A Balanced Life


Can we have our cake and eat it too? No? Does that sound too greedy? But why not? Why can’t I have a great career? A good family life? Enough leisure time? Adequate “me” time? All of the above, instead of picking my choices from one of the above? Sounds bizarre to you? Yeah to me too. All I want is to have a balanced life, where I can work a little, play a little, sleep a little and just lie down there and daydream a little. But increasingly I find that I just can’t find the time to fit all of this into my daily schedule. No I am not trying to beat my own drums that I am very busy and can’t find the time. The truth is sometimes I just can’t remember where the time went when I reflect on it at the end of an average day. Some of it surely went sitting and waiting in traffic on my daily commute, up and down the city working at two jobs at either end of the metropolis. But travelling does give me the time to catch up on my old favorites on FM radio channels and I am usually in a chirpier mood after listening to for instance “mundhiri muthaella syenjukku” or whatever it was from the song “nenjinelle, nenjinelle” from the incomparable AR Rahman. Leaving that aside, travelling also gives me a great perspective to write the kind of short fiction I like to write. I look at people and try to imagine their everyday lives and then I use them as characters in one of my stories. Where else would I go for authentic personalities if I spend all day locked up in a cubicle listening to people explain in great detail what they think their disease is and what treatment should I do to them?

Nutritionist’s talk a lot of balanced diets. About how we need carbohydrates/proteins/fats in equal measure…but every single diet out there stresses one particular aspect in favor of the other- low-cal diet, no-fat diet and they all seem to work to some extent. What works for food ought to work for life too right? Do we need to live a balanced life or can we live a life where we are happy to accept that life is essentially unbalanced and you just can’t fit in all you want to do, the operating word here being “want”, in a span of 24 hours? What if you were to work all week and rest all Sunday? Like the good lord told us to do on Sabbath? Is that a balanced life? Or are you building up to having a coronary? What if I just pick and choose one aspect of my life? Say my career? And revolve all the rest of my life around it? Arrange to have a convivial family life with someone who respects my need to work hard at my career even at the expense of forgoing any leisure time or activity? Can it be done?  I definitely hope so. When we get to the core of it the only persons who can choose to have a balanced life, do all that their hearts desire- rest, relax, spend time with family, work within limits- are those who were born with a golden spoon or those who have already attained a certain level of affluence where money becomes superfluous. All the rest of us poor mortals have to slog our butts off to make a decent living and stay off the poverty line. We can ready in lifestyle magazines about the heady experience of living a balanced life and then get on with trying to balance all our different priorities into the same time frame. Live one day at a time within our means and not be greedy to have it all. In the end its better to be practical rather than be idealistic. And keep alive hope that someday…..

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The Gloating At Others Discomfiture- New India


The Gloating At Others Discomfiture- New India

Last week there were two significant judgments delivered by the supreme court of India. The first was on the constitutional validity of the right to privacy where the judgment affirmed that right to privacy is a fundamental right. And in the very same week the judges pronounced that personal laws are no longer valid by striking down the triple talaq law under Muslim personal law. Now the two may not seem related at first glance but lets dig a little deeper to see what this means at ground level. In fact to digress a bit there are those who are celebrating both the judgments without realizing that they are both contradictory. The first one is an instance of executive over reach being corrected by judicial over sight and the second one is an example of judicial overreach (with the full connivance of a double-speaking executive) which has used the judiciary as a stalking horse to achieve a backhanded assault on personal laws and right to privacy.

Now disregarding the feminazis who will celebrate anything which makes life harder for men (like easier divorces) and disregarding the usual Muslim baiter’s who will celebrate anything which will annoy or inconvenience the average Muslim citizen of India, the real reason people should be afraid of this judicial over reach is that based on this judgment any and every personal or religious belief/freedom/personal law is open to censure by the courts and government. I was so forcefully reminded of this by the Jallikattu movement a few months back when a few offended animal rights activists invaded the personal law space of Tamil pride and got jallikattu banned through the supreme court. Now jallikattu might be a regressive practice in the eyes of a few volunteers working with animals but does it give them the right to impose their will on a million others under the garb of the court’s orders? Invading personal laws of various religions is pretty similar when you come to think of it- tomorrow any person can state that they are offended by this or that particular practice – say tying a mangalsutra on a woman’s neck (just for an example) as a regressive practice under Hindu personal law and have the supreme court ban it. Will it end there? There will be more and more invasion into the personal laws of people based on the whims and fancies of whoever rules us or based on lobbyists influence with the powers that be.

