting where we were, we missed out on most of the number one incident, when 12th man Sreesanth taunted Andrew Symonds as he was returning to the dressing room after a defiant 75. We caught on to a bit of it, with all eyes by then pointed towards the dressing room side.
Sreesanth's childish antics I must say are an insult to the practice of sledging. It's part and parcel of the game now, but there is a subtlety to it. A Matthew Hayden can sledge with a smile while half of Sreesanth's energy is wasted in verbal misadventures.
India wins by 8 runs and as HRV said, we witness a footnote in history - India's first ODI win over Australia in over three years (after early 2004).
But all is not hunky-dory. Our cab driver's obstinate certainty takes us to the Himachal Pradesh border late in the night, and we painstakingly retrace our steps. He nearly runs over a couple on a bike, instead of slowing down and asking them the way. And pitches for speed ahead of safety, forcing HRV to ask, aap apne liye ya hamare liye gaadi chala rahe ho.
Even in the cloud there is a silver lining. Immediately after we enter the National Highway and out of the maze created by the driver's penchant for the short cut, we sight Prince dhaba.As their blurb said it is 'good food chew fully'. Only that we couldn't satisfy the 'sleep well' part of the blurb, thanks to the rampaging driver.
The next cricket motto for me is the other blurb which the dhaba had. No 50 50 ask 100 100 Prince's biscuit. Now that Fifty50's been savoured, it's time to watch a test match.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
THE SPORTING SIDE OF CHE
He was an avid rugby player despite an asthma handicap and earned himself the nickname Fuser — a combination of El Furibundo (The Raging) and his mother's surname (Serna) — for his aggressive style of play.
He also founded a rugby magazine, called Tackle. He wrote the entire contents under either his own name or a code name, Chang-Cho, which is apparently a play on one of his nicknames, the Pig.
This question was asked at a quiz I went for a few weeks ago. I knew Albert Camus had played football, Hemingway had a passion for bullfighting and that Conan Doyle and Wodehouse had a yen for cricket. But this was unfamiliar trivia. It had to be somebody with a Spanish language connection but Spain or Latin American countries had no rugby tradition to boast of. Our tame guess was legendary Argentine footballer Alfredo Di Stefano.
The answer turned out to be another Argentine, none other than Ernesto 'Che' Guevara. And 40 years after his death, there is a rugby footnote too to the myth of Che the revolutionary icon. The Telegraph has an evocative piece with a photo of Che the rugby player, who's now emerged as an unexpected icon of the Argentine rugby side.
And it's fitting that the 40th anniversary of Che's death coincides with the Pumas' (Argentine rugby squad) surprise entry into the ongoing Rugby World Cup semifinals. A year the outsider breached the inner circle.
He also founded a rugby magazine, called Tackle. He wrote the entire contents under either his own name or a code name, Chang-Cho, which is apparently a play on one of his nicknames, the Pig.
This question was asked at a quiz I went for a few weeks ago. I knew Albert Camus had played football, Hemingway had a passion for bullfighting and that Conan Doyle and Wodehouse had a yen for cricket. But this was unfamiliar trivia. It had to be somebody with a Spanish language connection but Spain or Latin American countries had no rugby tradition to boast of. Our tame guess was legendary Argentine footballer Alfredo Di Stefano.
The answer turned out to be another Argentine, none other than Ernesto 'Che' Guevara. And 40 years after his death, there is a rugby footnote too to the myth of Che the revolutionary icon. The Telegraph has an evocative piece with a photo of Che the rugby player, who's now emerged as an unexpected icon of the Argentine rugby side.
And it's fitting that the 40th anniversary of Che's death coincides with the Pumas' (Argentine rugby squad) surprise entry into the ongoing Rugby World Cup semifinals. A year the outsider breached the inner circle.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
SEEING RED OVER WHEAT
CNN-IBN's special report on substandard wheat being imported from Australia has come as a shocker. Going by this, an Indian peasant is fit to eat what is edible for an animal in Australia.
