Why JanLokpal will never be a revolution

Looking through the annals of history, we find that there were revolutions ever since humankind came into existence. Wikipedia defines revolutions as, "A revolution (revolutio, "a turn around") is a fundamental change in power or organizational structures that takes place in a relatively short period of time."

Three pillars to be identified: Fundamental Change, Power Structure and short period of time.

We have seen, in the recent memory, examples of Revolutions: the Cairo uprising, Qadhafi's debacle in Libya and the others collectively known as the Arab Spring.  The pillars are intact: the countries moved from dictatorships to democracies in a very short period of time.

We might as well consider our own revolutions: the White and the green revolutions turned India from an import dependant nation to one that could feed its millions (later billions) on its own. Liberalizattion in the early 1990's struck down the socialistic pattern of business and made India a player on the global stage. The timeline for these may not be exactly short, but the effect of these had started trickling in in about 1/10 of the time that the country was free. Relatively short!

Anna, a man of courage and conviction, had successfully ousted a lot of ministers and had become a master at the satyagraha route. The team at IAC was undoubtedly devoted and had the best names to count as friends and the heaviest names to count as foes. The Lokpal, as they earlier called it, would bring unparalleled transparency into the country across the spectrum and will bring the guilty to the gallows. They started out with demanding some sort of representation to draft the bill. The government granted the same, much to the dismay of BJP and others, who wanted the opposition in the parliament to be consulted as well. The government did go the extra mile and included 5 members on a parity level (in terms of numbers). Also, the members were nominated by the team. Probably, the government could have been highhanded and included all NAC members. Yes they are civil society and yes they are the intelligentia who think and work for the betterment of people.

This is where problem started. The moment a sizeable public opinion was with them, the IAC seized the moment and started blackmailing the government. In doing so, they became exactly what they despise: an opaque organization with a few leaders who shall mould public opinion to their interests and leave aside others in their race to fame.

I read an article in Tehelka (http://www.tehelka.com/story_main50.asp?filename=Ws210911IAC.asp) today that informs that the IAC team shall focus on poll bound areas and will campaign against anyone who does not support Jan Lokpal. The team is leaving no room for an informed debate. They seem to be banking on the same adage as dictators of the world- Its my way or the highway.

I admit corruption has surpassed accepable levels, and probably the same has started showing in terms of rising inflation, dipping growth rates, falling investor sentiments and a general sense of being cheated upon. I also agree that we need a sustainable and effective mechanism to deal with the same. However, having the Janlokpal and not the Lokpal or the NCPRI Lokpal will not eradicate corruption overnight. Best case, it will deter people. Worst case, it will end up with 32000 pending cases which then go the courts and end up nowhere. Probably, strengthening of the CBI, CVC and implementation of police reforms will go a longer way in correcting this mess. We need to debate that. If, on the back of unending support from people, the IAC forces legislators to blindly vote for their idea, it will be a defeat of the democracy that we champion.

But, the support is not endless. A characteristic of the modern day media is easy access, which almost translates into easy egress. It grants 15 minutes of fame to everyone. From the sweet little voice from Dehradun to the troubled South Indian in Delhi. The movement banked on social and other media to get going and that is where it will fail.

The movement will not bring about a fundamental change: It will at best add another layer to the already overcomplex Indian bureaucracy. Why I say overcomplex is the way the case for Rajiv Gandhi's killers is handled. From one court to the other, to the higher and highest and then back to square one.
As for the power structure, it will remain with the current batch of legislators for the next three years atleast. Even within the civil society, there are hugely dissenting voices from all corners. Other drafts of the bill have appeared and equally competent ppeople have complained about not being represented in what is seen to be a fight for representation.

Protest marches are a common sight in India. So much so, that places have been marked for it in the various cities and towns. Fasts again, are all too common. And in a country where everybody has fasted once atleast (for religious reasons or poverty reasons), a fast will not mould opinions beyond a point.
Lastly, the time frame. As discussed earlier, the movement thrived on social media, their 15 minutes of fame are over. Never again shall we see the same crowd on the streets.

We honestly thought that the IAC will provide us respite from corruption. Power corrupts, Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Forcing legislations is absolute power. We are supporting what we are fighting against!


(Views expressed are personal)

Nainital

I adore the beauty that mesmerises many
She might be the world's darling,
but when its me, its just me
and her, and the silent bond
that few can understand
of longlost lovers
of separated souls that are but one
This is the place i find solace in
this, the meadow of my birth,
the romance of my youth
and the fantastyland of my dreams.

