More Check, Less Balance?

Aside from the din of intolerance, and the disastrous Chennai rains, no channel will have time to cover a debate, which I feel has long term and significant impact on all of us.

On 26th November 2015, Bijayant 'Jay' Panda wrote an article, 'Less check, more balance: Reforms mustreduce Rajya Sabha’s power to block the popular mandate,unparalleled globally'. This opinion challenged the conventionally held power by the indirectly elected representatives of the Rajya Sabha, and asked for the reforms to come within. And cited several examples of how the upper houses in several other countries such as the UK, Italy reformed themselves for the greater good of the democracy and the country.

Mr. Panda also calls for a direct election of the members of Rajya Sabha if they believe their unbridled powers of veto (to put it loosely) are not to be questioned.

In response, what did Mr. Panda get in return? A 'privileged motion', by a few privileged members of the parliament. A privileged motion may raise questions on, guess what? A breach of privilege.

What is the 'breach of privilege', I am tempted to ask, if one voices the opinion on reforms? Shouldn't the reformation come from within? I firmly believe that the Rajya Sabha needs to be reformed for the greater good of the country, and have a blog post 'Does India Need Radical Constitutional Reform' on this topic.

If the democracy has to win, then a reform has to start...and sooner the better. Otherwise, we will be back to 1792, and our parliament will resemble a motley crew of the French nobility and the clergy!

Write India Contest - Story 1

Close to the city of Paithan, in a small village called Sauviragram, which lay along the banks of the great river Godavari, lived a woman named Ilaa. Being cotton farmers, her family was well to do, but not among the richest in their area. It was the harvest season, and cotton had to be picked from the plants. The wholesalers and traders from Paithan would be arriving in just a few weeks, carrying gold and goods for barter. They would exchange what they carried for the cotton that the farmers grew. The bales of cotton had to be ready in time! Work was at its peak!

But Ilaa was not to be found in the fields. She wasn't working. Instead, she was sitting by the banks of the great river Godavari.

'I am sick of this!' she grunted loudly. Deep in her thought, she sat firmly clasping her legs by her hands, her chin resting on her knees. She started sobbing uncontrollably, and this time, she let her tears roll by. After a spell of sobbing and sighing, she got up. Ilaa wiped her tears, turned around, and started walking straight ahead – resigned to her fate.

She entered a field, where some kunbis (workers) were still picking up the cotton. Some womenfolk looked at her with scorn. Ilaa didn’t care, and kept walking straight. She climbed on the wall at the edge of the field, continued walking straight till she saw a silhouette of the only one-storeyed house against the setting sun. This used to be Ilaa’s home, now only a place where she lived.

Suddenly, Ilaa turned left leaving the main road, and continued walking until she came to the backdoor of this large house in their small hamlet. Before she entered the house, she washed her hands and feet. An old woman had already started the preparations for dinner. The jowar-flour was being kneaded, the stove already burning the wood. A well-dressed woman sat on the floor dicing the brinjals and cutting the drumsticks, her bangles making the clinking sound every time her hands moved.

Old Goda-mai silently motioned Ilaa to join them. No sooner Ilaa sat down than Krishnabai threw the remaining vegetables towards her. The flames in her eyes did not hide her hatred towards the tonsured young one.

Two brothers, two Brahmins, Vedic chants, yagnas – in the uncertain days of loot, pillage and rape from the Sultanates of Ahmednagar, or Bijapur, people sought help from the heavenly gods, and what other better place than Paithan to perform the rituals? One day, Goonaji, and his brother Somashankar ran into the austere Eknath. Both the brothers considered it a bad omen. After all, feeding the Shudras, reciting the poems for the common folks, and tying it with the concept of Atman-and-Brahman, Dvaita-and-Advaita – Goonaji and Somashankar both felt was below the dignity of a pure Vedic Brahmin.

