The current ruling coalition government led by the Congress Party is set to be humiliated internationally, because the Indian Communists (who provide “outside” support to the coalition) are opposing the India-US nuclear deal. The Indian Prime Minister has staked his personal reputation as well as that of the nation on this deal. This does not bother the Communists. The Communists say (falsely) that the deal will make India a vassal state of the US. They are well aware that with rising inflation and a worsening economy, the Congress will be loath call their bluff and call for an early general election. They have the Congress party down, and nearly out. Let us look at the facts and the track record of our Indian Communists:
• Communist China (a country idolized by Indian Communists) has signed an identical nuclear deal with the US. Do Indian communists feel that China is a vassal state of the US?
• Erstwhile communist state Russia is exhorting India to sign the deal, saying it will help in the development of the country.
• It has been established beyond all doubt that the deal will provide power and fuel starved India access to unlimited amounts of clean, inexpensive nuclear energy that the country sorely needs if it is to join the ranks of developed nations in the 21st century. Besides, China is now providing Pakistan with sophisticated nuclear technology. Can you imagine what will happen if Pakistan develops sophisticated nuclear technology and India doesn’t?
The Congress Party, dominant partner in the current ruling coalition government has been sleeping with the enemy for the last four and a half years. The Communists have taken every opportunity to embarrass, humiliate and denigrate their “allies”, the Congress.
• They have not allowed foreign direct investment in the country’s retail and insurance sectors. This would have created millions of much needed jobs in India’s hinterlands.
• They have not allowed the Congress to disinvest in chronically loss-making public sector enterprises, a move that would have brought in much needed funds for strengthening public education and enhancing India’s appalling road and port infrastructure.
• A recent international survey showed that India is a “soft target” for international terrorism. India is the country with the second largest number of victims of international terrorism – second only to Iraq. The current government has done nothing to curb terrorism – it is shameful. Yet our Communists believe that terrorism within our country is not something that demands attention and a solution. In their view, it is a mere “law and order” problem. Nothing could be further from the truth. Maybe our “comrades” should ask the families and loved ones of the hundreds who died in the horrific Mumbai suburban train blasts if terrorism is only a “law and order” problem.
• The Indian Communists are strong supporters of China. Over the last year or so, China has been flexing its military muscle by sending its troops into Indian territory in the north-eastern states of Arunachal Pradesh and Sikkim. The Chinese do not recognize the international border and claim the entire state of Arunachal Pradesh and upper Assam as part of they call “greater Tibet”. India’s response to these Chinese transgressions has been feeble, partly because the Communists have not allowed India to protest. It is important to remember that during the Indo-China war of 1962, the Indian Communists were the only party in India that celebrated when China won!! To date, Indian Communists claim that India was the aggressor in that war – a claim that has been proved wholly wrong by documented historical facts.
• Critics of the Indian Communists also claim that they support the destructive Maoist insurgency that has now taken hold of large parts of central and eastern India. I do not know if this allegation is true, but it is certainly a possibility. What is beyond dispute is that the Maoist insurgency has grown exponentially more powerful and threatening since the current ruling coalition and their allies (read: the Communists) came to power at the Centre four and a half years ago.
Matters have not been helped by a weak, timid Congress party. The Congress who have a much larger number of seats in Parliament, have been completely bullied into submission on every single issue by the Communists, who have not more than 11% of all the seats in the Indian Lok Sabha (Parliament). I am no great supporter of the Indian Congress party, but there is no doubt that it is one of the only two parties in India (the Bharatiya Janata Party is the other) that can lay claim to being a pan-Indian, progressive political party. The decline of the Congress, while self-inflicted, is still sad. The Communists have actively plotted and connived to wound the Congress Party over the last few years. And they are allies of the Congress in the current political dispensation. With friends like these, who needs enemies?
Make no mistake about it. The biggest threat to India and our vibrant, diverse democracy comes not from Pakistan, China or religious fundamentalists. It comes from the Indian Communists – the enemy within. To make matters worse, Indian communists are not nearly as progressive as their Chinese counterparts. China today is a capitalist dictatorship – a communist country only in name. Thanks to extensive economic reforms in that country, China today has transformed itself into a powerful, developed nation. Our home-grown communists on the other hand, pine for the days of Stalin and Mao, men who impoverished their countries and murdered millions of their countrymen in the name of communism. Our comrades still use outdated, discredited terms in their speech – “capitalist roaders”, “imperialists and their running dogs”, etc. These are terms that have been discreetly eliminated from the vocabularies of their counterparts in China.