To Nainital: my muse, my beloved!

Nanda Devi Festival

After many years, I got a chance to visit Nainital during the ongoing Nanda Devi festival.
The festival celebrates the visit of Nanda Devi to her mother’s home.
Nanda Devi is one among the numerous forms of Shakti and there are numerous legends in folklore about her. There is a widespread belief that Nanda Devi is Yoga Maya, the baby girl who replaced Krishna in the prison and escaped from the hands of Kamsa and warned him that Krishna, the son of Devaki, is already born and he will put an end to the terror of Kamsa.
She is also the Goddess of the Kumaon region and is believed to be Shiva's wife whose eyes form the Naini Lake today.
This time of the year also celebrates autumn in Nainital. There are very few tourists and the rains have subsided leaving behind lush greenery. The following photos celebrate the feeling.
Clouds on the lake. Heavenly Feeling


The Bagpipe. The personis part of the Choliya bands that play traditional kumaoni music


Goddesses Nanda and Sunanda


The lights


The fireworks


The glory


The Environmentalists. Prof. Yashpal Rawat teaches youngsters swimming and kayaking and also cleans the lake regularly.


The solitary boat


One key feature of NAinital. The Temple, Gurudwara and Mosque are together. The church is also pretty near.

A generation awakens.. but How?

(All views expressed here are personal and cannot be attributed to my employers and/or mentors)


I was back home, sitting in the verandah when I saw my younger cousins, all of 4 and 8 years respectively running around chanting "ek do teen chaar, band karo ye Bastachar". It was then that it struck me,the movement had become bigger than any of us expected. It had taken the nation by storm and the statesmen by surprise.

I went around to find young men and women racing around town in sexy cars and bikes, with candles and flags and the now familiar Gandhi-Anna topi chanting slogans. Some slogans wer pro-country, some were anti-establishment. However, in the heat of the moment, both passed off equally well. My country was getting up from a state of slumber, the nationalist in me was happy. I remembered the lines said by Nehru, "A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance."

I remembered the days of the agitation against reservation. Having been a part of it five years back when the entire nation erupted against reservations, I had some amount of skepticism with the results. The earlier movement had also died an untimely death. The establishment had stuck to its guns and set some grey bearded men to report on it. What happened is anybody's guess.

Despite the fervour, I made out that something was missing. Soon I figured what. The agitation had little to do with Lokpal or anti-corruption. It was a generation venting out its anger against the establishment. The same generation that refuses to count their bit in the mess. Understandably so, they were fed with vague statistics and incorrect news and were fed up of their present situation. I do not wish to poke fingers at anyone so I will take myself as an example.

I am an honest Indian. Last year, I paid almost a month's salary as Income Tax. When the time came, I left a cushy job to participate in the Legislative process of the country, never mind the huge salary cut. But, am I clean? The question may be as hypothetical as the advert asking, "Have I made it Large?" but is important, because we need to introspect.

The answer is no.

• I had my licence when I was 15.
  
• For the one which I currently hold, I haven't given a driving test. It was delivered to my residence.
• My voter ID has a picture of me atop a Gypsy at Corbett. This was because when the police came for verification, I was away. My mom gave them the print of whatever photograph she found. Verified!
  
• I have avoided paying the challan and instead paid in cash (because, I can pay the challan and not the cops, but I really dont want to go to a court to do that)
• Despite paying a huge amount of income- tax, I have cut corners while paying sales-tax by buying things without a bill (buying camera equipment from Chandni Chowk- rings a bell?)
  
• On and off, I have travelled in trains/buses on various VIP and "friends' dad" quota.
• Rarely have I paid for services provided by various government organizations to my family and friends.
• I have a lot of friends who pay minimum tax but have crores of wealth stashed away in a maze of cross holding companies in the names of all known/unknown relatives.
  

This is a representative list. If any of us say yes to one of these, we are corrupt. Then how on earth can we run around town asking for stronger Lokpal. Corruption will not leave this country till it leaves our hearts. The lokpal will have no magic wand to transform everyone's conduct. At a personal level, we need to introspect. At a policy level, we need to identify the reasons for corruption.

Recently, there was an article saying, "PhD's applying for Class four positions". I wasn't surprised. A class four employee (peon/ attendant/ orderly/ driver) hold enormous Access power. A transclucent system ensures that nobody knows what happens in a government office.