Younger Goonaji had one more skill – he was a Brahmin, who could as well have been a Kshatriya – a master at using swords, and riding horses. Goonaji decided to join the army of Malik Shah Ambar to end his penury. He was soon sent away to fight a battle. His bravery and good services earned him the robes of honor. He was given the mansab of a fertile village called Sauviragram near Paithan, and appointed as a Deshmukh, with a right to collect the taxes. Beaming with pride, Goonaji returned to a somber home. He felt uneasy. Tentatively, he knocked the door. A tired looking woman opened the door, startled to see Goonaji. Somashankar lay coughing in the corner, his two daughters sat beside him, worry written all over their faces. A little girl hid behind the woman.

Goonaji learnt that soon after he left home, tragedy had befallen – his wife was lost to an unknown disease, and now Somashankar had contracted the same. Somashankar had performed the last rites on Goonaji’s wife. Godavari – Somashankar’s wife – took in Goonaji’s daughter Ilaa under her care. Now Somashankar himself was battling for his life. Goonaji was stunned, grief-stricken….

Eventually, Somashankar passed away too. Goonaji decided to move to Sauviragram to take over the ‘deshmukhi’. He took the remaining family along with him. “Vahini, my Ilaa needs a motherly figure; she is so attached to you. I have a mansab. I will take care of the fields, you take care of the household” – Goonaji spoke with Godavari earnestly. The hapless, lonely lady did not have an alternative. Godavari became the ‘mai’ for Ilaa, and Goda-mai for the village.

No one spoke a word. The dinner was cooked, and the men of the house sat down for their meal – Goonaji, and his sons Balwant, Kulwant and Raghav. Krishnabai ate alone after the men of the family ate. Ilaa, and old Goda-mai now sat down for their meal – eating a stale ‘bhakari’ from the morning, and whatever morsels of the vegetable that were left. No one noticed a child that was already asleep in the corner of the kitchen but Ilaa. Saraswati was the only reason why Ilaa was even alive today.

Post dinner, Goonaji asked Balwant to bring in the records of that day’s farm work. Balwant, a mediocre immediately pointed out how Ilaa was not on the fields today, roaming around the banks of the river. Krishnabai also added a word to fuel the fire. She even considered the lower cotton output this year as a sign of Ilaa’s bad presence. Goonaji looked up, first at Balwant, then at Krishnabai; thoughtfully he went back to the record book.

“We go to Paithan tomorrow at sunup. Keep the horses ready. It is better we fix the rates for cotton before the traders in Paithan do. Kulwant, you will take charge of the farm tomorrow. Balwant and Raghav, you come with me.”

The father and the sons sat together tallying the records, and noting the wages to be paid to the kunbis.

Ilaa was distraught. She put down the ‘ghongadi’ (a coarse multipurpose blanket), and lay on it. Goda-mai took out her rosary and started whispering her prayers in the dimming lights. It was the first time in almost 18 hours that Ilaa’s body was at rest. Her mind was not. She was not ready to accept the changed circumstances. Goda-mai sensed that, and whispered, “God won’t be so hard on you my child.” Ilaa lay motionless and speechless – unconvinced of what Goda-mai had hoped.

Godavari’s thoughts went back to how the sands of time shifted –

Godavari was a brilliant woman, and just by listening to the chants of her father and husband, had understood many things about the Vedas. She could neither read nor write, but had come to understand Sanskrit well. She had surprised Somashankar a few times by asking tough questions. But after Somashankar’s death, she led a life of an ascetic.

True to his words, Goonaji had taken good care of Godavari and her daughters. He married the girls off in the neighboring villages, acting as their guardian. He established himself as the Deshmukh, and earned respect from the village elders for his just and care-giving attitude. He negotiated deftly with the rulers on taxes during the days of draught. The kunbis were ever ready to work in his fields.

One day, Goonaji returned home to find his relatives waiting for him. They wanted Goonaji to get married again. Goonaji agreed reluctantly. Soon Krishnabai took charge of the household. She started lording over the homestead staff, Godavari was relegated to the kitchen, and household duties. Krishnabai had bluntly reminded Godavari that she was an ‘ashrit’ (refugee) and should be careful lest she lose the roof over her head. Godavari took this rather stoically, and started spending most of her time in prayers.