Our comrades would like to remodel India and make it like the China or Russia of the 1940s and 1950s, or the North Korea of today – an extreme left-wing totalitarian state that robs its citizens of their basic liberties and ships off dissidents to gulags (when it does not kill them). If you think I am joking, look at rural West Bengal – an Indian state ruled by the Communists for the last thirty years. Most Bengalis with an education and initiative to succeed have left the state to seek greener pastures elsewhere in the country, or overseas. The economy of West Bengal is in shambles, A similar situation would have prevailed in the other Indian state run by the Communists – Kerala, if it wasn’t for the vast amounts of money repatriated to that state by residents who live and work (largely in menial jobs) in the Middle East. Kerala’s economy is afloat in large part, due to the state’s “remittance economy”. Therefore, the economic track record of our Communists does not inspire confidence.
Mikhail Gorbachev and Deng Xiao-ping were visionaries, who realized that there was nothing romantic or desirable in keeping their countrymen impoverished and disenfranchised. They realized that communism as a political and more importantly, as an economic system was flawed and was not working. Thanks to them, Russia and China are well on the way to prosperity and power today. Russia has become a capitalist country with some degree of democracy. China has become a capitalist dictatorship that pays only lip service to communism. Somehow, these changes in Russia and China bypassed our home-grown communists, who still whole-heartedly believe in the old-style communist dogma propagated by Mao Zedong – it doesn’t matter how you come to power or who you have to kill to achieve it, as long as you rule, absolutely and totally. For them, “power flows from the barrel of a gun”, as Mao so succinctly put it. There is no room for debate or disagreement, and economic prosperity is anathema.
Educated middle-class Indians who now constitute 30% of the country’s population are often accused of not caring enough about India. There is a simple way to show that you care about this country of ours, which is on the verge of greatness. There will be a general election shortly – it is anywhere between three to twelve months away (depending on how political events unfold in the next few weeks). Make sure you vote.
On one side is progress and prosperity. On the other, is the abyss of despair and continued impoverishment – as embodied by India’s communists. I am not a believer in totalitarianism. The Indian Communists have a right to contest elections, just like every other political party out there. And you have the right and the duty to vote - for your conscience, and the continued progress of our great nation. Please do so – and send these enemies of our nation back to the political wilderness from where they emerged. Make sure you vote. Make sure your voice is heard. You deserve it. India deserves it.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Why Lawns Are Like Dogs (And Other Stories)
You must be wondering about the title of this blog. Do not fear. By the time you get to the end of it (and I sincerely hope that you will be your usual patient self and read the whole thing), you will hopefully know what I am talking about.
Why exactly, are lawns like dogs, you ask?? Let me start at the beginning. I spent the first few months of this year searching for an apartment in the Indian city of Pune, the self-professed education and information technology hub of India (and it is actually). Making the decision to move to Pune from Babylon-like Bombay was not an easy one, I assure you. Having made that decision, I spent a few hectic days in February, scouting out potential homes in Pune. My search started in the desert-like surroundings of Kharadi, a far-flung corner of Pune that the real estate agent optimistically told me was “within the boundaries of the Pune Municipal Corporation”. His words offered me little comfort. Kharadi turned out to be a sort of rural India setting, dusty and in the middle of nowhere. There is a futuristic Information Technology (IT) Park coming up there, but it will take about three years before the place becomes habitable. Also, the nearest trees seemed to be about two kilometres away, a smudge on the distant horizon. I was reminded of my recent stay in the Middle East. And I wasn’t even sure that they were trees. It could have been a mirage on a hot afternoon. The place felt like a tropical version of Siberia.
Besides, I don’t think the real estate agent was too impressed by me. He showed up for our meeting wearing a designer suit and Armani shades, in a luxury air-conditioned sedan. I showed up in a frayed T-shirt and shorts, on the back of the wife-to-be’s trusty, dusty, beat-up old scooter. No doubt, he was expecting a hotshot NRI (Non-Resident Indian) with loads of petrodollars to spare. Instead, he got me.
The apartment complex I saw in Kharadi consisted of about ten tall apartment buildings each of which was nine stories high. The complex was euphemistically named “___________ Gardens”. I do not want to be sued by the builder, hence the “___________”. On close observation (actually even a cursory one would have been sufficient), I saw that the “Gardens” bit in the name was a complete misnomer. It was hot in the middle of February, and the only vegetation that approximated a tree was a stunted shrub in the huge, dusty parking lot. The proposed “garden” so prominently displayed on the real estate hoardings was about the size of a large postage stamp. The shrub itself looked lonely and traumatized and my heart went out to it. So Kharadi was no longer in contention as the dream home for Yours Truly.