The officer concerned may be honest, but he doesn't have the time to look at everything. He will only look at the files on his table. Who puts the files there? The peon. An officer who is managing an entire district/ office/ profit center is always on rollerskates. There is only one person who has his ear. The driver.

Now substantiating the point od PhD's applying for these positions. It lies in this power that almost always translates into money. It is not entirely impossible for someone to earn double his salary due to the power.

Taxation: The business class, from the local grocery owner to the owners of largest oil fields, thrive on corruption. From bribing the ruling class for a licence to creating fictitious companies that almost always run into losses, they do indulge in what they despise.

The circumventing power: I know the MD and the GM won't bow down to me. So I call up my friend and he just puts in a word. Nothing unethical, but this is the consequence of the immense discretionary authority given to bureaucrats and politicians. This ultimately resuly in objections being overruled and/ or the honest persons being forced into accomplice.

Combine all these people in a society. The peon takes the money because he wants a lifestyle suiting his education and atleast matching those traders who he lives with and who have almost entirely been unknown to taxes. The third guy uses his Uncle power to stand in sync with these. It is a vicious circle.

The question arises who takes the lead. Uninformed youth will not take the country anywhere. I saw people celebrating the Victory yesterday. Pray tell me, what was the victory after which the entire country celebrated and downed tonnes of Happiness.

The youth needs to understand that attending a candle march does not improve the society. It is our actions that need to be improved. Till we inculcate a sense of belonging to the nation and an allegiance to the nation's laws, we cannot weed out this devil.

Youth without helmets triple riding on bikes with some happiness gulped down are in no way capable of keeping up a revolution. A revolution requires you to be clean and free of the traits you are fighting against. Not everyone who wears the Gandhi topi is clean, nor is the person who demans a Lokpal.

Monsoons

It was Friday, and like any other Friday, I was happy. People who have seen me around will recall the 440 watt (or volt) smile that adorns my face on Fridays. The colorful clothes and the feel of the coming weekend fill the atmosphere with a joy that is shared by all (except the Saturday shift people).

So that it was, I was working at my usual pace when my taste buds demanded a treat. As always, I wandered to Sneha’s seat. (I usually find something there). She was all charged up, and to emphasize the same, was talking in a tone befitting the shift coordinator. Not understanding my motive, she quickly glanced through the capacity sheet and asked in a now normal tone, “Capacity chahiye?” I did not answer, and instead focused my energies on the apple in her Tiffin. She continued, “You have a comp- off on Monday, working Tuesday to Saturday next week.” I gave her an oink smile and wandered back.

Back at my seat, I looked at the watch. It was 3, one and a half hours to go. My work was almost through, maintaining a good pace, I will be able to leave by 5, I thought to myself. I was happy and looked out of the window; it had been raining incessantly since morning. My seat provides a good view of the city and trust me, it has never been more beautiful. I was reminded of Nainital, my home town.

At 9, I was seated in the bus to Nainital. I have never wasted any opportunity to run back home and a long weekend provided me with the same. I looked outside at the rain drops falling on the window and fell asleep.

The conductor’s tap on my shoulder woke me up. It was morning and we had reached Nainital. He told me that it had been raining heavily for the past three days and the roads were blocked at quite a few places. Luckily for us, the PWD dozers were at work and we had been able to reach on time.

I got off the bus and ran to the nearest shelter. The lake was barely twenty feet away but was invisible due to the heavy rains. Now, rains in the hills are very different from rains here. Firstly, they are heavy and incessant. Nainital is known for “Satjhads”- Rains that last a week at a stretch. The only time the locals get to move around is about an hour in the morning and one in the evening. For the remaining time, it rains as if there would be no land left to receive it the next time around!

Back to the scene, I had no umbrella and no raincoat- umbrellas anyways are useless in such heavy rains. I had two options- one to call up home and wait till the relief arrived, or two –to run home. I chose the latter. It helped that my house is just a 100 odd meters away from the lake, but by I time I completed that dash, (had I timed it, I would have definitely surpassed Usain Bolt) I was drenched to the core.