I remember reading somewhere that Sardar Vallabhai Patel warned Nehru against meddling with Hindu personal laws as opening up a can of worms and it’s taken us all these years to find out that the Sardar was bang-on right and Nehru was wrong, as usual. That single instance of unwanted meddling with hindu personal practices was the catalyst which fanned the flames of hindutva renaissance all through these years and has atlast brought the current party to power capitalizing on the hindu community’s feeling of being selectively targeted by politicians which might or might not be true  but you cant play with people’s emotions with intellectual arguments based on the view from the lofty heights of Lutyen’s Delhi or western mores.

If only Nehru had listened to the Sardar’s words and just declared all personal laws as invalid from (or sacrosanct as the case may be) instead of selectively targeting Hindu personal laws for reform we would not have seen such communal polarizations and religious riots today in our country. The root cause of all this evil lies solely there in the mists of forgotten history when our first prime minister tried to reform Hindus from without instead of waiting for them to reform from within. This left, in my opinion, a feeling of being sinned against in the Hindus who instead of blaming the politicians (the Congress collection of St.Stephens crowd) who had tried to pit one community against another for their own narrow political needs instead took to venting their ire on fellow sufferers like Muslims and Christians under the erroneous belief that they enjoyed more religious freedoms that the Hindu’s were denied using the law as a tool to bludgeon the Hindu community.

And the politicians succeed in driving a wedge between hitherto peaceful communities for political gains and the same successful formula has been used ever since by every mainstream political party to reap electoral rewards while us citizens of India despite our religions and differences end up being made fools of. Fools enough to not protest against executive or judicial over reach even into the sanctity of our personal relationships leave alone personal laws. And future generations will probably say the same thing about us that we accuse them of- that we were mute spectators and applauded inwardly (envy/hate – are two sides of the same coin), the judicial invasion of another communities personal laws. Now nothing is personal anymore in our new India. And we are all in danger of being legislated or judged out of our beliefs and ways of existence which has stood the sanctity of time.

 

The Anti-Bro


The Anti-Bro

The very famous Tamil actor and equally famous Tamil politician Captain Visaiyakanth is credited with speaking one of Tamil filmdom’s most iconic dialogues ever (in a movie called ramanna) which goes something like this “the only word I don’t like in tamil is sorry”. Sorry, what? Anyways Copy/Paste to 2017 and I would have to borrow from him and say (hand on my heart) that MY most hated phrase in English (in recent times) is “bro”. (disclaimer: my hated words keep changing with time- previously they used to be exams/marks/ its morning get up your ass, don’t you have to go to work/ but I don’t think of you that way, ours is a platonic friendship….etc…etc).

I don’t know why but every other pseudo hearty guy I meet nowadays greets me with a very hearty and instantaneous “bro” in a loud pitched voice. And truth to say, that grates on my system, makes me nervous and look back over my shoulder to see if anyone’s creeping up behind me to mug me while I am distracted by the false heartiness of my suddenly found “bro”. Bad enough that the girls used to call me bro/brother/bhai/bhayya as soon as they espy me anywhere within 500meters of them (early warning sign, I guess) but in my worst case scenario now even guys are calling me “bro”. Bro this, Bro that, bro everything.

Just last year it was Dude (pronounced dood) in a very fake American drawl which stank to Yankee Doodle Dandy. And the year before that, it was “mate” like every other guy halloo’ing at me was a stinking Australian crocodile Dundee. I get it, I get it, I get that sometimes guys have to use informal but respectful forms of address to each other but what’s wrong with good old “meester”? Or “sir?” or even “your worshipful excellency?” if it isn’t quite a mouthful to pronounce.

Digging back in time paleontologically, I can try and trace all this “bro’ing” to a very execrable television sitcom called “how I met your mother (who was passed between me and my best friend like a piece o’candy)”. The characters in that sitcom (who I might add in real life are gay, not that I am homo-phobic or anything for I even had a rainbow coloured facebook dp once for a few hours before I learnt what it really meant and changed back pronto) called each other “bro’s” and that’s where the famous “bro’s before hoe’s” phrase first came up I guess, the line which encapsulated the modern millennial man’s motto perfectly- “ first screw up your bro/friends life before you go home to screw your girlfriend’s”.

In our native culture we have certain perfectly acceptable form of greetings called “machi”, “machan”, “dei porambokku” “ngotha deiii veena ponavaney” etc. and having such a diverse form of addresses to suit every occasion (and person we meet) I fail to understand what prompts the youth of today (mee too youthu only bba, ok?) to call each other’s as “yo nigga” “damn homie” or “bro”. That stuff doesn’t express the varied emotions like a heartfelt “deii paradesi naaaye” when meeting a friend after an absence (or even daily).

