NOT FICTION BUT ELECTION FOR NOW

I last voted many general elections back. Not that I was not interested but because my job took me to places and my constituency was somewhere else.

This time too its no different. Though I will be visiting my native that will not be during the polling days. Anyway that doesnt prevent me from writing about the elections in my blog.


Basic Fact on General Elections 2009 (15th LokSabha)

The total number of seats in the Loksabha are 543. (Prevously I think it was 545)
13,68,430 voting machine will be made available for the this elections in 2009. There will be 8,28,804 polling stations. Thats 20% up from last time (2004).

Now read this - there is a polling station with a single voter too. Thats in Junagadh constituency, Bhanej village, in Gujarat. The voter is the priest of a Shiva temple which is situated in the centre of Gir forest - Guru Shree Bharath Dasji Bapu. (maharaj , aap toh guiness book mein hona chahiye)

How many voters? Around 71 crores. Last time it was around it was 67 crores.

When are the elections ?

Phase I - 16 April

Phase II - 22, 23 April

Phase III - 30 April

Phase IV - 7 May

Phase V - 13 May

Results - Single phased on 16 May

Election motto

There are only two major themes emerging if we ignore the ever and omnipresent the general background music of "uplifting the poor", "security safety and stability ", etc.

The Congress has tried to sort of make it look like a winning combination with the Oscar winning "Jai Ho" score. The permanant fall back options of, education, jobs and health for all by 2012 (extendable to any future election), the names Mahthmaji, Indiraji, Rajivji etc make up the hot curry masala and at times we are left counting the Italian sphagetti.

BJP projects itself through its leader. Their slogan - Able leader, Decisive government. (I like the word decisive in that , which is very necessary for any "Jai ho" to happen. Does it sound ominous enough for the militants too? or will another Khandahar like thing expose their mindless use of the word 'decisive' ).

The Communists have moved a step ahead after centuries of drinking tea, smoking beedis and acting as intellectuals. They launched a web site for the party. So I hope that those inside the party looking after paper based publishing have not lost their jobs.

Hence the General election mood can be summed up like this :-

1) Try getting more seats on any plank or prank.

2) If you fail at step 1, try to clobber up a majority by rounding up some others who managed to win. Give a name to the living-in, like UPA, NDA,..........ADA, APA BDA, BPA etc for that matter.

The general public has come to terms with the elections as something that happens seasonally. It will blow over they are sure and at most they have to cast their either influenced or indifferent vote. The rest will be taken care of by politicians.

Lets Laugh It Off

Some of the parties that fought the elections in 1951 were like this:-

Tamil Nadu Toiler's Party (won 0.84% votes and 4 seats). (hey then what about the opposite group?). So here comes the Zamindar party (won 0.27% votes and 2 seats). There was another group who declared their despondency - The Punjab Depressed Class League (0.01% votes and no seats). There was also a group which was neither toiling nor depressed but simply prided over their place - Cochin Party (0.01%, no seats)

Foot Note

Elections; mixed with - booth capturing, dynastic allotment of seats, seat sharing, pre/post poll alliances (holy or unholy), split, merger, secular and pseudo-secular accusations, Hindu, Muslim, Sikh and Italian influences, corruption , horse trading , hung parliament, disrupted parlaiment etc- should not dissuade you from casting your vote, for thats the only we yet know of to ward off militant or extreme groups from stopping us eating our Vada Pavs in peace.

Excersice Your Franchise ! Jai Hind!

COUNT DRACULA AND ME

I was around 12 years of age and I almost pissed in my pyjamas.

I was reading Dracula - by Bram Stoker. The novel had already made deep inroads in to my psyche and kept prodding the fear psychosis. But I was gallant enough. That was before that particular night.

9.30 pm, after dinner. The window in my room opened towards the coconut palm grove. I was reading the novel in my bed when I was positively certain that two points of red light were looking at me from the darkened frame of the window. As on cue a dog howled from among the dark palm trees. My eyes were fixed on that dark square of the open window.

I kept the novel away. Extended my hands to the table, eyes still fixed on the open window, and took the readers digest lying on top.

' Was Dracula for Real ?', said the title on the page that I flipped open.

I was by then parlaysed with fear and sure to be Dracula's victim that night and as confirmed by the reader's digest omen too. The bedsheet under which I hid that night must have confused him probably.

On getting up,I checked - no dots on my neck signifying Dracula's fang attack. I was spared.