Ilaa was up before the sun rose. She cleaned the kitchen, the courtyard, brought in the wood, and started the boiler to heat the bathing water. Before Goda-mai was up, Ilaa had made the breakfast and packed it for her father and brother. She then took the clothes and washed them over the moat, and got ready to go to the farms.

Today, Ilaa reached the farm on time – not giving Kulwant any reason to complain. She worked hard, she put the cotton in the bags, got it down to the weighing machine. She cleaned the channels on the west side of the farm, so that water could flow well in the irrigation system.

At the day end, all the kunbis gathered to find out their share, and the wages. But there was one unpaid worker who had worked hard – Ilaa. It was her father’s farm, so there was no question of the wages. Her social and familial status did not give her an opportunity to complain. Yet, she lingered around. Kulwant started weighing the cotton that was accumulated. His careful calculations turned out incorrect thrice. Even when Ilaa’s mental math was correct, she earned a disgraceful look from the village Mahajan. As a woman, she wouldn’t get any formal education. As a woman who survived her husband, she shouldn’t have any respect – thought the Mahajan. Even her shadow was impure.

Within years Krishnabai gave birth to three sons – Balwant, Kulwant and Raghav. The house now became ‘home’ with the kids playing in the courtyard. It kept both Godavari and Krishnabai busy through the day.

Ilaa grew up in Godavari’s tutelage. Ilaa heard many stories of the Vedas and Upanishadas from her Goda-mai, sometimes deriving Krishnabai’s contempt. Ilaa learned about how the ‘ahuti’ was taken by the ‘agni’ to the Gods; how Varun blessed the earth with rains, and bountiful crops. She learned about the complex observations of stars and constellations, how the rains in ‘Swati Nakshatra’ brought boon to the crops, and how the thunderstorms of ‘Hasta’ helped in water conservation.

Ilaa’s sharp mind picked up the contradictions quickly. If Yajnavalkya could take Maitreyee as his student, why you don’t have a guru, Goda-mai – Ilaa would ask! If Arundhati could argue and quiz Vashistha, why does mother not even look in father’s eyes while talking? Why did my brothers get to learn Vedas and liturgy, and I am even as much as prohibited to let the chants fall on my ears? Ilaa’s questions had no answers. She often cited contexts based on Goonaji’s liturgy. But Goonaji chose to avoid her rather than answer her questions. After all times had changed…. Ilaa was being introduced to the status of a woman in the society. And her step-mother ensured she was kept under the thumb.

As the shadows got longer, Ilaa started her walk back home. As was her habit now, she entered her house from the backdoor. The mere opportunity to cross her father and mother brought disgust in her mind. After all, she was dead to them…she was alive only because she wasn’t physically dead. Ilaa bathed, and wore clean clothes – today’s meal was to be offered to the moon and lord Ganesh. Her family fasted for the ‘chathurti’. Balwant sat in front of the homestead temple, and was chanting some mantras loudly. After his rituals were over, the men sat down to eat.

Today little Saraswati was awake, and hugged her mother warmly.  Goda-mai would now tell her the same stories that she did to Ilaa. But Saraswati’s childhood did not bring joy to the family.

Years went by. By now, Goonaji was a respected figure in the hamlet. As soon as Ilaa came of age, the Kulkarni family from the neighboring village came to ask her hand in marriage. Ilaa was married off with pomp, and started a new life. With her charm and good manners Ilaa brought joy to her new family, and earned their respect. At the same time Ilaa longed for a better understanding of the world. She wanted to learn the scriptures. She wanted to know why people followed Eknath, when her father thought that his message was considered contrary to what the Vedas said. And she questioned, did Eknath’s message even contradict, when so many other contradictions abounded the world.