So to make a long story short (as I am running out of words), let me repeat my original premise – I am no one’s bro (least of all, of random girls I run into suddenly, caveat added- only good looking one’s mind you, for the ugly ones can bro me to their hearts content). Anyway, I digress from the topic. To come back to it, call me anything, but just don’t call me “bro”. Howazzat Buddy?

The Thin Line Of Hope


The Thin Line Of Hope

“Hope is a wonderful thing. It’s the thin line which often separates life from a life not worth living for. The absence of hope is the greatest tragedy of human life. Especially when humans lose hope just when their life is going to take a turn for the better and make some hasty decisions. Of course, humans can’t see the future as we do and that’s the beauty of hope. They have to believe in it, believe that life is going to turn on its head for them in the very near future. That a benevolent god is up there watching over them and he sends angels like us down to earth to walk with them in their most care-worn states. That belief and the hope it generates is what human life worth fighting for. Loss of that belief and consequent hope for the future results in such cases” he gestured to the prone figure on the bed battling for life “and just when her life was about to get better she has taken poison to kill herself. And now we just have to wait here for the grim reaper to come collect his toll”. “But” the cherub asked the senior angel “can’t we do something?” It was its first day on the job and it was still learning the ropes “can’t we, like, turn back time and show her a little hope? Give her hints that she just has to pass over this bump in her life to be happy again?”

“Ahh”, the senior angel shook his wise head negatively “that’s just what we are forbidden to do little one. Remember the fight over the first man Adam’s creation?” he winked as he didn’t want to mention the ungodly revolt even here on earth for god had eyes and ears everywhere “well, God in his everlasting benevolence granted Adam and his progeny the gift of free will. It’s up to the humans how they use it. To better themselves or to fall into temptations. And we are forbidden to interfere in their choices even if they make some such stupid decisions like taking their own lives”. He stood there wings folded staring pensively at the woman on the bed now whooping great gasps trying to suck in air as the poison started taking greater effect. “Now look at this girl, would you believe that six months ago she was a bright and cheerful girl always with a smile on her face? Then she lost her mother, her father a drunk, disappeared around the same time and she joined up as a domestic help in a wealthy household. And that’s where the seeds of her destruction were sowed. It took six months, but that family was the one which killed her today”.

“An entire family were responsible for her taking poison?” the newest cherub to join the angels asked aghast “how is that possible? Wasn’t there even a single person in that household with a little pity in their heart?” the senior angel looked oddly at him and then making a decision “No, that single family was the epitome of all human vices- there was lechery, greed, jealousy and hate but no redeeming features in them. All in all, I would say, they are a typical human family. I think it would be better if you saw for yourself so come with me” he said, “and I will show how she ended up like this today” and taking the little cherub with him the senior angel flew off to visit Seth Narotamdas Damodardas, the wealthy philanthropist and benefactor of many temples, ngo’s and cows.

They entered a massive villa built like a replica of the Jaipur palace and the first person they saw on flying in through a first floor bedroom window was a young man snoring away on a palatial bed in an alcohol induced haze. “This is Pankaj, the only son and heir of Sethji’s vast business empire of beedi and gutka” said the angel “and also the father of the unborn child in the dead girls womb. While pankaj got her pregnant with his tender profession of love, beguiling the innocent little fool fresh from the village, it was his father sethji who drove her out of the family mansion for daring to accuse his son of being the father of her child. Sethji was angry beyond words because he knew any word of this leaking out would damage the marriage prospects of his son to some other rich business family.

And how do you guess the whole affair came to light? It was jealousy which did it. The Seth’s daughter Neerja hated the servant girl from the first, hated that even in her rags and grime she looked far lovelier than the bejeweled Neerja. She especially hated her because her fiancée, Paresh had once spent an entire dinner staring at the servant maid as she served at the table. Though plain and ugly Neerja has a haughty heart, a heart which cannot countenance playing second fiddle to anyone and she bore spite from that moment on towards the maid. And when she found out the idle dalliance between her wastrel brother and the maid she couldn’t wait to run in and inform her father and mother. Sethji was a tad less guilty in that he only dismissed the maid and sent her out to starve in the streets, it was his wife madamji -Manju madam, who not only hid her gold ornaments but made sure that the seth file a police complaint against the poor girl and had her arrested and sent to jail for her temerity in beguiling her innocent son. She was also responsible for spreading the word around in all the voluntary organizations and women’s rights organizations she served in, that anyone having the intention to help this particular girl would earn the undying wrath of the seth’s whole family.

