A Letter To My Father

Respected Father,

“The darkest places in Hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis” – Dante Alighieri

If Dante is to be believed then we Indians have been living in the shadows of a fake “Father”. You were the Mahatma; the “great soul”; then how did you remain notoriously silent during the most devastating instance of moral crisis in Indian history- the partition of 1947? 

You were the one who lambasted “moral weakness” as the worst ailment of mankind throughout your life, then why did your morality not cry out in anguish like thousands of other Indians then?

Whether, despite commanding immense respect from a population of million or more, you couldn’t or didn’t persuade Jinnah and Mountbatten to cancel the orders that prescribed the partition of India as a cure for her religious maladies, shall forever remain the most painful unanswered question that single handedly shaped the future of two nations. As two newly born nations tried to helplessly adjust to the rawness of religious turmoil , the blood of both Hindus and Muslims scalding the divided earth and the earth itself reeking of hatred , you chose this improper moment in history to respect silence as golden. As an Indian who was born exactly 47 years after this event, who still feels the cataclysmic reverberations of your silence in the pathetic existence of one brother amidst daily terrorist attacks, growing old amidst suicide bombers and drone attacks; of the other brother amidst religious atrocities and political scams, as an Indian denied the opportunity to see Wasim Akram and Sachin Tendulkar sing the same national anthem before ripping apart the cricketing world , as an Indian who thinks Jinnah would have been a better and more far-sighted Prime Minister , I ask you why ?

Perhaps you didn’t want the blood of a few rioters to stain your “great soul” and your khadi dhoti. Perhaps you feared speaking out would reduce your support base. Perhaps Nehru had been pulling the strings. Whatever the reasons your lack of ability or lack of desire in keeping India united showed and the signs were picked up by disappointed Hindus and Muslims alike , who in the absence of an able leader followed Darwin’s Laws of Survival to the t. This was definitely the moment when India needed the demigod that you were to stand up more than ever before and run a healing hand through the subcontinent which had been so brutally ripped into two. But you chose instead to fast. As a young boy confounded and pained alike by the decision more than 50 years later, I ask why?

You, my father, told all of us, your children, to not practice violence, not to fight fire with fire but instead to fast and actively protest against the cause of the fire while we allow the fire to rage on, allow it to burn us. Admirable teachings, indeed father which made the world gasp and take note and continue to charm many even today. As a confused son, I therefore ask of you this- when a rapist disrespects the dignity of my sister or any of my girl-friends, then should I push another into his path representing the other cheek, should I at that moment choose to calmly explain to him the depravity of his sinful act or should I proclaim that I will not consume any food because of what has happened?

You , father talked of principles and righteousness yet when a younger and more able leader won the Congress Presidential Election in 1939 you proclaimed it “more my loss than Bose’s victory” . Did such comments reflect the principles you treasured, the saintly image you projected or did it betray the very same and reek of jealously? Was refusing to work with the man who had the same dream as you once did, the best way forward for the nation desperately seeking direction? Was that the legacy you wanted to leave behind for young leaders wishing to emulate their “Father”?

You dreamt of an India, father that few dared to dream at that time. A dream that was later shared by many- a dream of an independent India that had her foundations in peace and Satyagraha. Indeed it was a brave dream, utopic some may call it but a dream nonetheless. But father, did you yourself lose sight of the ultimate aim when you suspended the Civil Disobedience Movement in light of the Chauri Chaura incident ? Did the dream of a “Gandhian India” supersede the dream of an “independent India”? Did you start relishing your dream while it was yet to be achieved, perhaps a little too ambitiously? Is this the legacy you wanted to leave behind – to destroy everything for one’s selfish needs? Is this what you wanted the future to inherit from you?

Your teachings of non-violence greatly influences me, father. It is only pride that fills my heart when the international press lauds your impact on the American Civil war and other world movements. When stories of your resilient march to Dandi to make salt in a non-violent betrayal of British laws are told in history classes even today, they make me feel proud. Yet father, as a confused child, I fail to understand how , you who sympathized with the downtrodden in society –the Harijans , you asked the Jews to submit themselves to the power of Hitler , to allow themselves to be slaughtered like sacrificial lambs at his foot to cleanse the human race ? How could you be so hypocritical and support this purgatory act of Hitler’s? 

My father, the reports of your alleged homosexual relationship with German bodybuilder Kallenbach doesn’t bother me .Neither do the stories of your sexual experiments with your nieces because I live in a world far more receptive of a human being’s sexuality than you did. It may be all rumours and news bites, all lies and tales but one can’t help but trust them considering the sources are the victims themselves. What, however does bother me is why you chose to hide all of this in your autobiography? Why do I have to hear all of this from someone else? Did you not trust your children enough to reveal the truth, “Truth” being the cornerstone of your life? You could have been the idol for thousands of people who faced humiliation in their workplaces in the coming years due to their sexualities. You could have been a beacon of light in the dark world of repressed sexualities. Yet, again, you chose silence father. You could have stood up for the truth but you didn’t. Why, father, why?