At the breakfast table that morning I must have been the happiest guy on earth.


AFTER I BECAME BRAVE

I dont know when, but sometime later , the ghosts dissappeared from my window. Probabaly the hormones did it. There were not any more ghosts in my life. Draculas interested me now but never stopped me from sleeping peacefully. Open windows carried only fresh air inside and not fear.

Thats when one day, we friends, decided to play the ghost story for our neighbouhood. One of us dressed fully in white (white cricketing gear, secretly smuggled out of our homes) used to be in the burial ground during the dark, exactly facing the road that ran adjoining the cemetry and led to the nearby housing society.

The ghost saga didnt run long as the whisperings about the ghost reached the local police station and we stopped our prank just in time.

It must've been a blood chilling sight. Ghost in white, smoke from the cremation ground in the back ground, a few dogs- in cahoots with us, howling here and there. Not a bad scene at all.

If I remember correctly, a man retraced his steps on seeing me, first hesitantly but frantically a little later. Another fell off his bycicle and ran for his life. But the prize goes to the one whose scooter went dead right in front as I appeared in white. He ran all the way home. He jumped the compound wall, blinded by fear, while the gate was fully open - so I heard.

Though I lost fear of the ghosts long back, Iam not too sure if they do or dont exist . They may perhaps- atleast for the believers. Thats what I learned from my later life.

THE EPITAPH WRITER

As simple as writing a name plate. But he generally does it on stony surfaces. Thats what he told me when I happened to visit him in his canvas shanty.

Victor the Epitaph writer was unkempt, fully stubbled, with a half torn shirt pocket that held a few beedis, spectacles with one of its legs broken and latched to the rest with a string, shrivelled skin, dried twig like legs ending in slippers that again were repaired and operated upon using strings, plasters, stitches etc. Just like many of them, run down old men, you would have found on the streets.

"I dont know if they are true, but I write them all the same. After all writing good things is good isnt it? and it pays too" - he said about the epitaphs he writes.

"How did you happen to be in this proffession"? (I kick start my interview since Iam covering the epitaph writer during the lunch break and I work for a bank and not for a magazine)

"My father was a grave digger. I left that to my cousin. I took up the more literary side of it" - he says, as he finishes engraving- ' John who was the best of 'em all - 1925- 2009' (Obviously on of the best, after all he lasted for quite a while- I thought about John)

Chip chip chip....A few chiselled stone pieces found their way inside my shoes, much to my irritation and stopped me from contemplating further on John's longevity.

"How much do you get paid"? I enquire
"Its like a telegram, lengthier the message, the more expensive it is". He replied.

"But on an average?" - I bring my banking skills in to it.

"Around Rs.500/-" he said. (Not bad.....not bad at all....for chipping away on a stone) (and again for the oversees reader, Rs. 500/- is around 10 US $ )

"See its all about their attachment to the deceased and ofcourse the depth of their pockets. The latter atleast is in sufficient measure in this area" - he clarifies as if in answer to my thoughts.

"How many epitaphs do you do per day". Me again.

"3-4 per week not more. What with many discontinuing the practice , or getting it done from some other engraver cheaply. I Should be starting that ' ek pe ek free' I guess" (again for my countless overseas followers 'ek pe ek free' means 'one free on buying one'- a special scheme going on in India now a days on almost every imaginable item) He rues the recession the epitaph business has come in to.

"The expenses are mounting on one side...." he continued.

"That reminds me , what do your children do?"

"Got a son. He married a Goan and is running a joint there on the beach.

No epitaph, shipitaph...for him.....and he left home long back".

"Others in the family..wife....?"

"She lies there...".He points his finger. "Again no epitaphs for her either....I couldnt bring myself to write something. Iam near her always atleast". He had stopped chiseling and looked forlornly at a corner of the cemetry.

"The mounting expenses that you were mentioning...?" I asked , not quite getting it.

"What other vices for an old man , other than liquor" - he laughs at me, through the two missing incisors.

I should have guessed so much from his red, bulgy veined, eyes.

"As a writer I make lots of cock and bull stories about nothing" - I explained, "Do you feel the same applies to the epitaphs"?- I point to 'John who was the best of 'em all'.

"With the exception of a very few, mostly all are a facade I guess, atleast it would seem so from the way people vanish forever from the grave after the epitaphs and the final prayers are over. They too are busy people afterall". His face sort of oozed the futility, false hood and repetitiveness of life.