The poor girl was driven to begging on the streets to satisfy the hunger pangs of her unborn child in the womb. She couldn’t eat enough to feed herself let alone the child gnawing in her belly even though she spent all day on her feet begging for work, some work which would allow her to live with dignity or at least feed her babe. But society, human society is a cruel, cruel thing, humans have no pity on those who are down on their luck, they avoid them like the plague to make sure that their ill-luck doesn’t rub off on others. If only they knew that nothing is ever so simple” the senior angel sighed “just this afternoon this girl fell down on the street dashed by a passing motorcar and when she reached her tenement she found her petticoats running with rivulets of blood and she felt she had lost her child, the only thing which had made her current life worth bearing and unable to face such a bleak future she took the easy way out, the only way she knew to end her misery in one stroke by swallowing a packet of poison”.

The cherub was aghast “senior angel ji you speak as if sympathizing with the action of this human. Hasn’t god expressly forbidden taking self-life by humans? Isn’t it a great sin?”. The senior angel smiled cynically “yes god, has said that, he has had it written down by his prophets and messengers and had it widely disseminated to everyone. But, you know, humans, they are a weak souled species, they cant take adversity and attribute it to gods way of testing them before rewarding them. They are so short sighted and short lived that the trials and miseries of a few years breaks their will to live”. He continued the lesson to the young apprentice “Now take this girl for instance, in a few months there’s a going to be a major car crash and the sethji, his wife and daughter are all going to die. The seth’s son, this girls lover is going to be crippled and he is going to come crawling back to her to marry him and restore to her rightful place as his wife”.

“But, but” the cherub spluttered “she’s dying right now and how can all this come to pass if she dies tonight?”. The senior angel signed long and deeply and said “exactly, that’s why I said humans are so short sighted. If only she hadn’t taken the extreme step of taking her own life tonight, her life in a few months would have seen a miraculous turnaround. But that’s free will for you- that which the humans alone were deemed worthy to receive from god and not even we angels got”. The cherub was impressed by the gravity of the senior angel’s pronouncement “so the humans have got better than us? Are they that special to god? Don’t we angels deserve something too? For following gods will without question? While they get to have free will, hope and every kindness in gods power to grant?”.

The perturbation of the little cherub brought a smile to the angels face but when the senior angel smiled this time, it was an ugly smile full of hidden menace “yes they have free will. Yes they have hope. But we, my dear cherub have got the power to break their hopes, merely by standing by and not doing anything to help them. And can you guess the best way to break hope in someone? You don’t break them, you just break something they love and if it’s something which loves them back that’s even better. That’s how they lose hope and give up themselves. And that’s how we angels get our revenge on mankind”. He smiled as gaily as if he had won a great prize.

For hope is indeed a precious gift for mankind and we humans treat it as if it doesn’t matter.

P.S. I have written a lot of short stories- crime fiction, science fiction, social fiction etc but I have never yet written a moral story, something which has a message for the reader. I have been re-reading a lot of my favorite Russian authors- Tolstoy, Chekov, etal and under their influence I have tried to write a honest-to-god message oriented short story for the first time in my life. I expect reader’s feedback to see how far I still have to go to improve. Do write in with your suggestions.

The Mental Aspects of Disease


The Mental Aspects of Disease

Are you frequently fatigued and unable to bring up the drive to work properly as you were wont to do previously? Are you always sad and depressed and don’t have the enthusiasm to do anything about it? Do you keep getting fat even though you are semi starving yourself all the time? Are you anxious? Depressed? Eccentric? Is it time to visit a therapist? A counsellor? A psychiatrist? And talk things over?

Hold on a minute. Perish the thought that psychiatry comprises counselling primarily and counselling can cure anything. It never happens that way in real life despite the millions spent on counselling therapy by gullible people who are desperate for a cure for their symptoms and problems. Despite what counsellors would have you believe, venting out for an hour in a darkened room to a bored person who keeps interjecting soothing platitudes is not going to make your problems disappear or your diseases to cure itself. In 90% of the cases I have mentioned above you will have an as yet undiagnosed physical condition with the remaining being the interplay of your inherited genes with your environment.

If you are depressed or anxious visit a psychiatrist who can prescribe you drugs to bring your mood swings under control before you slash your wrists. Talk therapy can achieve only so much when the entire gamut of your neural messengers inside your brain are playing havoc with your individual neurons making some misfire and others to cease fire.

If you are fatigued all the time go visit a good internist or general physician and rule out any viral diseases -for most of the times, it’s these little culprits who drain you of your energy without any obvious reasons. If still not satisfied, the next port of call should be an endocrinologist who will assess your chemical messengers from the adrenals and thyroids which have an effect on whole body wellness even in miniscule amounts. Any absence or reduction in these little proteins can lead to a whole lot of misery in everyday life.