You are the closest thing to God that your “children” ever knew and yet you hid so much from them, betraying them in times of need. Was the need to be God so great that you forgot at times to be human? Was following your own principles so difficult, Father, that you yourself often betrayed them? Were you, Father, yourself a true Gandhian? Or did you like many others fall along the way to salvation as did the Pandava heroes on the way to theirs?

More than half a century has passed since you left us with the name of Ram (perhaps the most cynical God in Indian mythology) on your lips and yet you left so many questions unanswered. Sometimes I just wish for a human Father, o Mahatma, rather than a demigod one. Atleast he wouldn’t be, misanthropic of his nation and his children. Atleast he wouldn’t shroud himself in a cloak of lies and secrets. Sometimes we don’t need a God, we need a human being. Sometimes all one needs is the truth.

“Satyamev Jayate”

Yours truly,

A son.

Apocalypse Now

For all those students who have been pained in the past by the extremely tedious Environmental Education syllabi that our “Indian” education system served on an ill-planned platter, “Inferno” by Dan Brown comes a bit late. But as the adage goes “better late than never” and true to the adage, Brown drives home the point that the sophomoric environmentalists had been droning on and on about for the past few decades with surprising and ruthless clarity.

In a heady mix that could only have been brewed by the “master” of conspiracy theories and controversies, “Inferno” by Brown is an intoxicating cocktail of art, ancient history, world literature with more than a splash of the great Dante Alighieri, genetic engineering, biological advancements and one of the greatest and most serious conundrums faced by the world today. In fact through the adventures of the protagonist Robert Langdon, Brown manages to seamlessly merge the past with the present as well as the future, and at the same time stressing on the Armageddon that faces the human civilization.

As is characteristic of a Brown novel, “Inferno” too is set within a time span of 24 hours within which Langdon must beat the clock, locate and decipher codes which more often than not bear a connection with the works of Dante , decide whom to trust and whom to avoid all to save the human civilization from annihilation . Brown manages to capture the attention of the reader from the very first line of the story when Langdon wakes up from a slumber with his memory worth two days missing. The story hence keeps flitting between the past and the present as well as different locations, a branched narrative as is characteristic of a Brown novel. 

Set mainly in Florence, the story traces Langdon’s journey from the hospital bed in Florence with nothing but a groggy memory of a white-haired woman, a pile of dead bodies and the ominous Biblical phrase “Seek and ye shall find” to guide him to unearth the truth behind his missing past and decode the future with the help of Dr. Sienna Brookes. Langdon’s adventures take him on a fast-paced and edgy ride to old Florence, through churches and museums, to tombs and palaces all the while being inexplicably chased by an army which seems to be baying for his blood. In a narrative that could have gone horribly wrong, Brown admirably manages to stitch together all the acts of the drama without for once revealing the true intentions of the characters ensuring that the reader keeps on turning the pages. In fact, through the extensive and effective use of deceptive writing Brown lends an edge to the story that propels it from being an ordinary mystery story to a novel that manages to thrill, all the while not forgetting the message that is alarmingly made crystal clear through the story. 

The settings are immaculately and extensively well-researched and the descriptions of the various cathedrals and churches, tombs and mosques, piazzas and museums and all the small anecdotes associated with them lend credence to Brown’s fast growing reputation as a lover of the fine arts , In fact even the most ardent hater of school-taught History cannot help but feel impressed by Brown’s work.

However to think even for a moment that “Inferno” is all about history and Dante will be a huge mistake because intertwined with the past lies the future as is made clear by Dr. Bertrand Zobrist and all those who make the mistake of ignoring either are in grave danger of being engulfed by both. In fact genetic engineering and the advancements in the biological sector form a parallel, if not ‘the’, plot-line of the story. In fact the questions that Zobrist poses to Dr. Elizabeth Sinskey , director of the WHO , and hence to the reader deserve food for thought and definitely more importantly immediate and drastic action. The future that Brown paints in “Inferno” through the “eyes of death” is a scary one and indeed the novel transcends being just an adventure story to a commentary on the inability of human beings to control themselves , resulting in the earth turning into Dante’s Hell , as Zobrist puts it. The truth is hard to accept even when it is staring us in the face, Whatever Brown says in “Inferno” is nothing we don’t know yet but so far we were walking through a dark tunnel towards the light at the end of it but now the light at the end of it rushing towards us at breakneck speed as should the headlights of a train. The end is coming and it’s coming faster than anticipated and we can do little to stop it. But Brown’s message is very clear; our “little” might make a “huge” difference in the end….