Australia happily exports animal feed for human consumption, that too a country which 'protects' its people with very strict laws on food and imports. A country where a greeting card with a leaf extract from India did not reach the recipient precisely because the leaf originated in foreign shores. Imagine that in the 1956 Melbourne Olympics, equestrian events were held in distant Stockholm in Sweden, because foreign horses were not compatible with the country's strict quarantine laws.
This Australian hypocrisy fits in with the French attempt to dismantle the ship Clemenceau, riddled with toxic waste, at Alang in Gujarat. But then a developed country giver needs an underdeveloped/developing country taker too. It's worse that the Indian government is content equating the poor with cattle.
Australia happily exports animal feed for human consumption, that too a country which 'protects' its people with very strict laws on food and imports. A country where a greeting card with a leaf extract from India did not reach the recipient precisely because the leaf originated in foreign shores. Imagine that in the 1956 Melbourne Olympics, equestrian events were held in distant Stockholm in Sweden, because foreign horses were not compatible with the country's strict quarantine laws.
This Australian hypocrisy fits in with the French attempt to dismantle the ship Clemenceau, riddled with toxic waste, at Alang in Gujarat. But then a developed country giver needs an underdeveloped/developing country taker too. It's worse that the Indian government is content equating the poor with cattle.
Friday, October 05, 2007
CAPITALISING ON DEATH
Leftist intellectual M N Vijayan is dead. Front page news on Malayala Manorama Thursday morning. There are four pictures splashed across the page. The first shows Vijayan feeling uneasy while holding a press conference in Thrissur. The second - Vijayan is drinking water. the third - Vijayan is back to the mike, all smiles. And the fourth and final picture - Vijayan is collapsing - eyes and mouth wide open as he helplessly slips into death.
A shocker of a picture to start the morning. Was the fourth picture necessary? Is the market the newspaper believes it is pandering to completely insensitive? I am told Malayalam news channels were careful with the visuals but India TV, a Hindi news channel which normally doesn't give too hoots for a story from Kerala in the distant south, played up the visuals over and over again. The entire sequence of Vijayan's collapse was played out, with an 'exclusive' tag to boot. A lesson in how to grab eyeballs out of a tragic death.
This was pure shock value and not even about social outrage, which is invoked by visuals of somebody being lynched to death or mob fury. In such cases too it's about getting there first and creating the maximum impact, with hardly a thought about what images could be disturbing.
And when it comes to breaking news of a bomb blast (Delhi 2005, Mumbai 2006 or Hyderabad 2007) things go haywire. The pressure to show visuals as soon as possible ensures caution is thrown to the winds more often than not. Contrast this with the extra-careful way the American media covered 9/11.
It's no justification but TV news is still evolving in India and there is no maturity or consolidation yet, with so many players competing for their slice in the pie (as well as expanding the pie). But what about pillars of the print media who've been around for ages? Are they falling prey to the sensationalism and shock value encouraged by TV? The market may be king but we could do with a little more sensitivity.
A shocker of a picture to start the morning. Was the fourth picture necessary? Is the market the newspaper believes it is pandering to completely insensitive? I am told Malayalam news channels were careful with the visuals but India TV, a Hindi news channel which normally doesn't give too hoots for a story from Kerala in the distant south, played up the visuals over and over again. The entire sequence of Vijayan's collapse was played out, with an 'exclusive' tag to boot. A lesson in how to grab eyeballs out of a tragic death.
This was pure shock value and not even about social outrage, which is invoked by visuals of somebody being lynched to death or mob fury. In such cases too it's about getting there first and creating the maximum impact, with hardly a thought about what images could be disturbing.
And when it comes to breaking news of a bomb blast (Delhi 2005, Mumbai 2006 or Hyderabad 2007) things go haywire. The pressure to show visuals as soon as possible ensures caution is thrown to the winds more often than not. Contrast this with the extra-careful way the American media covered 9/11.