And finally if you are desperate to lose weight and find you just can’t control your appetite don’t listen to the counsellor who says you have weak will power and over eat. They are just putting the cart before the horse and failing to diagnose the underlying physical problem which is causing you to feel hungry all the time and makes you overeat. Go visit a good endocrinologist and check out your hormone levels. Once you get them under control, your hunger pangs and mood swings will automatically disappear. Don’t blame yourself for being fat and don’t let others blame you- especially if they are taking good money off you just to listen to your failings.

Hunger is an awful thing and you are only human if you are miserable and pre-occupied with thoughts of food when you are dieting. Add to it the emotional stress of being fat- the unspoken judgment that you lack will power, the suffering from internal starvation and the constant guilt feeling when you listen to your body and indulge its wants – none of which can be cured by lying down there and talking about how you are going to make an effort henceforth. Get a blood test done before you start keeping a fancy food diary. Re-balance your hormones so that the food is burnt up to feed you and not just stored away as fat. Do the simple things, the basic things right and the larger issues (pun intended) will take care of themselves.

The mental aspects of disease are real, no one denies that. But that’s not all we are- we are an amalgamation of nerves, hormones and millions and millions of bacteria which live inside us. Any change in any one of these components can cause disease by the very imbalance the body is incapable of managing. You are not just your brain or your mood- you have an entire system of interconnected body parts and organs which, all of them, have their own agenda and look out for their own good. The loss of balance in your physical body can and does affect the brain and vice versa. It’s far easier to diagnose and treat any bodily ailments before trying to tamper with the brain. A good therapist can make you talk your fears out loud, but merely talking them out loud (and paying your therapist for that privilege) is not guaranteed to cure you once and for all. Everyone deserves to live healthy and live happily- not either or but both. So think over your options before jumping to conclusions. All the best.

P.S. this rant was triggered by too many patients professing that they undergo counselling even for blatantly physical diseases which require medications and a boot up their backsides rather than couch talk. I am not sure how these counsellors have done it, but they seem to have convinced an entire generation of idiots that they can talk their way to good health. If only.

On Why I Am A Climate Skeptic Despite Being A Pseudo-Intellectual.


On Why I Am A Climate Skeptic Despite Being A Pseudo-Intellectual.

The burden of being a public intellectual, or at least an aspiring one, is that one is expected to have an opinion on everything under the sun. At times this is easy. For example if asked about my opinion on popular Indian writers or at least  the over rated ones I would have no hesitation in picking up on the grand-dame of self-delusion and the harridan of uncertain prose-Ms. Arundathi Roy whose only claim to fame is the shrill vehemence in which she complains against everything so much so that I fear that she has internalized the title of her own work “In which Annie gives it to those ones” by turning into “In which Arundathi gives it to everyone almost gleefully”.

I could also show off my sly nature with a tribute to the granddaddy of self-publishing – Mr. David Davidar whose book was self-published by his own firm Penguin where he was the chief editor. This was a fortunate occurrence for David Davidar for that book- the house of blue mangoes, reminded uncannily everyone (else) who read it of a previous and well accepted novel with a similar title leading to loud whispers of plagiarism and would have damaged irretrievably the reputation of anyone else who had done the same except that David Davidar was not only promoted, he was given the prestigious on-site offer of penguin Canada editor-in-head. Of such strange quirks are the publishing world made.

Now to stretch the analogy a bit further and prove my snobbish intellectual side I would have to be suitably dismissive of minor Indian writers of uncertain provenance who sell a few thousand soft copies to their Facebook and Instagram followers based on their networking skills on social media (and their attractive dp’s)- people like Preeti Shenoy, amish etc. but I would rather not waste time trashing their books as fluff when everyone else on Quora seem to be doing the same. I would rather tread a different path to burnish my credentials as an intellectual by taking on bigger issues- something like climate change for instance.

Now for the entire week gone past there was a lot of breast beating over the American president trump pulling out of the Paris climate accords. Everyone but everyone including me had an opinion on his act and its aftermath. Although I put up an instant Facebook post, I found it difficult to encapsulate my ideas on such a small platform as Facebook and hence this more explanative blog post. The main fallacy of people with knee jerk reactions and opinions on everything – and here I am talking about the entire Facebook generation- is that they don’t have the intellectual capacity or even the rigor of hard work to read up and analyze anything in depth before positing an opinion. Ask anyone whether the Paris accord was good or bad, they will invariably reply as good. But just ask them what was in the nitty-gritty, the fine details of the Paris accord which made it so good and watch them despair and log out of the internet.