After a good lecture from my parents on- 1. Travelling at night in the monsoons; 2. Not informing home; and 3. Getting drenched, I was treated to a sumptuous meal. I could have taken a hundred more lectures for one more bite there, but that’s another story. Sometime during the day, despite my mom warning of dire consequences (which generally don’t go beyond telling dad about it), I ventured out. I had taken my raincoat and rain boots to be able to enjoy the rain without any fear of getting wet. The mall road was empty, devoid of people and looked a raw version of what it was during the peak summer season. The occasional car with blinkers on and wipers running at full speed, or a heavily clad man on his bike (He could easily give Undertaker a run for his money) were the only signs of habitation. The hotels adorning the hill side were in a slumber state. Tourists, few as they were, were peeping out of the hotel windows, and probably wondering if they rightly spent their hard earned cash. Waiters could be seen running in and out with hot steaming pakoras and tea. The steam was visible through the rains and sent a craving down my tummy.

The lake on the other side wore a shroud of thin smoke. The ripples formed by the rain were clashing with each other to produce strange patterns. The waves were crashing against the sides and the lake was a good ten feet high from its lowest level reached during the summers.

While the eyes were feasting on the above described beauty, the ears had a different tale to tell. The constant rains falling on my cap were producing a continuous sound, the nearest equivalent of which I have only heard in the recently concluded World Cup, the vuvuzela. Also, the swish sound produced by the rain coat with every step had somehow adjusted itself to the constant humming producing a melody that is hard to describe.

A walk down the mall road and I had started feeling cold. Came to my rescue the newly opened CCD, perched a couple of floors above the mall offering a fantastic view of the lake. The facility has two parts, the lake facing side is open and the inside is air-conditioned. I went in to find a couple of groups sitting inside chatting their way to glory. I wanted to go up to them and tell them that it would have been better for them to sit in the air- conditioned environs of their home in Delhi, rather than travel all the way up here to do the same. However, better sense prevailed and I quickly made my way outside and sat on the corner seat. A cup of black tea arrived soon after and I sat gazing at the lake taking sips of the steaming tea at slow, regular intervals. I could see the fog running towards me, the clouds flying in, and all I wanted to do was to take all of it, to remember when I’m next wading my car through the high seas of Gurgaon.

e-47 .. my home.. my paradise

All that I remember at E-47..

The first time we walked all the way to VKRV, then the second and so on till it became a second home. Maharaj, and all his RSS talks. The walk down the ridge jab Sajal ki fati thi, discovering various cheap n best eating joints for Food: Parathas at patel chest, chawla chicken, zee chicken, flames, friends, noodles, omlettes, d-skool, jp tea, stephens omlettes, tom uncle, chacha, bille, vaishno, juice wala, CCD, KARIM’s, KFC, McD, domino’s ka arrangement. Police: first time, then second time and then with the pistol, then with the baton. Yogi ki bottle, khanna got nailed,. Dua ne bulai….Football.. my room, rikky’s room….First panga with aunty, then another , then with kesar, then another.. 300 rupees…. Morning jogs.. gyms…. TATA ACE.. aur ace to kuch bhi nahi hai.. hamare paas to MONSTER TRUCK hai… scooter.. bike… no petrol….. Ghanta SWIFT.. netaji subhas place…. Brothers…… unki swift….. wifi.. MBA… MURTHAL.. with manyu… n HAUNTED church which anyways wasn’t a church .. n it wasn’t haunted….Accident.. yogi ka accident.. kuldeep ka accident..…..First drink.. then another.. some suttas.. n cigars.. kuldeep’s bday.. wine… mohit’s and ricky’s…. ginger.. utkarsh charcoal… bihari… mohit.. ricky.. the DUA”s… ACE.. six…. Vaibhav….shikhar’s Honda…. Ankur’s Skoda… al –bake shawarma’s.. noida expressway….random bike rides… raat bhar patte….subah exam me fatte…. All night studies.. bablu ki chai.. kuldeep ka dance.. soni de nakhre.. girls pg.. dancing beauty….not so beautiful…shikhar’s bday.. harpic… india gate.. cp..kuldeep SATTA.. ricky ka KATTA.. khanna ka make-up.. ricky ka break up….vaibhav ki movies.. HAIN???,,, mohit_10 ‘o clok..Kuldeep ki lena… fir usko hi dena…ankur ka ghar.. sansar.. aur shayad pyar.. ricky’s boss… went into loss… tapish ke KATTE.. sath me khukri..vaibhav ki tharak.. ankur BAL VIKAS alumni.. kotari ki chokri.. bhaiyo ke lotion.. ankur ka poshan…khanna ko loose motion….vending machines..RAJA GARDEN, kake da dhaba…KHAN MARKET: KATTA>> Friday….khanna ki duty.. tapish ki duty… kuldeep ki duty.. shikhar ki tooti.. ricky ki kismet footi…uttapama.. fergusson.. WHITE SHOES>>>YELLOW SHOES..ankur choose..maiyo ve… chori.. fir seenazori.. darwazo par joote.. vaibhav ke chashme foote.. naya AC ana.. fir b na chalana..my terrace,… “HINDU”.. table tennis.. smarty UTKARSH.. tips to pataofy a girl.. fir b sab single.. ta na na na na ri.. pizza hamesha free.. 4th floor… DUA ke karele aur 2 ton ka AC…..shooting an elephant….. movies.. vodka, wine, whisky, rum, all in moksha’s drawer.. MALAI MAKHAN from Kanpur.. kuldeep ke ghar ke laddo.. chadha junction….Tapish’ crushes.. which ultimately all crash……..nainital on bike.. HARIDWAR,…… THE HEARTTHROB”S>>>(n***, V****, S*****, S*****, P*******, R****, S*****, K*****, K*****, J***, R*****, J****, S****, C*******,t******) finally KATTA…………..RIDGE PAR Puncture.. white Verna.. moksha flying…. VKRV.. raat me patte.. doosra puncture……faad raat.. sabki fati…tujhme rab dikhta hai… beete lamhein..kaise mujhe…Fests: KK Nite.. IIPM FEST….. Euphoria.. chatarpur road.. off to badarpur…saket me raat.. mechanic ke saath..”aye haye aye haye haye..Dishkyaon..” faltoo ke pange…. Pyar ke side effects….infact after effects…. Bunglow road.. “**** ” ayi hai ayi hai.. bade dino ke baad…..” kuldeep ki net practice.. ricky guide….jhula…roof.. pitampura ka view…

