Kalia, the True Bhakt

I feel like Kalia, who elected Gabbar in a democratic process believing him to be a ruthless demagogue. & till communities after communities fell under the hooves of his mighty horses and all conquering roar, I felt proud. Here was a leader, a man of tribe, who was feared by one & all. Here was a man of action who could cut hands of justice if it was necessary for a greater cause towards keeping his clan the most supreme.

& I, Kalia, the fiercely loyal, blindly devoted follower knew that I will always be safe, that I will always be fighting for a cause greater than a few worthless lives. What Gabbar says is the law, the law of the jungle, the law for the powerful, not a law that talks of justice & equality, not a law that aims to protect the meek & the weak.

It's a war out there and if Gabbar does not act, the weak & meek villagers of Ramgarh & adjoining areas in connivance of the law & order machinery will wipe us out. & in a war as holy as this, one needs to make a few sacrifices even if it is one of ours.

Who cares for law & order anyways, courts of law are the ways of cultures who cannot act. For us, Gabbar is the Judge, Jury & Executioner - & it is a fair system – six rounds of a bullet, 3 for life, 3 for death – fair & simple - & effective!

This is how it works, say I am sent for a task & come back defeated – now this is a serious offence – a sign of weakness, a loss of aggression, a threat to reputation. Does not matter if law & justice together conspire to beat me up? Can Gabbar forgive this? Should he? Absolutely Not! But he would be fair in his justice still, that’s why we idolise him for even if he’s the one who wields the guns. This is how the conversation will flow,

Gabbar: (pointing the gun at Kalia) Are you for the development of the tribe?

Kalia: (shivering) Yes My Baap, I have gone on so many missions with you

(Gabbar clicks the butt, but it’s an empty round – Kalia’s stance for development saves him)

Gabbar: (pointing the gun again) Are you a true believer in faith?

Kalia: (proudly displaying the black tilak on his forehead) I’m and I’ll kill for it Sardar

(Another click, but empty again because of Kalia’s belief in his religion)

Gabbar: (3^rd time pointing the gun) Are you a nationalist?

Kalia: (looks at his black brown uniform pants) I’m the greatest one that ever was

(Another click, empty again, Nationalism saves the day for Kalia)

Kalia: (relieved) Sardar, if there were bullets…..

Gabbar fires again & again & again: Questions Gabbar, you’re anti-Gabbar

Sambha sitting atop watching, gives a cry: Ghar Ghar Gabbar!!!

The tribe repeats in chorus: sabse babbar, apna Gabbar!!!

----End of Kalia---

The Lego & the Nation

It all starts in a pretty way – your Son demanding to have the Lego set & an indulging parent that you are, you complying with it. Pretty, simple! What’s the risk? It’s expensive, but when the credit card is there, the interest & the premium will pain you later. It is creative nonetheless & in the ways of amateurs, visionary too.

The promise of your Son, doing magic with the Lego is intoxicating, your dreams, far surpassing the child’s imagination. The child has already showed you the Lego Transform-ers and you believe in him. The Lego, your Son, the Transform-ers – Time meets Einstein meet Universe.

All so grand, all so good, all so euphoric, all so cute. Just that your child is called Modi…The Lego is unboxed in no time amidst the claps of the proud you & the child sets to work. You expect nothing less than Ram Setu really? The red pieces for economy, the greens for polity, the yellows, your favorite for sense & the blues for the society. The creator & the pieces get to work diligently. Night & day, day & night, the boy is at it and you can never get over the joy of his sheer dedication, his single-point calling in life. Destruction being the Papa of creation belief at heart, the child makes & breaks the brochure structures like Planning Commission in an arrogance of the one truly gifted. All too good, all so unique! Your boundless bundle of irrational exuberance! The red figurine toppled there, the orange figurine installed here, the GST blocks moving like Rubik’s cube that you have zero know-how of, the belief that the boys knows it all. The demonetization structure looks twisted, and your stretched out rationality is curbed because the Ram statue is grandiose. It’s your child after all, keep clapping on. & he has a partner in crime/play, the BFF all kids must have, the affable bully next door. The two of them together, the bulldozer & the architect, move the pieces with the zeal of a bull in a china shop and you, face painted in the tri-colour of nationalism, patriotism & religious fervor look-on, cheer-on.

Will the Journalist answer?

Dear News Media

& the wave stuck...a different person, a different setting but the same unrepentant demeanour, the same swagging arrogance.
When Rajdeep Sardesai was slapped, the echo reverberated till home and for long. Most rejoiced, few were aghast - & media paid a silent obituary to journalism.
I've grown up watching Rajdeep on NDTV, have loved him, respected him and pondered pleasingly on the Old Monk tweets. It was sad & it hurt badly. But why did the media remain a mute spectator? Some over zealous hooligans on rampage, and Times NOW celebrates the Rockstar! Where was the front page of newspaper that can zoom in possibly anywhere & everywhere? Why did 4th estate crumble like a house of cards?
That journalism had made way for 'news products', we knew, but to be so blind, so un-acknowledging to the events at Madison Square shows a complete surrender. Those involved in the incident were part of a blameless mob, but where were you, the respected news channels and publications of the country?
I represent perhaps the last generation that grew up to respect journalists, I represent a section who considered the 8:30 pm news on DD sacrosanct and boring, I represent a community that took the headline to be the truth and only the truth. You have no right to let us down. A respected member from your field is attacked and you do not even blink an eyelid. & here we are not even talking of Assam floods? If you can't stand up for your own, what is the guarantee you will ever stand up for the oppressed or even the celebrated common man?
We don't understand your compulsions to make money, we don't buy your point of becoming a Talking Tom to your masters. We want news, not tailored interviews, not advertorials, not a tool of propaganda.
Please free the journalists that you have archived in your galleries. Let them report and not be coining fancy terms. The nation needs you...