Anyway, I consider the Paris accord as one more con job perpetrated by Trans-national companies on an unsuspecting world population. Their idea of reducing harmful carbon emissions which were increasing the earth’s temperature was to offer carbon credits and offsets to be bought by less polluting countries aka less developed countries and to be traded to more polluting well-developed countries which could use those credits to keep their current levels of emission at status-quo. Now tell me what’s so advantageous about this? To the poor countries which don’t have any emissions? To the rich countries who have to pay through their noses for these trade offsets? And to the earth’s climate in general with the maintainability of current emission levels? I can’t see anyone else benefitting except the middle men who will trade on these carbon credits. So President Trump might have ended up doing the right thing for the wrong reasons- at least let’s give him credit for that.

Now if you ask me about climate change, as an intellectual with a public profile to protect, I would have to say that I am extremely climate-skeptic. I will not dispute the current methodology of working out the heat increase of the planet plotted against the emission levels. But I would argue that the entire science behind the methodology is wrong as is so often seen with respect to long held scientific dogmas based on an initial questionable data collection. The climate change lobby and the earth is in peril give me more money lobby might not agree with me but I consider that our current models of predicting or even studying climate change is flawed because we have so little idea of what sustains our current climate at its level and what the future will hold if emissions continue to rise and the planets core temperature arises by a few more degrees.

Will the earth be able to autocorrect by ushering in another ice age in response to increased temperatures? Will the weather become capricious and unpredictable based on current weather prediction models? Will we be in another era of widespread flooding caused by rising sea levels? Will plants thrive on more heat and better cloud cover- a hot house temperature effect? Will they be releasing more and more oxygen after flourishing in the abundant carbon dioxide levels and in effect changing our planet’s atmosphere into a super oxygenated world? No one has any answers to these and other critical questions on climate change. What we have are beliefs in dogmas and a rigidity in those belief’s which preclude any other point of view contrary.

If at all we are serious about reducing the impact of emissions on our planet the way to go forward is pretty much blindingly obvious to everyone of even average intelligence- to end our dependence on fossil fuels. To stop digging for coal -coal mining/strip mining is one of the biggest eyesores on the earth’s surface. To stop drilling for oil and automatically avoid and undermine all the current religious wars based on abundant oil money financing. To get over the entire damage caused by two hundred years of internal combustion engines which burn parts of the planets dead past aka fossil fuels and just jump into using clean and green fuels- a hydrogen engine’s emission is water vapor for instance, yes pure h2o. Solar, wind, ocean current- there are a whole lot of alternate energy sources available to produce the electric fuel cells necessary for clean energy with zero emissions. And finally to get over our irrational fears of anything nuclear and move on into using nuclear fusion- the cleanest form of energy and used by our sun for instance, to produce everything we use including solar energy. A dyson construct which directly taps into the solar energy near the sun and feeds it to the planet via mirrors might be the stuff of science fiction right now, but so were mobile phones and airplanes at one time. So the future of emission control should be less of control and more of eliminating the necessity of emissions.

And finally to point out the planet Venus as the end effort of climate change and increased emission levels is intellectual dishonesty- for the Venus effect was not caused by venusians or their factories emitting greenhouse gases. What caused it was a giant planet sized object- an asteroid smashing into Venus- boiling off its oceans instantaneously, stopping its rotation, making it lose its magnetosphere and the ability to have and retain an atmosphere which will protect against sun flares and cosmic particles. Now when was the last time you heard one of these green warriors talk about extra-planet sources of danger to the earth and its atmosphere, including climate? When will they learn to stop blaming humanity for all the ills of the planet and take a more broad based view on the dangers affecting humanity as a whole?

I have, as a responsible intellectual ( and to burnish my credentials as one) taken a more broad based view on the dangers affecting humanity which no one else seems to care about, consumed as they are in the nitty gritty of working out carbon offsets and who gets to profit out of which greenhouse gas. If the whole of humanity decides to take a similar broad based view on the fate of the planet then I would say good riddance to the Paris accord and you are welcome Mr. Trump. And if after reading this entire blog post you are still not convinced of my intellectual heft, well, wait till you read my book on this. And, oh yeah, I too can/will put up sexy DP’s to sell my book, so there, you are warned.

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And Thus It Begins.


All for the love of Biriyani.