But Ilaa was pushed into being a wife. Soon the news of Ilaa’s motherhood followed. Goonaji got his beloved daughter home for the delivery, and a little doll came into the world one rainy night. On the fifth day, goddess Pachavi was worshiped for the baby’s health and long life. On the twelfth day, the baby was named Saraswati. Ilaa hoped that this child will be a learned one like the goddess and bring her much joy. The gods had thundered their blessings the day Saraswati was born, but Niyati had something else in mind. A pandemic followed, and Ilaa lost her husband. Ilaa was devastated. With an infant barely a month old, she had nowhere to go….

What shocked her was how much her world changed. Her in-laws no longer wanted her back. Her parents now considered her a burden and a bad omen. They confined her to the backrooms of the home. She could no longer witness the rituals of Pooja or hear the Vedic chants. She could no longer speak with her friends or roam around playing on the banyan trees. Her clothes turned coarse, her head tonsured, her company avoided. Only Goda-mai seemed to understand what Ilaa was going through. The two luckless ladies spent much of their time in the menial household labor and helped with the farm activities. As years passed, Ilaa still couldn’t accept the vagaries of time. Her toddler grew up under the shadows of her misfortune and was prohibited from having any companions. Ilaa was now nothing more than a worker who need not be paid, or fed. The chatty and sharp Ilaa soon turned inwards – as if looking into an emptiness that knew no ends.

After the usual cleanup, and other household chores, Ilaa sat beside Goda-mai. Both the women stared at the clear sky from the benches in the backside courtyard. Ilaa seemed to seek some sort of answers, but couldn’t ask the questions. Goda-mai sensed her vacillation. 

“Tell me mai, who was Arundhati?” – Ilaa asked looking straight ahead, staring at the Saptarshi that rose on the western horizon.

The only woman to have attained ‘star-hood’, Arundhati was the devoted wife of the sage Vashistha. Her devotion, intelligence, and reverence had earned her a place among the seven respected sages of the Vedic times. She even guided the seven sages and brought them unique insights.

How the times had changed – today, an intelligent, sharp girl was confined to her house, not allowed education and considered a bad omen – for circumstances beyond her control. Both the women sat holding hands, comforting each other, as if waiting for their emancipation.

Write India Contest - Story 2

Ramesh couldn’t determine if he was awake or dreaming. His eyes were open, but the room was dark for him to see anything. A constant drip of water from the ceiling had filled in a tumbler near his bed and was overflowing, making the room wet. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the familiar room – a small metal almirah in the corner, a small makeshift kitchen in another corner, and an old ceiling fan. The dust and the cobwebs on the fan were adding to the misery of the colorless walls.

As he tried to get up, he almost fell down – his head was spinning, and his body was aching. He tried to make sense of what had happened last night. It was too late for a remorse – a bit too much of country liquor accompanied by a game of teen-patti, and a loss of a sum of almost 84 thousand rupees. Ramesh lay down in the bed again and dozed off.

The din created by the children returning from the school, outside his hutment finally awoke Ramesh. His body was still aching. This time he peered around the room more carefully, trying to place the time of the day. His stomach was growling with hunger. He got up from the bed, and walked a few steps towards the stove. A cup of tea had gotten cold by now, and a piece of pav that lay beside the cup had gotten hard. Without thinking Ramesh just shoved it in his throat and washed it down with the cold tea. With some food in his stomach, he once again tried to make sense of what had happened last night.

His employer had fired Ramesh from the carpentry assignment for showing up drunk at the factory. This was his third job in about a month’s time, and every time it was the same reason. Ramesh had fallen wayward, and drinking had become such an ingrained habit that time of the day did not matter. In a huff, he left for the adda and got into the drinking contest with his buddies. One thing led to another, and before Ramesh knew, he had wagered the money he never even imagined earning. But with consciousness returning, Ramesh realized the trouble he was in – he had lost money to the friend of a local goonda, and there would be a demand for the money sooner than later.

Ramesh sat down on the bed once again. He knew Sunita would bail him out this time also.