"Which was the funniest of 'em all - of all the epitaphs I mean"?

"Cant say which is the best but there is a good one out there"

He takes me to far side of the grave yard , a few meters away from the creek. There it was engraved "Jacob who did nothing good till he died- 1935-2003"

In danger of over shooting my lunch break I say a quick good bye , handing him a full pack of cigarettes, and whilst he grins I shuffle off to my work. I made him promise to call me if he comes across even funnier one liners.

I move on to other subject for my blog - a frog which croaks outside my window, the mad lady with the crocodile teeth, the three men who dissappeared while they went for a stroll (mystery blog) and like wise...

I dropped down to visit him on my way to the block buster film - "Pyar kiya toh karna kya" (English men may read this as "what to do when you are in love") . By the way there are lots of good hindi films being made now a days. A real learning experience for you all.

Victor was not there. A young fellow was chiselling away. I enquired about victor. He kept silent and took me to that far end near the creek and pointed at a grave stone.

"Buried under the weight of my profession, Victor 1940- 2009".

OWNER DEAD - SLIPPER LEFT

Vijay Mallya lrobably did the right thing (I dont know if its due to love for the country or love for publicity) by bidding successfully for the Gandhian relics.

I would've done the same. But I never had the money. Thats not the point but.

Its about Gandhi v/s Mallya.

Gandhiji - is our father of the nation. (For readers from outside India - Gandhiji is somewhat like what George Washington is for the USA plus Gandhiji was a strong advocate of non-violence and espoused simplicity by moving about in a loin cloth). The title of "Mahathma"- meaning "a great soul" truly summarises him.

Now have a look at these disparities (Iam not suggesting anything but do have a look at them) :-

1. Gandhi fought against alcoholism. Vijay Mallya's job is to sell alcohol. (By the way Gandhi's home state Gujarat is a dry state officially and hence is blessed with a very thriving illegal liquor business like any other dry state in India. Everyone drinks unofficially. Officially all are tetotallers. Drunken driving there can potentially convert itself into a triple charge along with consuming liquor and peddling it too.
2. Gandhi was a simpleton (psst...loin cloth...loin cloth) . Vijay Mallya is in to Horse racing, IPL (cricket) , Formula 1 racing etc. Infact anything to do with public display of wealth, glitz and glamour. In all probability he might be wearing a designer "Jockey" (thats, a highly sought after brand of under wear in India , which can make a any lady swoon , anytime any place - guaranteed) in place of a loin cloth.
3. Gandhi fasted often - Mallya's each meal would probably follow a multi cuisine style with a lot to spare for the trash can.
4. Gandhi lived for a public cause. Mallya has more to do with publicity than anything with any of the public causes. Personal goals and gains are stashed away carefully with the public getting the facade probably.
5. Gandhi was the epitome of non-violence. Mallya spent millions for Tipu Sultan's sword.
6. Gandhi travelled third class in train and walked along side cars whose owners pleaded with him to accompany them. Mallya owns a high on frills airline.

The list can go on and on...........

But yet Mallya may have done the right thing. He successfully bid for the Mahathma's slippers and all because he was deeply emotional about the Mahathma, about India (so he says). Also long-after-independence-India is much different from the principled struggling-to-get- independent-India. Is'nt it? Any how its not fair to compare two different eras. Right?

Mallya may also have felt like giving an extra kick to the teeming millions who drank his brew and who thus helped him buy such expensive slippers.

What else are we all suggesting that Mallya should've done instead of bringing the slippers home?

May be first denounce liquor. Close down his empire. Ground the airline. Tie a loin cloth, may be. One will not do though, since he is portly. May be stitch the two of 'em togather and then forget about Gandhiji's slippers since Mallya himself would 've been on the path to be a Mahathma.

Hence I really cannot dispute what Mallya did. Especially since Iam overcritical (as always Iam) because I dont own an empire and hence can never be in a critcisable position of a bidder for the father of the nation's slippers.

But had the Mahathma anticipated the shape of things to come, he would surely have done away with his slippers, spectacles and the bowl long back so that they dont grow expensive from his humble name.

["What about the loin cloth then? "
"What about it?"
"Would'nt they have snatched his loin cloth and auctioned it off too ?"]

For he had scruples in his head and slippers on his feet.

For us though slippers have got into our heads, with scruples not in the neighbouring country even.

SLIP B'TWEEN THE PEN AND THE PERCEPTION

First things first- I write but in a very small way.