The year that went by gave me so much as it did to all the people involved… will never forget this year.. thanku every1 for making my year so special.. E47ers rock….

The feeling sinks in….

I remember the day I was carefully planted by a bunch of kids in a garden off the coast. The kids were happy and repeatedly marveled at my luck that my seeds came from another part of the country and I had got the park with the best gardener. I marveled at the huge trees surrounding me that were now being taken out to play their part in life’s scheme of things. I had decided, I had to imbibe everything that the park provided me  and walk out as the huge towering tree that everyone would look up to and that would be a guiding light for seeds that were yet unborn.

There were seeds of various varieties, some matched, and some didn’t.  However, this did not stop all of us from playing around in the garden. Slowly we all got to know each other and our different backgrounds helped us learn fast.  The gardener came everyday and watered us, so that we could grow up into what he dreamt for us. He made us realize what we were worth and how important each tree was to the society.

I still remember the day I bore my first leaf. Some others had started getting their spurs also, while the others were still strengthening the roots. It felt great and a sense of achievement ran through my entire body. And then the trees started outgrowing their peers. There were some who could work their way up the value chain easier than others.  They gained, others lost out. The gardener was at times troubled by the scenario but he had seen all others do the same. The rewards were more impressive than peace but somehow all trees loved this chaos. Getting prepared for life as some called it, it was fun braving the gales and tornadoes of life right in our backyard. Some of us found shelters during this time, shelters that we could bank upon if a calamity strikes. With every tornado that struck, we huddled into our comfort zone; it was as if we can stand tall in front of any calamity as far as we are together. We even found the trees with whom there was no connection and those with whom we could sway in the winds for hours on end.

One fine day, the gardener decided that the trees would have to move on. We were asked to start for our journey ahead. Various states and cities took trees as they required. Some were to beautify the parks, some to hold the rivers and still others to fructify and be of service to humanity. It was then that we realized that the tornadoes were yet to come, the gales yet to be faced, and the comfort zones would be missing. I for my part, would miss the casuarinas tree that always stood by me, the eucalyptus that always heard me when silent tears were flowing down my eyes, the mango tree that gave me all its fruits happily, and the tall deodars whom I’ll always look up to and will always aspire to be strong and tall like them. Tall not in height, but in spirit, that never say die spirit that I came across and that always inspired me to go the extra mile. I now go to another beautiful garden where some new trees and new challenges await me. But I will miss this ground of mine, which honed me, where I grew from a seed to a tree, a fine grown tree. I look upto my peers, all fine grown men, ready to take on their responsibilities and ready to face all tornadoes alone. I am thankful to the gardener for his patience to see us evolve over a period of years, I thank god for lending his unending support in the entire endeavour.

And as I write this, the feeling sinks in, I am moving out into a new world, away from my cocoon, from my known surroundings, and I’ll cherish them all my life.