His and Sunita’s love story and marriage were nothing less than a Hindi film story. They both belonged to different castes, and the village was against their marriage. One day, on the pretext of going to her mama’s place, Sunita got out of her father’s home, and caught a train from her village. Ramesh joined her at the next station, and both fled to Varanasi, where they were married off in a temple. From there, both came to Mumbai, where Ramesh had worked earlier. Soon the two settled down in a small hutment in a slum, and started making a living. Ramesh became a carpenter laborer, and Sunita subsisted by working as a maid in the nearby plush colony. Putting her kids through good education was now her highest priority.

For Sunita what seemed dashing earlier soon turned out to be brash. Ramesh’s behavior was new to her. He seemed to have ‘bad’ habits of smoking, drinking and gambling. He had not only raised his voice while speaking with her, but also his hand multiple times. But Sunita had learned to at least save her kids from his wrath and managed to return a punch or two.

Ramesh went to the colony where Sunita worked. The watchman at the Blue Lagoon, a posh gated community of bungalows, was Ramesh’s friend. And he let Ramesh in. Sunita worked here as a maid, and he desperately wanted to speak with her. He went into a bungalow, but was scared to knock on the front door. He waited outside the garage for a driver to come out, and to pass his message to Sunita.

Rhea was returning after a busy day at the municipal school. She put her education in Psychology and Sociology to good use by working with kids in a nearby municipal school. She was happy that she was able to contribute to the society in some way. She was very well aware of the social conditions in the slums and the slum-kids. The fathers didn’t work, took pride in beating their wives; the mothers worked extra hard, tried to pay the fees, put the food on the plate, clothe the kids and family, and even supplied money to their husbands for alcohol.

When she saw Ramesh loitering around the gate, she realized that he may have wanted to speak with Sunita. She went in, and let Sunita know. Sunita was livid. Not realizing she was speaking with Rhea, she went into a diatribe listing all the wrong things Ramesh had been doing. Sunita then made tea, gave it to Rhea, cleaned the utensils and then stepped out. By now, Ramesh had lost his patience and Rhea could hear them quarrel outside of her gate. Ramesh demanded money, and Sunita flatly refused.

In that brawl, two more guys joined in. Thanks to the complicity of the watchman, almost all the goondas had an unbridled access to this gated community. What Ramesh feared soon turned true – the demand for money was swift and accompanied by mortal threat. Sunita got scared with the mere presence of the two rowdy looking guys. Hearing the noise, Rhea came out.

“Go in didi, these are really bad guys”, Sunita rushed to the gate, and spoke in a hushed voice with Rhea, fearing that an escalated matter might draw Rhea in it. Rhea pulled Sunita in, and asked her what happened. Sunita narrated the whole story of how Ramesh returned really drunk last night, beat her up asking for money, and has now come here making the same demand. However, what Sunita had not known last night was that this time she was up against the goondas and the threat was real.

Rhea thought for a moment, and started walking towards the quarreling guys, but Sunita stopped her. She was earnest- “Didi, please. These are really bad guys. They shouldn’t even see you. I don’t want you to land in any trouble.” Sunita pushed Rhea inside the house, trying to pull the door close. Rhea let her, as she knew Sunita only thought of her wellbeing. But Rhea was ready to defend Sunita, and kept a keen eye on the ongoing brawl.

After exchange of some heated words, the goondas left, leaving Sunita and Ramesh to sort out the matter. Ramesh was aggressive in his demeanor, and Sunita seemed defiant. Now Rhea came out to speak with the couple. Sunita gathered more courage and started arguing with Ramesh. Sunita knew that Ramesh won’t dare to hurt her in Rhea’s presence. But it seemed Ramesh was still under the influence, and did not heed to Rhea’s presence.

Rhea called both inside. Ramesh kept his demand for money up, and Sunita refused. She had had enough with Ramesh. To save some grace, she told Rhea that Ramesh and she will go up on the terrace and talk this out. Rhea took the hint, and stepped aside, letting them go to the terrace. ‘Let the couple sort it out’, she thought, even when she was upset about Ramesh getting physically aggressive with Sunita.

Ramesh and Sunita’s quarrel though was relentless, even if in hushed voices initially. But the tone soon changed, and Rhea could now hear every single word of abuse spoken against each other. And she heard a slap, and a scream…and a scream again.

