“The rail hike is against Trinamool’s DNA”. —Derek O’Brien, Trinamool MP

Over the past few years, in a series of blog posts, I have put the three-leaf-clover of the Trinamool under my electron microscope, trying to decode its DNA. My conclusion, not that it is particularly novel, was that “What people were calling the eclipsing of Communism in Bengal with Buddhadev’s defeat was actually its revival. Because Trinamool’s DNA is an exact clone of what used to be the CPM’s DNA under Jyoti Basu.”  ”Under Jyoti Basu” is a significant modifier because there had been a slight jiggling of the CPM DNA during the rule of Buddhadev Bhattacharya, where based on some genetic perturbations, the new leader had come to embrace concepts hethetro considered anathema to the Communists, like the aggressive wooing of industrial investment. It was not however an X-Men type radical mutation, (which was what was needed) because when push came to shove (with Didi providing both the push as well as the shove), Buddhadev was found to be unwilling, or unable to, chemo out the cancer of  ”party”-sponsored violence and intimidation.

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Uttar Pradesh has historically exerted great influence (some may say undue) over national politics, having been the home of some of our most influential politicians. Which makes its politics fascinating, if not for anything else than for its impact on the Delhi throne. For the last ten years, UP politics can be looked upon, very simplistically, as a punch-counter-punch battle between two large voting blocs—-the OBC(Yadav)-Muslim combine represented by Mulayam “Netaji” Yadav and the Dalits represented by Maya “Behenji” Wati with each side trying to muscle on each other’s turf while trying to tip the scales by poaching the Bramhin and higher castes from the BJP. Kind of like Montagues vs Capulets, but with criminals, rifles, wrestlers, elephants, statues, mandir and India’s only royal family added for good measure.

For me of course what has been the most fascinating is how the Congress and the BJP have been, once again, relegated to third and fourth position-scrappers in what has historically been their “headquarters state” and how this marginalization reflects generally on the moribund state of our biggest national players.

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I get Kapil Sibal.

I really do.

When he says that he is not against political dissent per se but merely acting, in the benefit of the nation, to wipe out online speech that promotes communal disharmony and religious unrest, I totally understand where he is coming from.

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It has been an eventful few weeks for the anti-corruption juggernaut in India. One of its mastheads was dealt some fauladi mukkas, another had a shoe thrown at him and yet another found some pesky travel receipts turning up in the wrong place. Now if only half this drama had taken place in Big Boss’s house, life would have been bearable.

It was inevitable that  in an effort to “Kill the Bill” the powers-that-be would come after each of the agent provocateurs with pliers and blowtorch (ala “Pulp Fiction”) and that in their ranks, would be unearthed a plant like Mr. Orange of “Reservoir Dogs” (Swami Agnivesh). The strategy over the past few months, has been simple: dig till something turns up. And since  none of us have lead blemishless lives, one could, given the resources available to the authorities and to the sympathetic sections of the press, always uncover something that would be embarrassing—if not spurious air-travel bills, then definitely songs on your hard-drive that you do not have receipts for.

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If there is anyone in today’s India that would receive more scorn than the pedophile and the baby-murderer, it is he who does not provide the fullest support to Anna Hazare and his Jan Lok Pal campaign. So much as express a smidgen of doubt about the “Second Independence Struggle” and be prepared to be digitally and socially mauled, unfriended, unfollowed, drawn, quartered and subject to death by a thousand cuts. “Congress agent” “Traitor” “Jealous of Anna Hazare’s success” “I cannot believe you are the same person I once respected” and “What have you done for the country? I am bunking work and sending SMS and have you done that?” are just some of the more polite responses you should expect to encounter should you not be a member of “100000 Indians in support of Anna Hazare”. This invective is ironic considering that Team Anna and its supporters, being so zealously possessive of their rights of dissent (and rightfully too),  would be expected to give others the right to disagree without making them run the gauntlet.

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A few days ago, I read in the news that a lady had been apprehended at the airport for trying to bring in an item considered so detrimental to the health of our nation that it has been banned by the sagacious Government of India.

What was it, you ask? RDX? Drugs? Counterfeit money?

No. No. Those we are fine with.

So then what dangerous item was it that set off the security alarms ?

Sex toys.

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The tragedy of terrorist attacks in India is that you can take a blog-post from three years ago, make a small change here and one change there, and it would seem like I just wrote it. Fresh and hot. That’s the thing. Nothing changes. Not a bit. The same bomb blasts, the same canned responses, the same floundering in the dark, the same impotent social media rage, the same sense of headless chicken-ness.

I saw one person splutter angrily on TV ” There was no police here before the blast. No security.”

Security? Hmm.

Well in February I went to Gateway of India. Post 26/11 and to borrow a Shastrism “after the horse has bolted”,  there was security there. A lot of it. Limited access. People in wardi. Metal detector. Only bug in the program—–people could walk around the metal-detector, without standing underneath it, and no one around seemed to be mildly concerned at this small fly in the security ointment.

Security? Hmm.

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Cast of Characters for the Farce That Is Currently Going On:

1. Baba Ramdev:  Babas are great. Baba Sehgal. Baba Zarda. And of course billionaire monk, one man brand, the ever reticent Baba Ramdev. How can one not consider with utmost seriousness a sage who can cure homosexuality, flatulence, cancer and AIDS, through the simple device of strategically rhythmic inhaling and exhaling? How can one not be in awe of his mature Alice in Wonderland Red Queen’s “Off with their heads” solution to the country’s endemic problems (He advocates death penalty to the corrupt)? How can one not be blown away by the sagacity of his solutions—like how he advocates doing away with Income Tax  and replacing it with a mere 1-2% transaction tax (yes that’s what he says—take that Tea Party, take that Fair Tax and take that Michele Bachman )? How can one not admire how he has used his Yoga platform to leapfrog onto the political stage? How can one not appreciate his steadfast resolve to bring back all the black money, stowed in cash havens abroad. It’s a simple thing really, just make all the banks in Switzerland, Lichenstein and Monaco watch Aastha channel and they will hand over their lists while doing anulom and veelom. I mean the Americans and Germans can get the banks to bend to their will…why cannot India, an equally powerful nation in the firmament of nations.

What I love most about Baba is his simplicity. Simple saffron vastram. Simple chartered plane. Simple solutions. Breathe in. Kill the corrupt. Bring their wealth back. Abolish income tax. Gays are sick people.  Breathe out. Repeat five times. And then the other nostril.

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My article today in Wall Street Journal (WSJ.com) [Link]

I have been deliberating whether to write about the Jan LokPal Bill for some time. The reason why I have dallied somewhat is because I am more than a bit conflicted on this issue.

Here though is what I am sure about. The “revolution” we just saw, started right after the World Cup and completed right before the IPL, was not India’s Tahrir Square. Not that I am belittling the revolutionary temper of those who starved on Twitter or took an hour off from their busy schedules to show their patriotism or those who made more missed calls than a heavy-duty stalker or  those who flooded my Facebook inbox with invitations for “anti-corruption events” or those who turned up at the site of the struggle as if it was a Roadies roadshow or created “Picbadges” for their Facebook profiles or lit more protest candles than there are on A K Hangal’s birthday cake. When Bipasha Basu, Shahid Kapoor and Priyanka Chopra make moving 140 character oratory orgasms over Twitter,  far be it for humble me to even hint that this is not something like the “Rang De Basanti Be the Change” revolution of a few years ago. Even then, comparing this to the mass uprising in Libya and Egypt or making a connection between the Indian government, moribund as it is, with the regimes that are there, is a bit like comparing Sachin Tendulkar to, let’s see. Sujith Somasunder.

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