‘How many casualties?’ the editor would ask with a wooden face. ‘Just two, sir’, the reporter’s cryptic reply would amplify the disappointment of the entire newsdesk at the loss of a dicey front-page news on a dry day; ‘page 5, then … but keep me posted if the toll rises’; the doughty editor has not given up hope yet. The more the merrier for him. He has ‘deadlines’ to meet and nothing makes headlines as mass deaths do, provided they happen in time!
Browsing: COLUMNS
The sprawling banyan tree at the centre of the village; the raised mud platform around its base; imperial looking elderly men, replete with handle-bar moustaches, white attire and matching turbans; the leader of the pack easily identifiable, his pre-eminence exalted by his late arrival, a raised seat and fawning sidekicks carrying silver urns awaiting the tell-tale spit; the throng of tense by-standers; the crestfallen accused, often shirtless and, of course
We are all stumped and startled by the damning dis coveries.
So our courts, after a ‘fair trial’, have finally found out that Ajmal Kasab is guilty of mass murder and waging war against the Indian State and also that the roots of that terror were in Pak. We thought Kasab, who was caught in action on camera before being caught in person
Just recently, I reminded this writer that I exist and that I am important. He had taken me for granted for too long and been piling up his mental load on me so mercilessly that I thought it fit to give a missed call. It was a jolt that he would remember for the rest of his life, which of course depends on how healthy and happy I am. Just as well, though, for since then he has been trying to take care of me. Only trying, but that’s fine for a start because that shows my warning has gone home!
Conflict of interests has dogged politicians down the ages.
History and legend are rife with instances of kings, warriors, kshatriyas and sundry members of the political class scratching their heads at the crossroads of public good and private priorities; many have been celebrated and many demonised too, depending upon the path they pursued as also the perspective of posterity.
This was a scandal waiting to be unwrapped. That in IPL more sensational games were played off the field was obvious from the start. Transparency in deals, running to billions that were ultimately picked from the public’s pocket by exploiting a public fad, has always been elusive. It’s now official that BCCI insiders privy to critical info as well as rank outsiders who can’t tell a team captain from a cheer leader, all have their hands deep in the honey pot and little wonder media bees too are attracted no end.
In case you were hooked to the telly for the all important IPL or were feverishly following the fates of Shoaib-Sania, it is likely you would have missed a ‘minor’ incident. For that matter, you would not have paid attention even if you did see the ticker, for the Chennai team actually won that day and also things turned Advantage Sania, as Shoaib’s ex-wife settled with him, thanks to the unsolicited brokering by the media that was hell bent on consummating the marriage.
Godmen of all hues, from our own N’nanda to the Vatican Pope seem to have come under a curse all at once. The fall of a religious institution, even if for dubious deeds, is a sad event. For, when it goes down, it takes with it something more precious: Faith.
The politicos seem pious in comparison. The financial flooding of an otherwise parched Pennagaram or the currency garland that encircled and enriched a ‘note-worthy’ neta, Maya, to name a few current cases of excess, cannot hold a candle to the vulgar parade of cash and dash at the cricketing carnival that is under way now. Clearly, the Indian Premier League has given the Indian Political League a run for its money.