Rhea now rushed to the terrace. Her heart leaped out of her mouth when she saw that Ramesh had drawn a knife and was aggressively charging towards Sunita. Aggressive Sunita too was ready to defend herself. Rhea ran towards the fighting couple trying to stop the aggression, but the knife brushed against Sunita’s stomach, and Sunita fell down wincing in pain. This angered Rhea tremendously, and she clasped Ramesh’s hand firmly, as if trying to get him to drop the knife. Her karate education in her school days helped her tackle this man. In fury, she twisted Ramesh’s arm with such might that unbeknownst to her the knife cracked his ribs in the back and entered into his guts!

Ramesh screamed and fell on the ground. “What happened didi, what happened?” Sunita screamed too and fainted. Rhea was in a shock, almost spell bound, and sat down on the floor. Ramesh lay motionless near the wall, blood dripping all over him.

Although shivering from shock, Rhea tried to remain calm and composed. She assessed the situation. That the knife fell down meant it probably did not make a deep impact. But how did the knife that belonged to the kitchen downstairs made it up to the terrace? Did Ramesh plan this, or was it Sunita? Rhea’s logical mind tried to find an answer. But in the scheme of things she was now the aggressor. It was important to deal with the matter.

Calmly and carefully Rhea picked up the knife with the help of her blue scarf and walked down. She got on her scooty, and got out of the colony, speeding past the corner. She was headed towards the police station. However, instead she went ahead and parked outside the mall that was a favorite hangout of her friends. She walked-in hoping that her friend, philosopher, guide and much more, Amit would be there, but she did not find any familiar faces. She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out the next steps. She reached out to her handbag and searched for her mobile. But in her rush of stepping out, she had forgotten her phone at home. She now really hoped that Amit walked in any moment, and helped her out.

She started thinking about what she should do. It wasn’t that she was going to hide anything, but she didn’t know in whom to trust and confide what happened. Would anyone believe her? Would the police believe in her? Would she be in the jail? Would they hang her? Oh my god…what just happened here? What about her friends? What will they say? What will her parents do once they come to know? And her grandma…she would be so sad. Her eyes turned misty, and brows frowned. But Rhea gathered herself once again. She wasn’t going to let the situation defeat her. She finished her coffee, and got up, although she didn’t know where she was going next. As she started to walk, Amit came in! This was god send, Rhea thought. She wanted to hug him, and let her aggravation out, tell him everything, and scream for help.  But she could do none of that.

She went back to the table, and motioned Amit there. Seeing an empty cup of coffee on the table, he gestured if she wanted one more. Rhea nodded her head in a no. Amit got himself a cup, and sat down, raising his hand in a high-five. Rhea did not return the favor. “What’s shakin’ bakin’?” Amit said in his usual bubbly manner, and suddenly realized something was gravely wrong. Rhea never looked so ashen faced. ‘What’s the matter?’ was the unspoken question, and Rhea nodded meaning to say – ‘Yes, I’ll tell you everything.’

Rhea then poured her heart out to Amit, telling him everything from start to end. Amit’s brows dropped. He didn’t know what to say or do. His mind was racing, as if turning the pages of a phone book mentally to find out who he can call for help.

In the meanwhile, Sunita regained her consciousness. She called out, first for Rhea, and then for Ramesh. Rhea was nowhere to be found. Ramesh was motionless, but breathing. Sunita heard the noise of the scooty, and soon two figures walked onto the terrace – Rhea and Amit had returned. Rhea checked if Sunita was all right. Then they went to Ramesh. He was breathing, trying to move, but was in pain. Even in that pain he scorned at Rhea’s helping hand. By now Sunita had started to make sense of what had happened. She got up and looked at Ramesh; the anger in her expression was very visible. Amit tried to help Ramesh sit up, but Ramesh scoffed at him and pushed him aside.

