Feb is when winter ends and the oncoming onslaught of warm climes is heralded. This time around this shortest month seems to have packed in more than mere climatic changes.
Verdict season: Kasab and Co took a little less than twenty minutes to wipe out scores of kafirs on that fateful 26 Nov. But twenty seven months have elapsed since and Kasab is yet to join his partners awaiting him with a reserved seat in paradise.
So, finally the PM came out in the open, but did he come clean? And has he emerged clean? The much hyped media interaction was MSingh’s scripted soliloquy really with the otherwise ebullient editors strangely soft, probably by pre-arrangement. The PM could very well have read out a statement.
The World Cup offers a pretext to mix cricket and politics which are anyway rife round the calendar in this country. And, as is the flavour of the season, let’s also announce our own Dream Team India. Only that none of these players, who have Constitutional duties and protection, are actually playing for the nation
The term ‘ally’ has the ring of commitment to it. Hence the preference for ‘liasions’. ‘One night stand’ and ‘strange bed-fellows’ too are no longer metaphors but reflect reality, given the orgy of political promiscuity on parade.
Another R-Day. And another display of military might. The show, doubtless, is only on the streets of the Capital for in distant Kashmir or the Maoisit dens or obvious terror outposts, where it could be put to better use, Bharat’s showcased strength is a sorry zilch. But R-day is not just about such showpieces, polished for the occasion and then left to gather dust. The birth of the Republic on 26 Jan 1950 meant democracy had dawned.
A mass tragedy anywhere raises all the usual questions about safety standards and official negligence. A mass tragedy at a place of worship particularly raises even more damning questions – about God’s standards and His unofficial schemes. The common denominator, however, is that the ways of both the mortal authority and the higher Almighty are equally inscrutable.
The balloon took off from the time economies started moving from barter to paper money. When goods or visible services were the common tender, there was no question of a hidden value; the exchanges were purely based on need. A bagful of wheat could be swapped for a similar quantity of mud if there was a mutual need.
We don’t usher in, or step into, the new year. It dawns upon us, come Jan, come what may. Time, tide and troubles wait for none and are not certainly heralded by a mere flip of a new calendar. No profound realisation, this. But a reminder, all the same, of the utter irrelevance of us individuals in the cosmic scheme unless one is in sync with that higher power.
Let me introduce myself. I am your political representative, elected or self-appointed. Theoretically, you are my master, the king, and I, your humble servant. In reality, I am Lord, to you and of all I survey, while in power and always itching to grab it when not. In short, you are my alibi and all that I do is in your name but for my sake.