It's no justification but TV news is still evolving in India and there is no maturity or consolidation yet, with so many players competing for their slice in the pie (as well as expanding the pie). But what about pillars of the print media who've been around for ages? Are they falling prey to the sensationalism and shock value encouraged by TV? The market may be king but we could do with a little more sensitivity.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
FROM ROSES TO RAGE
Gandhi Jayanti 2007 has been worlds removed from Gandhi Jayanti 2006. Last year the media discourse centred around Lage Raho Munnabhai, and how the film desmystified Gandhi for the masses and the youth. Gandhigiri was the buzzword and there was story after story about peaceful protests with flowers. For that matter, any kind of peaceful protest was likened or twisted to a show of 'Gandhigiri.' To be precise, what 'Chak De' is now, Gandhigiri was then.
A year later, forget Gandhi and what he stood for, the 'instant noodles' Gandhian message of Lage Raho Munnabhai has been relegated to history. If Munnabhai was a redemption song for Sanjay Dutt, the actor was behind bars for a while this year after being sentenced in the Bombay Blasts case, and awaits an uncertain future. The last few months have seen a spate of incidents of mob fury, ranging from Bhagalpur to Siliguri. And news channels and newspapers are agog with road rage deaths.
Gandhi would have been shocked by Muthuvel Karunanidhi's vituperative outbursts against Ram, as the DMK supremo anointed himself as the Head Priest of atheism. The soundbyte-happy Ram Sethu debate has been all about disrespect and intolerance. And even more shockingly on Gandhi Jayanti eve, when the DMK's hunger strike call turned into a virtual bandh in Tamil Nadu, Union Information and Broadcasting Minister Priya Ranjan Dasmunsi had the gall to say that by going on hunger strike, Karunanidhi was only respecting the ideals of Mahatma Gandhi and non-violence. Karunanidhi would have emerged with more dignity and no Supreme Court censure if he had restrained his followers from extending the definition of a hunger strike.
This is also the year of an introspective film 'Gandhi My Father' depicting the difficult relationship between Gandhi and his eldest son Harilal and how the Father of the Nation failed to understand his son. Depicting Gandhi the fallible human being seems painfully appropriate in a year which reminds me of the Julius Caesar line, "O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason." A year when a news channel airs a week-long series called 'Murdering the Mahatma.'
Also the year when the Government of India is a mute spectator, while non-violent protests by Buddhist monks are ruthlessly crushed by the ruling military junta in neighbouring Myanmar.
A year later, forget Gandhi and what he stood for, the 'instant noodles' Gandhian message of Lage Raho Munnabhai has been relegated to history. If Munnabhai was a redemption song for Sanjay Dutt, the actor was behind bars for a while this year after being sentenced in the Bombay Blasts case, and awaits an uncertain future. The last few months have seen a spate of incidents of mob fury, ranging from Bhagalpur to Siliguri. And news channels and newspapers are agog with road rage deaths.
Gandhi would have been shocked by Muthuvel Karunanidhi's vituperative outbursts against Ram, as the DMK supremo anointed himself as the Head Priest of atheism. The soundbyte-happy Ram Sethu debate has been all about disrespect and intolerance. And even more shockingly on Gandhi Jayanti eve, when the DMK's hunger strike call turned into a virtual bandh in Tamil Nadu, Union Information and Broadcasting Minister Priya Ranjan Dasmunsi had the gall to say that by going on hunger strike, Karunanidhi was only respecting the ideals of Mahatma Gandhi and non-violence. Karunanidhi would have emerged with more dignity and no Supreme Court censure if he had restrained his followers from extending the definition of a hunger strike.