“Die you son of a bitch”, Sunita suddenly shouted at Ramesh, “Is it not enough that you get drunk, beat me, beat the children. And now you have lost the money too. You send goons after me? Where do I get the money for you, huh?” And suddenly she charged at Ramesh, and kicked him. Ramesh shouted in pain. Rhea rushed to hold Sunita back.

“Didi, don’t stop me – I am going to kill this bastard”, heaved Sunita. “He loses money on gambling – how am I going to feed the kids if I have to take care of his gambling too. What if they come and harm my little girls? Doesn’t he understand his responsibilities? He is prompt in making demands for money, but he doesn’t earn any. Has he ever checked if there is enough food at home? I didn’t fall because of his knife Didi; I haven’t had a morsel of food since this morning. But what does he care. After all it is my naseeb” – Sunita spoke till she was breathless.

Sunita then remembered something. “Where is that knife, Didi?” she whispered to Rhea, “I don’t want anyone to see it.” Then she looked at Amit suspiciously, and looked at Rhea, as if asking Rhea to hand over that knife. Her eyes gave away her desire to finish the unfinished task.

Sunita was not done yet, and she went on with her tirade until Rhea managed to get Sunita’s attention – she shook Sunita holding her shoulders.

Ramesh had managed to sit up by now. “He has no place in my life anymore, Didi”, she told Rhea sternly. “Get out Ramesh, get out before I kill you”, Sunita shouted. Ramesh was stunned, but refused to take a cue from Sunita’s demeanor. He still tried to charge at her…this time Amit managed to stop him, and led him out.

Sunita turned to Rhea, “Didi, I moved my home to another basti yesterday. Good riddance from that bastard.”

Ramesh returned to find an empty house and the waiting goondas….

Paach Saal Kejriwal

I had written this in the December of 2013, but never published. A lot of water has flown under the bridge since then...but some questions are worth pondering. Congratulations, Kejriwal!

Two years ago when Anna Hazare started the unprecedented movement on the Lokpal Bill, it shook the political class. However, Anna put a fight by staying outside of the framework of the constitution. He asked government what to do, and what he wanted. When political aspirations bubbled up, there was a vertical split in Anna's team. It was an interesting event. Many a leaders in India have preferred to stay outside of the ambit of the constitution, namely Bal Thackeray and even Mahatma Gandhi.

If you want to change the system, do you do it by being a part of the system or do you dictate it by being outside of the system? Quite a conundrum.

Kejriwal and Anna may have taken different paths, but Kejriwal made it clear, that if he wanted to change the system, he was going to do so by being a part of the system. Events lead to an intriguing name to the party, but it was unclear what would the party do for people. In his early days, Kejriwal only resorted to mudslinging and unproved, unprovoked charges against the who's who, once again shaking the political class.

The political class needed a shake up indeed. And Kejriwal once again proved that he could, by accounting for every penny that came as donation to his political party.

What happened after elections is unprecedented though.

In a Westminster style democracy, the ruling party needs simple majority to form the government. No one in Delhi got it. Because of the circumstances, no one wanted to stake the claim and naturally, Kejriwal was mocked for being short of majority!

What Kejriwal did after that is amusing though. He went back to people with a referendum like approach. When he got the so-called green signal, how did it change the need to have simple majority in the legislature? Well, it did not. Kejriwal's government is still at a mercy of a confidence motion and therefore Congress party. What happens after the 2014 general elections is anybody's guess.

Speaking of governance, Kejriwal seems to support strong socialistic principles. What logic is used in halving the power tariff? Kejriwal needs to logically explain this. Why promise free water, when the real need is actually equitable distribution and curtailing wastage. What are Kejriwal's views on the latter?

While the above two at least adhere to socialistic principles, what about the regularization of the unauthorized colonies? Isn't it like lapping up to the builder lobby and creating a vote bank among the squatters? It is also directly condoning the erring officers who let the unauthorized buildings come up and did not remove squatters in time before they became either a problem or a vote bank.

More unanswered questions: If Kejriwal intends to install a referendum based democracy, how does he plan to do it? It is not only the technology usage, but the constitutionality of the exercise that is in question. Mohalla Sabha is fine, but who defines the accountability there? And if everything is going to be referendum based, do we do away with the legislature?