But since I write I too am prone to my own small time pitfalls.

All writers write based on some real experiences I guess.

I do.

But while those real experiences are true they are far removed from what is written later.

Like for example :

"I scaled the walls of the ladies hostel..........was temporarily rusticated........." I wrote once somewhere to depict my non- existent student day exploits .

"That was really- really bad of you". A friend said and passed me a despicable glance.

Another who sounded like having a grudge with me said, " Really you are that kind of a person- I can understand". She spat. The flames from her mouth danced - like those of the chinese dragon.

My folly was I wrote the small write up in the first person. The incident that inspired me to make such a statement went somewhat like this:

(I and my friend were returning from town after a film. As we entered the campus there were loud bursts of crackers- the elections were won by some students group. Someone later told me that some fully drunk students (from the intense celebrations) tried climbing the walls of the ladies hostel. No one was either temporarily or permamnently rusticated)

Now look at what happened to my charactar when I wrote that in the first person after spicing it up a bit.

Any how I never retorted at my friends comments. (and how are they to know if what Iam writing is true or not) I sort of inwardly laughed at the way I effectively hoodwinked people with my writing and ofcourse all the while I was getting the balls of my charactar squashed too.

At times people read more into your writing than what you have actually meant. Once someone wrote " ....the ant tavelled from my left hand to my right........." or something like that depicting the movement of an ant on his body. (I tell you he should've ignored the ant)

One great proof reader suggested to the editor of the magazine - " its vulgar Iam sure...". (You know what ?- the proof reader surely must have been into lots of cheap porn)

The writer denied all such allegations. But finally he agreed to editing the line out than being seen as a molestor that too by the ant method.

So never write in the first person ? Many do.

Some others give names to the characters but really make them sound like the author himself. Giving a personal touch certainly brings the characters alive. So a bit of flesh and blood is a must I guess.

The mysterious grey area between the truth and fiction can be luciously exploitable. (its akin to a women coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel rather than fully nude, the former makes you salivate where as the latter can hit you like halley's comet)

Ofcourse the original "First person-Ball squashky" problem of your character still exists. I've not forgotten that.

So how to write -First person, Second person or as a Bystander?

Dont ask me. Honestly, I dont know.

As far as Iam concerned, blogs are basically 'I write - U read the crap"

So clear now? - Ur screwed the moment u stepped on to this blog.

Gud night.

OSCAR BEST PICTURES - a SLUM DOG INSPIRATION

Hey there,

Those who want to have a collection of DVDs , purely of the Oscar best picture pedigree, here is a list (not comprehensive though) of some of them.

Some of which I have seen , some others which I cannot vouch for.

Some are best seen in theatres.Some, so damn good that DVDs dont come in the way.

Never watch them in the order of production i.e year-wise as they came up for the awards. No, mix-em-up so that you travel back and forth in history.

1939 Gone with the wind
1959 Benhur
1965 Sound of Music
1970 Patton

1972 Godfather
1974 Godfather II

1975 One flew over the cuckoo's nest
1982 Gandhi
1985 Out of Africa

1987 Last emperor
1988 Rainman
1989 Driving miss daisy
1991 Silence of the lambs
1992 Unforgiven
1993 Schindler's list

1994 Forest gump

1995 Brave heart

1996 English patient

1997 Titanic

1998 Shakespeare in love

1999 American beauty

2000 Gladiator

2001 Beautiful mind

2002 Chicago

2003 Return of the king

2004 Million dollar baby

2005 Crash

2006 Departed

2007 No country for old men

2008 Slum dog millionaire

LOOSE - PANTS & LAPTOP - BABA

I use it to travel to my office every day. Still I have written nothing about it till date. Iam talking about the Mumbai local trains.

Since "Slum Dog milionaire" succeded so well talking about Mumbai and Poverty, let me try and emulate; talking about 'Mumbai Locals'.

"Slum dogs on locals " - hey that sounds better. The Danny Boyles of the world, better listen....pssst ....read what this man writes. A real creative genius at work.

Ok , back to the business of writing.

Whats so great about a suburban train system? Though I had heard stories about the Mumbai Local trains before coming to Mumbai, my experience in them sort of clarified the picture and blew away some myths too.