Disclaimer- This is a work of fiction (science fiction) and no characters resemble living or ruling persons. That said, it’s the unpleasant task of a writer to highlight things before it happens, as it happens and after it happens. Before it happens- as a warning. As it happens- as a chronicle. After it happens- as a memory. Some of the best writers perished in the fascist concentration camps and the communist gulags, because they did not write before it happened or even as it happened- all around them, to others and themselves. A few survivors wrote after the events- by then it was too late to save the millions who perished because of the pusillanimity of the intellectuals who should have been at the forefront of the resistance. Or that’s what history teaches us as it judges events (and persons) dispassionately.

That morning he woke up at his usual early morning hour without the assistance of the electro-assist alarm thus saving a few volts of electricity and more importantly avoiding the painful early morning electric shock which usually woke him up daily. Once up, he wasted no time in heading to the bathroom to have the regulated two minute shower and then dressed quickly in a white dhoti and long sleeved white shirt, his usual office attire, before heading to the insta-coffee maker to grab his early morning cuppa of fresh chicory brew, his only breakfast on working mornings. As he gulped down the hot and bitter brew he waxed nostalgic on the genuine coffee, from fresh roasted beans, he had enjoyed in his younger days. But those days of luxurious life on earth were long past, the unsustainable population explosion had put paid to luxuries like coffee long ago and only the uber rich were thought to be able to sample such genuine luxuries nowadays. He sighed and put down the mud pot in the recycler and picking up his jute bag, plastics having been banned ages ago, he went off to the station to catch his pod to work.

From his suburban house in the foothills off the chamundi hills to the pod station at Mysore central was a 20 minute commute by uber and a vehicle was automatically re-routed to pick him up by the action of locking his door electronically using his Aadhar key-card. As he hung the card back on his neck using the lanyard he reflected how his apartment was all safe now from unauthorized access as the only two who could open the door without that key were him and the government both with access to his fingerprints and iris prints. In locking his door behind securely he was often considered an anachronism and was made much fun of in the beginning but old habits die hard and despite the government propaganda labelling those who locked their doors as anti-national and paper money hoarders and colleagues questioning his patriotism as “if you have nothing to hide in there then why do you lock the door when you leave the house?” he still preferred to lock the doors in his absence.

This was due to, thought he wouldn’t admit it, a fear that his ex-wife would move back into the empty house in his absence if he left it unlocked. If she, god forbid did that, he would have no recourse legally except to share the apartment again with that treacherous woman who had made him the laughing stock of the Hyderabad office by co-habiting with her supervisor openly and who he could not divorce like in the old/bad times because according to the new constitution, circa 2019, a man and his wife were supposed to stay married for seven lifetimes with no option of divorce even after death and anyone who complained his wife was cheating on him was labelled an anti-national and told to follow the example of the soldiers on the border who lived a life of celibacy. That was the prime reason he had shifted work to Chennai even though he hated to visit the new Chennai, what was left over of the city post the 2020 mega-tsunami.

When he finally reached the pod station at Mysore junction, he was lucky to find a pod just ready to leave for Chennai and so he crawled into it and strapped himself in tightly for the twenty minute commute to Chennai sriperumbudur hyper loop station. The pod whizzed away on its breakneck speed and he felt a slight tinge of nostalgia for all the sights he was missing outside the vacuum tube on which the hyper loop train ran. But then again he remembered that it was all mostly an ugly industrial sprawl – a continuous slum, right from Bangalore to Chennai and that’s why he had moved to live near the chamundi hills rather than stay in some urban coop inside Bangalore city. The extra twenty minutes of commute was worth it in his view. After he got out of his pod at Chennai sriperumbudar station, he hopped into the company van which was waiting to transport a few others like him who commuted daily form Bangalore and soon he was working at his desk in his office.

Hunched over his computer console he checked again the work which had accumulated in his absence- but thankfully it had been a quiet night and the overnight alerts were few. Not many people had made fun of or criticized the government last night so he didn’t need to alert the special riot squad of the cbi to raid their homes and taser them with a 1000 volts charge – to fry their brains and memories- before transporting such anti-national culprits to the Andaman jail for life. He felt dirty doing such work and remembered a time long back when he had done work as a cyber-security consultant who hunted people for releasing torrents of new film releases. But that was before the new constitution which made watching unsanctioned films a crime worthy of being sent to jail for ten years without bail. As most films, make that 90% of the films, didn’t get censor sanction for one reason or the other and no one in their right mind wanted to risk watching a film, any film and then go to jail for ten years the once thriving film industry had gradually died down and been replaced by documentaries on nature which easily passed the censors. Now all cyber security experts worked on government contracts trying to trace anti-nationals who criticized the legitimate government and the supreme leader.