Unlike the UK, India does not follow a system of shadow cabinet. Hence, it was not necessary that Kejriwal actually become the chief minister. However, that is one question, Kejriwal did not ask in a referendum. He did not ask a similar question about who else will/should be the minister in his cabinet. So much about referendums and direct democracy!

Kejriwal's plan for rooting out the corruption is also not clear. But among the pall of gloom and despair, Kejriwal has brought a glimmer of hope. Here are some of the things people can ask be changed:

1. Information on donations to political parties be available in public domain.
2. Also, bring the political parties under financial accountability similar to the companies law.
3. No special privileges to members of parliament or legislature or ministers in terms of red beacons, free accommodation, free phone calls etc.
4. Income Tax returns of every elected member and his/her immediate family be available in public domain. And last but not the least,
5. The bureaucracy is as much responsible for corruption as the political class. Hence any privileges or facilities that they enjoy need to be reviewed as well.

But coming back to Kejriwal, will he survive after the general elections of 2014? And will he be able to do what he wants, for the lack of majority and the clutches of Congress support? If his experiment with governance does not work, then the larger political parties will only take advantage of his failures and deprive the common man any respite politically.

After Kejriwal succeeds, at the end of his term though, he will have changed the political class, and India's polity forever.

The Real Obama Visit

Although you may have seen pictures and live-telecast of Obama in Delhi on Tuesday, it was the body-double of Obama at his best. The ‘real’ Obama secretly traveled to Pune. His day passed along in an uneventful manner, while he accomplished a lot of things.

To begin with, he woke up early in the morning, wore a sweater, monkey cap, hand gloves, Adidas shoes and went for a hike on Vetal Tekdi. Michelle particularly took care of wearing a fake diamond necklace, fake earrings, and glass bangles lest they run into a chain snatcher. This was their special tribute to the 'common man'.

At 8 AM, the Obamas stopped by at Vaishali Restaurant for a hearty breakfast. At 9:30, they were still seen loitering around Vaishali Restaurant and FC Road.

At 10 AM, Obama’s entourage arrived at the University Circle to see the engineering marvel that is the University flyover. He minutely observed the traffic (mis)management as the Pune Traffic Commissioner proudly showed him the dug up road, broken footpath and nonworking traffic lights. His awe was evident as he asked the mayor of Washington DC to study the traffic patterns and the role the pillars played in diversion of the cars, and instructed him to implement something similar in DC.

This was followed by a meeting with the Road and Footpath Diggers association, and the BRTS coordinator. He was particularly impressed by the BRTS coordinator, and immediately offered him a position in New York City to implement the system there.

At 12 noon, the Obamas had lunch at Durvankur Dinning Hall. They were eligible for a Rs. 20/- off, for polishing off the plate clean.

At 1 PM, Obama took a nap. The secret service hung a sign ‘dukaan band ahey’ outside his suite.

At 4 PM, Obama had a meeting with the Municipal Commissioner and workers in-charge of waste management. He was presented with samples of a few poisonous fumes coming from the burning of the inorganic waste. He also inspected a few samples of contaminated water. He felt proud about how the neighboring villagers suffered stoically for Pune.

At 5 PM, Barack took Michelle shopping on Laxmi Road. He deftly avoided the traffic jam by crossing the Lakdi pul on a two-wheeler, and then going in the wrong direction on Laxmi Road. This also allowed the secret service a much needed break, as they were told by reliable sources that the terrorists would not be able to spot him differently from all other two wheelers traveling in the wrong direction.

He bought some bakarwadi and amba-barfi for his daughters. He was denied a plastic carry bag, and was derided for asking for one.

At 6 PM, the Obamas were seen taking a stroll in the Pu La Deshpande garden.

Before leaving Pune, Obama went to Kayani Bakery to buy some Shrewberry Biscuits, but was refused, as he asked for one packet too many.

That, on a lighter note, for you folks was a rundown of Obama’s day in Pune.