To cut a long story short, we settled on a house in the upscale, lively Kalyani-nagar suburb of Pune, home to globetrotting IT yuppies and Bollywood femme fatales (or so I am given to understand). Here I must acknowledge the decisiveness of the wife-to-be, because without her making the decision, I would never have bought the place. She is well aware of my tendency to dawdle and overanalyze. Suffice to say that we are the proud owners of a bright, airy apartment that is quiet, dust free and yet very conveniently located. I have already discovered all the good bars and restaurants in the area. Also, liquor stores here deliver intoxicants to your doorstep based on just a phone call, just like at home in Bombay! Verily, my cup of joy overfloweth (literally, on weekends).
There is a nice “joggers” park nearby complete with a running track and a laughing club consisting of slightly demented senior citizens. Apart from getting my daily dose of exercise which offsets my less-than-healthy lifestyle, I also learn a lot from my daily visits to the joggers’ park, thanks to the loud middle-aged ladies who also drop by every morning. I sit on a park bench after my workout and eavesdrop on their conversations about the best recipes for “choley” (chickpeas) and the benefits of “katora” (push-up) blouses for older women. Because of my ability to discreetly eavesdrop, I have become a lot wiser in the last few weeks. Needless to say, the wife-to-be frowns on this tendency of mine to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, but I do need my share of entertainment now, don’t I? I feel a smarter, better man for my eavesdropping. I often feel the urge to join these middle-aged housewives on their bench and contribute to their discussions (I am sure that my well thought-out views on push-up blouses and chickpea recipes are worth hearing), but I have been strongly dissuaded from doing this by the wife-to-be.
And now, finally, we will get to what you have been waiting impatiently to hear – why lawns are like dogs. You must remember that I was born and brought up in the city of Bombay (known now as Mumbai), which has one of the highest real estate prices in the world. Owning an apartment there in a nice neighbourhood is a luxury and beyond the means of even upper middle class people. Owning an apartment with a balcony (veranda) is unheard of. It is something reserved for movie stars and billionaire industrialists who have companies listed on the NASDAQ and New York Stock Exchange. Imagine then my excitement, when I found out that the fourth floor apartment I bought in Pune had a balcony that measured about two fifty square feet, open to the sky and overlooking a vast expanse of flowering trees as well as a working women’s hostel (very important, that last fact).
The inner gardener in me decided that a lawn on this big veranda would be appropriate, little knowing the consequences of this landmark decision. The lawn looks great, no two ways about it. But it has become the apple of the wife-to-be’s eye, much to my chagrin. Just the other day, she returned from a long day at work. I of course am unemployed at the moment, and was expecting her to tenderly ask me how my day went (at the moment, my days are spent washing dishes and making sure that the toilet bowls are spotlessly clean). Instead, the first question I was asked was whether I had watered the lawn that day. When I feebly protested that my hectic cooking and cleaning schedule for the day had not permitted me the time to do so, I got an earful.
Recently, I suggested that we get away to a nearby hill resort town for the weekend, considering that the monsoon is here and the weather is just about perfect. Her reply was instantaneous and final. “We cannot do that”, she said. “Who will water the lawn?” It is obvious that the lawn has replaced me in the wife-to-be’s affections. She is Lord Emsworth to my Angus McAllister (for those of you familiar with that beloved creation of humorist P.G. Wodehouse). I am resigned to my fate. I have come to the conclusion that lawns are like dogs. They require constant care and hog all the attention. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go. The lawn needs watering.
Why exactly, are lawns like dogs, you ask?? Let me start at the beginning. I spent the first few months of this year searching for an apartment in the Indian city of Pune, the self-professed education and information technology hub of India (and it is actually). Making the decision to move to Pune from Babylon-like Bombay was not an easy one, I assure you. Having made that decision, I spent a few hectic days in February, scouting out potential homes in Pune. My search started in the desert-like surroundings of Kharadi, a far-flung corner of Pune that the real estate agent optimistically told me was “within the boundaries of the Pune Municipal Corporation”. His words offered me little comfort. Kharadi turned out to be a sort of rural India setting, dusty and in the middle of nowhere. There is a futuristic Information Technology (IT) Park coming up there, but it will take about three years before the place becomes habitable. Also, the nearest trees seemed to be about two kilometres away, a smudge on the distant horizon. I was reminded of my recent stay in the Middle East. And I wasn’t even sure that they were trees. It could have been a mirage on a hot afternoon. The place felt like a tropical version of Siberia.