As he was sitting there mulling over the changes in society over the past decade, his co-worker from the next terminal leant over and  said “happy birthday sirji, just now saw the alert for your birthday on social media platforms, how come you kept it so quiet?”. He smiled outwards at that greeting but inwardly cringing he said “aww, shucks, we are not kids are we? to be celebrating birthdays?”. His colleague was persistent if anything and said “but sirji you can’t escape so easily, you have to give us all a party next pay day” before turning back to his terminal to continue working. He was suddenly captivated by the word party and started reminiscing on past birthdays, how they had been filled with friends, booze and biryani. Ever since the supreme leader and the party of the pure had come to power he had forgotten the pleasures of both, like all the rest of the citizens and had turned into model subjects- vegetarian and teetotalers.

But the reminder of biryani suddenly triggered long dormant memories and cravings inside him. He thought over his life in those days and compared it with now- a meaningless, routine existence where the government ruled over everything you did, including what you ate and suddenly felt within himself a small spark of defiance. It had been ages since he had eaten biryani, so why not try today? His work as a cyber-security consultant had its advantages, occasionally he came across online posts on contraband availability. He had recently seen one such post on biryani being available at a nearby city called Ambur, clandestinely. The thought of tasting biryani after ten years made him light headed reckless and strangely rebellious. He decided to head out to Ambur in his lunch break and see if it was authentic biriyani made of non-vegetarian mutton.

Once he had made up his mind, he surreptitiously opened up the old post he had flagged with the number of the biryani shop and noting it down walked down to the rest room and made the call. A voice on the other end gave him his instructions to take a cab and be in ambur central by 30 mins. So he went back to his cubicle to wind down his work and filled out the form for his lunch break and forwarded it to his superior who Okayed it and allowed him to go out and eat. Once outside his workplace he flagged down a cab for the ten minute ride to ambur. Once there he stood looking around for five minutes till a shady looking character sidled up to him and said “are you the one who called for the biryani?” when he affirmed that it was indeed him, the shady guy asked “do you have any identification to show you are not from the anti-non veg squad ”? when he had shown the man his aadhar card and had assured him that he was indeed a legitimate customer if a bit kinky who just craved meat suddenly, the tout invited him into a vehicle and said “we will go in this vehicle to the actual place, it’s just a few minutes away in vaniyambadi nearby, we don’t advertise the actual locations for obvious reasons”. Fine, he said and went along with him till they reached what looked like a prosperous little eatery advertising “pure-veg food prepared exclusively by Brahmin hands” as he hesitated on the steps, his contact smiled and said “don’t worry saar, we have a special section upstairs” and hustled him into the eatery and up a small flight of stairs to a dingy little hall upstairs where a small group of people were looking around furtively as they ate the banned biriyani.

As the smell of well-made ambur mutton biryani wafted through his nostrils he leant back his head and sniffed it to his heart’s content. And then a plate of it was placed before him and he rolled up a morsel and popped it into his mouth. It was just the right taste, hot, spicy and a little bit tangy as a proper biryani should be. The accompanying side dish- again a banned item- chicken 65 – was crispy and fresh and he took the time to savour a piece chewing it softly. It was while he was in the midst of satisfying his long suppressed desires and on the way to achieving food-nirvana that the police raided the small hotel and burst into the hitherto secret room upstairs serving non veg food. A few patrons tried to escape but they found that an entire platoon from the anti-non veg squad had surrounded the place with orders to shoot on sight those trying to escape after committing this heinous crime of eating non-vegetarian food in swaach bharat country. The next day all those arrested for the crime of eating meat, a hundred or so daily, were produced before a fast track court especially set up to deal with such capital crimes and were summarily sentenced to death.

As he was strapped to the latest model koodankulam mark-4 type electric chair and the electrodes placed on his chest to transmit the 10, 000 plus volts needed to fry his heart to death instantaneously , he looked up and out at the cameras live telecasting his death to the cowed millions watching the daily death show of anti-nationals who defy the dictates of the supreme leader (and his storm troopers) and smilingly said “tyranny comes in many forms and it’s not easy to recognize it in its initial avatar. I should have protested when they banned rupee notes, I should have protested when they made identity card carrying compulsory, I should have protested when they banned my local language, I should have protested when they made me, an individual, responsible for everything the government should do. But I didn’t, not even when they told me what to do, what to speak, how to live and even what to think. Well, it ends today, one way or the other for me. For, it’s a far far better place I go to, a place where no one will dictate what we should eat and as I go there with the still lingering taste of biryani in my memory, i think my death is worth it” as the lever was pulled and he was fried to death for desiring a biryani.

P.S. if you think this is a bit far-fetched, wait till the election results of the 2019 general elections. A fair warning to all of you- please voluntarily convert yourselves to pure vegetarians by then.