The Slap and the plight of the common man

It isn’t common for me to travel often and I am always apprehensive of the travel for various reasons. But yesterday, I found myself in Mumbai for a quick meeting and was supposed to return the same afternoon on what was an otherwise uneventful day.

We finished our meeting, and the prospect extended the courtesy of hosting lunch. Full tummy, we started our journey back, with the driver taking the term “push the pedal” far too seriously. While passing through one of the sleepy hollows of Mumbai traffic, one of my colleagues quipped, “Sharad Pawar ko kisine thappad mara” and shoved the mobile phone ahead. Thinking it was one of the multiple jokes that float around on the SMS, I read and ignored – it literally said that a Punjabi has slapped Sharad Pawar, watch any news channel!

Nothing happened for a long time other than the conversation dying down and people trying to catch up their sleep. Then the car came to a screeching halt near the first toll booth on the expressway and everything came to a standstill. The booth had been shut down as a mark of protest, because their leader Sharad Pawar was slapped by some maniac. People were walking on the sun baked asphalt of the expressway; some were seen pleading the booth attendants and some were waving flags – showing others they were in control here.

As the luck may have it, the Commissioner of Police of Pune, Ms. Meera Borwankar was also stuck in this traffic jam, a few cars behind ours. Ms. Borwankar chose to sit in the AC comfort of her car as folks were standing helplessly on the expressway. A make-shift chaiwala was making the most of the situation by serving tea to the aggrieved passengers. A well-dressed man walked up to us and asked what happened. I told him in exactly the same words as the SMS. What has happened to this country, he quipped, we all shrugged shoulders and he went back to the comfort of his SUV. A Caucasian was seen taking pictures and making video of the scene on the expressway. A man dressed in white shirt and white pants was seen walking towards the toll booth. He must be some big shot politically, people said in hushed tones. But there wasn’t any movement. Finally a few police vans arrived and everyone started returning to the cars hurriedly. The expressway had been opened after having been stalled for more than half-an-hour.

The telecom revolution means instant spread of information – we saw Sharad Pawar being hit, thanks to the power of 3G. We spoke to family members asking them to be careful and we also heard that Pune has erupted in riots! Our driver had by now gotten very anxious of reaching home and started speculating if the roads will be open! A few places on the bypass were blocked because folks who took umbrage to the whole situation were burning tires. Apparently, a bus had been burnt near Swargate and one on SB Road! Rumors flew around like houseflies.

So, Sharad Pawar had finally had his day! The bigger question is what was achieved by stalling the expressway and burning a few tires?

India is unlikely to erupt into any kind of revolution – the Arab spring itself has turned into autumn and the candle light vigil for Anna will evaporate as soon as the candle is burnt. But the political class needs to understand that there is a high-level of distrust and subdued anger in people’s mind about them. While the slap may be a laughable incident, even more laughable is the reaction. As if the current expenditure is not enough, politicians are now making statements such as a review of the security apparatus is necessary. While the security might be a concern, building ivory towers is hardly a solution.

The real question to as is: Is anyone up for the challenge of solving the real problem? Is anyone from the political class up for a deep introspection?

The Grinch who Stole my Friends

Moving from a cocooned small town childhood and stepping into the unknowns of the hostel life was a big change for me. One of the limitations of this change was you couldn't take your family or friends along. But it was a time when we would write letters - the typical light blue, inland letter by Indian Postal Services. At a mere 35 paise, you could reach any corner of India, and if you didn't have much to say, a 15 paise post card would suffice. If you had a lot of things to say, then a Re. 1 book post; where you owned the envelope, paper, ink, and the address, the postal service gave a mug-shot of Gandhiji in return to be stuck, only right side up on the corner of the envelope, was the way!

Letters were soon replaced by e-mails and taking or changing jobs depended, for a while, on which companies in SEEPZ provided e-mail addresses to the lowly software engineers. But the likes of Shabir Bhatia and Jerry Yang and David Filo provided with the free e-mail addresses of your choice. You didn't need ink, no paper, no postal stamp. And for those who were keyboard-happy, all the space you could need. Most importantly, it crossed time zones at the speed of light - or - as fast as the servers could relay.

Yours truly once owned an e-mail address that ended with webtv.net and even a cryptic one, beginning with c9614084 (if you can interpret what that means, pause and say thanks to NCST!)

E-mail soon became passe. It was meant for official purposes and for sending design and reviewing plans and forwarding jokes. It was not meant for broadcasting. Web-log, ostentatiously shortened as "blog" was the way. And when you had enough of the blogs, there was the twitter, that though limited to 140 characters, allowed you tell the world you were constipated. And trying. And still trying. And still trying. Keeping in touch meant you commented or followed someone.

But I did not realize when subtlety hit me on the forehead. My "yours truly" implored me to get on to Orkut, and I felt younger. After all, whether-beaten older folks were not invited to the party! I logged on to Orkut once after signing on. And then, people said Orkut had lost its shine. "You should be on Facebook". "What, that might mean, parental consent - your are pushing me back in time!" - was my running joke!

When Google+ came and threatened to overtake Zuckerberg's billion plus empire, I was still stuck somewhere in the old times.

I didn't see many photos because people uploaded those on Facebook but neglected taking trouble to e-mail me. I didn't know about current happenings in my friends' lives because I didn't get to read their walls. I didn't know of the Ganapati festival in my own area because I was not on Facebook and more importantly, I didn't own a wall. But this time, multiple people called, wrote e-mails and even knocked on the doors - get on Facebook they said in unison. Some remembered me for my absence. And some wondered how I will join the college reunion if I were not to be on Facebook. This Grinch, stole all my friends just because I was stuck in the twentieth century.

So, Facebook, I acquiesce to thy power and here I come!

I am now (always) on Facebook.