Besides, I don’t think the real estate agent was too impressed by me. He showed up for our meeting wearing a designer suit and Armani shades, in a luxury air-conditioned sedan. I showed up in a frayed T-shirt and shorts, on the back of the wife-to-be’s trusty, dusty, beat-up old scooter. No doubt, he was expecting a hotshot NRI (Non-Resident Indian) with loads of petrodollars to spare. Instead, he got me.
The apartment complex I saw in Kharadi consisted of about ten tall apartment buildings each of which was nine stories high. The complex was euphemistically named “___________ Gardens”. I do not want to be sued by the builder, hence the “___________”. On close observation (actually even a cursory one would have been sufficient), I saw that the “Gardens” bit in the name was a complete misnomer. It was hot in the middle of February, and the only vegetation that approximated a tree was a stunted shrub in the huge, dusty parking lot. The proposed “garden” so prominently displayed on the real estate hoardings was about the size of a large postage stamp. The shrub itself looked lonely and traumatized and my heart went out to it. So Kharadi was no longer in contention as the dream home for Yours Truly.
To cut a long story short, we settled on a house in the upscale, lively Kalyani-nagar suburb of Pune, home to globetrotting IT yuppies and Bollywood femme fatales (or so I am given to understand). Here I must acknowledge the decisiveness of the wife-to-be, because without her making the decision, I would never have bought the place. She is well aware of my tendency to dawdle and overanalyze. Suffice to say that we are the proud owners of a bright, airy apartment that is quiet, dust free and yet very conveniently located. I have already discovered all the good bars and restaurants in the area. Also, liquor stores here deliver intoxicants to your doorstep based on just a phone call, just like at home in Bombay! Verily, my cup of joy overfloweth (literally, on weekends).
There is a nice “joggers” park nearby complete with a running track and a laughing club consisting of slightly demented senior citizens. Apart from getting my daily dose of exercise which offsets my less-than-healthy lifestyle, I also learn a lot from my daily visits to the joggers’ park, thanks to the loud middle-aged ladies who also drop by every morning. I sit on a park bench after my workout and eavesdrop on their conversations about the best recipes for “choley” (chickpeas) and the benefits of “katora” (push-up) blouses for older women. Because of my ability to discreetly eavesdrop, I have become a lot wiser in the last few weeks. Needless to say, the wife-to-be frowns on this tendency of mine to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, but I do need my share of entertainment now, don’t I? I feel a smarter, better man for my eavesdropping. I often feel the urge to join these middle-aged housewives on their bench and contribute to their discussions (I am sure that my well thought-out views on push-up blouses and chickpea recipes are worth hearing), but I have been strongly dissuaded from doing this by the wife-to-be.
And now, finally, we will get to what you have been waiting impatiently to hear – why lawns are like dogs. You must remember that I was born and brought up in the city of Bombay (known now as Mumbai), which has one of the highest real estate prices in the world. Owning an apartment there in a nice neighbourhood is a luxury and beyond the means of even upper middle class people. Owning an apartment with a balcony (veranda) is unheard of. It is something reserved for movie stars and billionaire industrialists who have companies listed on the NASDAQ and New York Stock Exchange. Imagine then my excitement, when I found out that the fourth floor apartment I bought in Pune had a balcony that measured about two fifty square feet, open to the sky and overlooking a vast expanse of flowering trees as well as a working women’s hostel (very important, that last fact).
The inner gardener in me decided that a lawn on this big veranda would be appropriate, little knowing the consequences of this landmark decision. The lawn looks great, no two ways about it. But it has become the apple of the wife-to-be’s eye, much to my chagrin. Just the other day, she returned from a long day at work. I of course am unemployed at the moment, and was expecting her to tenderly ask me how my day went (at the moment, my days are spent washing dishes and making sure that the toilet bowls are spotlessly clean). Instead, the first question I was asked was whether I had watered the lawn that day. When I feebly protested that my hectic cooking and cleaning schedule for the day had not permitted me the time to do so, I got an earful.
Recently, I suggested that we get away to a nearby hill resort town for the weekend, considering that the monsoon is here and the weather is just about perfect. Her reply was instantaneous and final. “We cannot do that”, she said. “Who will water the lawn?” It is obvious that the lawn has replaced me in the wife-to-be’s affections. She is Lord Emsworth to my Angus McAllister (for those of you familiar with that beloved creation of humorist P.G. Wodehouse). I am resigned to my fate. I have come to the conclusion that lawns are like dogs. They require constant care and hog all the attention. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go. The lawn needs watering.
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