This is also the year of an introspective film 'Gandhi My Father' depicting the difficult relationship between Gandhi and his eldest son Harilal and how the Father of the Nation failed to understand his son. Depicting Gandhi the fallible human being seems painfully appropriate in a year which reminds me of the Julius Caesar line, "O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason." A year when a news channel airs a week-long series called 'Murdering the Mahatma.'
Also the year when the Government of India is a mute spectator, while non-violent protests by Buddhist monks are ruthlessly crushed by the ruling military junta in neighbouring Myanmar.
Monday, October 01, 2007
HINDI TAMIL BHAI BHAI
Jab Hindustan hai desh hamara
Hindu Muslim Sikh Isai
Aapas main hai bhai bhai
A paean to secularism recited in Hindi at a joint meeting of the ruling alliance in Tamil Nadu on Sunday evening. And who trots out these lines flawlessly in a thick Tamil accent, without consulting a piece of paper. None other than Muthuvel Karunanidhi, the head of the DMK, whose party came to power for the first time way back in 1967 on an anti-Hindi platform.
Listening to the Kalaignar's ode to secularism in the very language he has openly despised, presented mixed emotions - of mirth as well as admiration. The man has tirelessly stuck to 'Tamizh Tai' as his medium of expression, and has rarely spoken in English in public, forget Hindi. (The only time I've heard a near-English soundbyte of his was when he read out some report on the Cauvery issue in English)
Karunanidhi is in no mood to give way on the Sethusamudram project, a long-cherished dream of Dravidian ideology. And at the same time wants to show off that he's part of a secular India and not just a regional politician. A shrewd publicity gimmick stimulating his cadres and creating a talking point for the Tamil public. And an indication to the BJP that two can play the game of whipping up sentiments.
The perfect launch pad for the hunger strike DMK leaders plan on Monday, after the Supreme Court's special sitting on a Sunday restrained them from organising a bandh. No bandh, no food - that's the motto.
The AIADMK may have prevented a bandh by going to the Supreme Court, but Karunanidhi's Plan B was undoubtedly poetry in motion. And Amma has to tread carefully, with the seasoned veteran already invoking Tamil pride.
At 84, the veteran scriptwriter continues to surprise us with new layers in the plot of power. Ever the artist, the Kalaignar.
Related posts
TALKING HEADS AND RAM SETHU
Hindu Muslim Sikh Isai
Aapas main hai bhai bhai
A paean to secularism recited in Hindi at a joint meeting of the ruling alliance in Tamil Nadu on Sunday evening. And who trots out these lines flawlessly in a thick Tamil accent, without consulting a piece of paper. None other than Muthuvel Karunanidhi, the head of the DMK, whose party came to power for the first time way back in 1967 on an anti-Hindi platform.
Listening to the Kalaignar's ode to secularism in the very language he has openly despised, presented mixed emotions - of mirth as well as admiration. The man has tirelessly stuck to 'Tamizh Tai' as his medium of expression, and has rarely spoken in English in public, forget Hindi. (The only time I've heard a near-English soundbyte of his was when he read out some report on the Cauvery issue in English)
Karunanidhi is in no mood to give way on the Sethusamudram project, a long-cherished dream of Dravidian ideology. And at the same time wants to show off that he's part of a secular India and not just a regional politician. A shrewd publicity gimmick stimulating his cadres and creating a talking point for the Tamil public. And an indication to the BJP that two can play the game of whipping up sentiments.
The perfect launch pad for the hunger strike DMK leaders plan on Monday, after the Supreme Court's special sitting on a Sunday restrained them from organising a bandh. No bandh, no food - that's the motto.
The AIADMK may have prevented a bandh by going to the Supreme Court, but Karunanidhi's Plan B was undoubtedly poetry in motion. And Amma has to tread carefully, with the seasoned veteran already invoking Tamil pride.
At 84, the veteran scriptwriter continues to surprise us with new layers in the plot of power. Ever the artist, the Kalaignar.
Related posts
TALKING HEADS AND RAM SETHU
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