Though the trains run through the city and is owned by the Indian Railways, there are a different set of rules that sort of govern the lives travelling inside. Rules by convention, unwritten , but accepted without a murmur. The rules that create the scenes being played out inside the compartments. Rules that are different from the Bombay Municipal Corporation ones and beyond the IPC (Indian Penal Code)

From here on we go scene by scene. Like shakespeare.

Tararamparara.............(the curtain rises...)

Scene 1. Second class compartment of 8.08 am local to Church gate. Three people seated on a three seater. Whats so great about it? Nothing.

The fourth fellow jumps in, slightly ahead of the population explosion that is about to happen at the door, as the train enters the platform. He gestures to the three already seated to push against each other so that he has his rightful place of placing a single ass at the fourth place. After much shoving, pushing , feigned ass movements, skirmishes etc an equilibrium is reached, where- in the fourth fellow is on constant brownian movements while holding on to his precious one assed position.

By the way in the first class , the same scene should be enacted sans the fourth fellow who is banned there. Only three here in a three seater. But the first fellow is in trouble there. How?

This is how. The seats are cushioned here. But by their constant use the edges are higher (by less usage) as compared to other places. So the window seated fellow gets a feeling akin to sitting on the kerb with one ass 5 inches higher on the road and the other ass (-)5 inches on the ground.

Hey why did you pay higher and get into the I class yaar? To get your already split ass all the more split?

One more thing which reflects the broad mindedness of us Indians here.

Eventhough there are only three on a three seater in the first class, still the first two fellows try their level best in a concerted manner so that the last guy is always on tenter hooks and is made to appreciate their benevolence in keeping him seated fully rather than half assed.

Scene 2. The Seat Mafia ?

Like any place else in India - mob is strength.

As the 8.08 local arrives , 7 people block 25 others from entering. 5 from the defense related group of 7 , raid the vacant seats. After the capture, 'the five' guard the territory till the other 7 arrive. 7+5= 12 enjoy their ride every day. 25+ another 50 fuckers remain so through out their life. The Genghiz Khan like mobs urinate to demarcate their territory and the others sniff and leave with their tail between their legs.

Scene 3. Camaraderie.

After capturing their respective territories - these mobs carry on with their love for each other , and private celebrations. Hah..! how true that its said that the guys who travel togather on the trains are great fellow beings.

That the comrades on the mumbai locals are very thick friends is what the legendary stories are all about.

Once one of them slips through and comes under wheels of the train.

The others carry on as nothing has ever happened. Camaraderie, my foot.

But thats my mistake.

Actually here I should not be talking about camaraderie but of another great charactaristic of the mumbai populace- resilience. THE RESILIENT MUMBAI . Exactly as the newspapers screamed right after the 2006 train bombings, as also after the terrorists walked in and ..and....fu.... everyone around in 2008.

Unperturbed they carry on and on after each catastrophe. Thats not being insensitive, but......

yeah , TRULY RESILIENT.....

Scene 4 : The video Coach

"Which compartment are you in daily? I have never met you ". My friend enquired.

"First class at the front" I reply .

" Iam usually in the video coach" he says.

"Video Coach ? Where's that?" Iam confused.

"Come I shall show you today" he says with a sly smile.

We jump into the rear end first class cabin, adjoining the ladies first class.

"There- thats your video and playing too", my friend said gesturing towards the ladies cabin transparently visible through the open spaces between the two cabins.

"Nice name I said", half thrilled half shy and finally sitting on the seat looking away from the video. My guilt overcame my thrill perhaps. It may take me a while longer to get used to the convention.

The convention - the seats facing the video gets filled first. Mind you, I have observed, the same is the case in 'the video' too. Thats when I realised that 'they' are our video and 'we' are their video. Not only our's but their's too is a video coach. While the males are more or less glued to their 'video', females appear preoccupied though their stiffness and mannerisms probably suggest being hooked to the video.

So that much for the video coach.

Epilogue - Loose Pants and Laptop Baba

I belonged to their group once. For a short while. Seat capturing, camaraderie and all.

Laptop baba worked away on his laptop, once he was seated.

Loose pants never had a tight or correct fitting pants. Loose pants retired from service a shortwhile later and left for Nagpur, his native, ofcourse after the customary exchange of all promises to keep in touch. He disappeared from our world.

Laptop Baba was probabaly undone by his laptop. He may have tried working on his laptop while driving. He shifted to another world.

I left the group after that. Others are still carrying on - Resilience.

I retired to another corner of the local train, switched off the video, and covered myself over with newspapers, magazines and books.