I AND MY WORDS

Yesterday, the Bruhat Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike (BBMP), the municipal body of Bengaluru, uploaded a document that was submitted by an expert committee to the Honourable Karnataka High Court on the issue of garbage (mis)management in the city. A good look at the document shows all that is wrong with the manner in which local governance takes place in India. It is ironic that at the very beginning of this document the committee notes that the garbage disposal issue has in recent times become an issue of grave concern. What it conveniently ignores (though it is not their mandate) that while this issue was growing in menacing proportions, the councillors of BBMP, cutting across party lines, were busy fighting with Vijay Mallya, Anil Kumble, Karnataka Cricket Association (KCA) and the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) for free passes for IPL matches taking place in Bengaluru. Even as you scan across the document, you see how confused and muddled the issue is, with the exp...

A popular joke has been doing the rounds across India’s digital circles, harking the return of the 1990s. After all, Sanjay Dutt is in jail, Madhuri Dixit is on the big screen and Murthy is again heading Infosys among other things. However, what is not a joke is the induction of Rohan Murthy, N R Narayana Murthy’s son, as an executive assistant to Mr. Murthy, even if he gets paid only Re.1. Infosys had a difficult gestation, but it saw through that tide of difficulties in the License Raj. The nascent steps towards India’s economic liberalization two decades ago meant that companies that had talent driving them all of a sudden discover opportunities never seen or heard of before. All of a sudden, merit, and not proximity to the corridors of power, mattered in succeeding in business in India. All of a sudden, it was big business that was eating the humble pie for refusing to acknowledge talent when it needed it the most. In the Indian business scenario, there have been only Goli...

The world has betrayed Syria. Even as the Syrian conflict has entered its third year, the world is silent. While ordinary people like Abdul Karim Hamdan, a refugee from Aleppo, a city still witness to the worst fighting, sings odes to his motherland , the world refuses to even come down to the discussion table and talk about Syria. More than two million Syrians today, Christians, Sunnis, Shias and Alawites, are living the life of refugees in Turkey and Jordan among other places, but we have still failed to solve a crisis, making it worse by the day. The Arab world was swept over by the Arab Spring Fever like all spring fevers do. A rash of people spread across the streets, and the world stared, wondering, as dictator after dictator fell in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya. However, the euphoria was short lived, as several other governments brutally cracked down, pretty much silencing any voice of dissent. Millions of Syrians came out on the street against Bashar-al-Assad in the n...

You there! What you mean to say When you spin around That bowl of clay? Are you looking at me Trying to reach out to me? Sounds do not come my way So just mime it out today What? Are you hungry? Come! let us eat merry Let us enjoy this day today Like there will be no other day Why? Are you scared of something? Is it me? Or a discriminatory feeling? Your silent face haunts me all day While anything I speak pulls no weight Why do you walk away? Am I of no interest to you? Wait! Let me come your way Who knows, what it leads to? Huh! You say it is difficult? So what; it ain't so; Anyway I walked alone a hundred miles Maybe I'll learn from this first step today.

Standing there she was looking at the procession following the leading lady of the new movie that had been released. The people were going berserk, and jostling to spot her, to catch a glimpse of her, as if it were a matter of life or death. She was standing on the footpath across the road that divided her and the other side next to the mall, which was chock-a-bloc of people. Her memory flashed back to the time several years ago, when she was entering the Minolta Theater that stood across the road at the same spot that this mall now was. She was being mobbed. People were falling over each other to see her make a turn, clearly demonstrating a sense of fanaticism not seen since the riots that had happened two years ago. She waved her hand, and men swooned around her posse of security that seemed to be facing the gravest threats of breach. Her beautiful chiffon saree was pink in colour, and flowed like water in the eyes of the fans, as the slight breeze that night played around w...

मेरे महबूब का जनाज़ा आज फ़िर निकला है उन्ही कूचो उन्ही दरवाज़ों से आज फ़िर गुज़रा है वही मातम-ए-ग़म आज फ़िर फिज़ा में है वही रंजिश, वही उदासी आज फ़िर आँखों में है फ़िर उस सीने पे वार आज मेरे दुश्मन का है फ़िर दिल में सिस्कियां आज मेरे हिस्से में हैं मेरे महबूब की किस्मत में  जाने क्या लिखा है के यूँ बारामबार वो बेआबरू हो रहा है  मेरे महबूब का जनाज़ा आज फ़िर निकला है उन्ही कूचो उन्ही दरवाज़ों से आज फ़िर गुज़रा है