“If not you , then who? If not now , then when?”

The Gentleman's Game

 Undoubtedly if you’re Indian, cricket is something that gets you to the TV screens as surely as a melodramatic Bollywood film and more importantly keeps you glued to it till it’s over. And why shouldn’t it? As Shashi Tharoor puts it, although cricket was brought to India by the British yet it is more inherently Indian than any other sport (for details read Tharoor’s “The Elephant, The Tiger & The Cellphone”) and indeed Indians took to it like a cat to milk that has culminated into 7 World cup successes (including 4 u-19 World Cups).

However notwithstanding the romanticism that the simple act of smashing a red sphere with a wooden plank into a crowd of people or hitting 3 wooden sticks down with a red sphere evokes, cricket has changed a lot from what it’s founders possibly envisioned. Watching a match featuring young Indian turk Virat Kohli or the slightly more experienced Gautam Gambhir is not too different from watching an expletive laden Tarantino movie with a generous sprinkling of references to mothers and sisters dominating the respective players’ mouths. In fact the use of fingers to alter the grips on the ball and hence spin or swing it is comparatively lesser than the use that “one of them” is regularly put to, to allow the tension building up throughout the body to escape miraculously through one raised finger aimed at the worthy opponents or in some cases even the paying spectators. 

Sledging is not new in cricket or for that matter in any other sports and without sledging the game would perhaps not be what it is today where winning the mental battles are as important as winning the physical battles but today sadly sledging today consists mainly of the rampant use of the four letter word beginning with ‘f’ and ending with ‘k’ (for those who still don’t get it, it’s not “fork”) and colourful Indian language that would make even Bollywood scriptwriters blush with shame. 

Now, agreed that on the cricket field during a cricket match, cricket should take centre stage but a little banter never hurts, does it? Or maybe it does …but breaking down the opponent mentally before destroying him physically is not an altogether bad idea in today’s extremely competitive world. And the fun lies in the fact that not always does it work, sometimes leading to a rather interesting repartee on the cricket field like this little gem from the great Sir Vivian Richards.

 In a county game against Glamorgan , Greg Thomas attempted to sledge him after he had played and missed at several balls in a row. He informed Richards,” It’s red, round and weighs about five ounces, in case you were wondering." Richards hammered the next delivery out of the cricket grounds and into a nearby river. Turning to the bowler, he commented, “Greg, you know what it looks like, now go and find it."

 

Sir Vivian Richards was a ruthless punisher of those who sledged him but that did not deter him from having a go himself!

 

To ease the pressure on himself, Gavaskar had decided to come lower down the order and bat at No. 4 for a 1978 Test match in Kolkata but Malcolm Marshall fired out Anshuman Gaekwad and Dilip Vengsarkar for ducks, setting the stage for Gavaskar to walk in at 0/2. Richards cheekily remarked, “Man, it don’t matter where you come in to bat, the score is still zero.” 

Although debate still rages as to the origin of sledging, yet one can be fairly sure that the Australians the one of the best exponents of this art, a factor definitely that played a major role in their rise to cricketing power in the 90s.One particular Australian who used his acerbic tongue to great use was Merv Hughes, known more for his moustache than his on-field exploits. His banter with English batsman Robin Smith during the 1989 Lords Test is now a part of cricketing lore.

Continually beating Smith’s bat during the match Hughes remarked “If you turn your bat over you’ll see the instructions on the back.” following it up with a more sedate, “You can’t bat.” after Smith had missed again. The next ball however Smith had his answer ready, both with bat and mouth. Hitting Hughes to the fence for a boundary, he wisecracked, “Hey Merv, we make a fine pair. I can’t bat and you can’t bowl’”

Another particularly vitrolic exchange took place during the 2001 Ashes between Mark Waugh and little known English batsman James Ormond. Upon his arrival at the crease during the match, Waugh had a go at the youngster, “….look who it is. Mate, what are you doing out here? There’s no way you’re good enough to play for England.” Without missing a beat, Ormond casually turned around and said, “Maybe not, but at least I’m the best player in my family”

This list of interesting exchanges between players who tried their best to replace brainless jocks as poster boys of sports through their wit cannot be complete without a final incident which marked the beginning of an enigma called Tendulkar. In an unofficial match against Pakistan, a 16-year old Sachin was constantly jeered and mocked by the Pakistani supporters with placards :”Hey kid, go home and drink milk’. Tendulkar in his inimitable fashion chose to answer with his bat as he sent Mustaq Ahmed hiding for cover hitting two sixes in one over. The legendary Abdul Qadir challenged Tendulkar, “Why are you hitting kids? Try and hit me” Silently, Tendulkar answered Qadir’s request with four sixes in the over. The over read 6, 0, 4, 6, 6, 6 by the time a legend was born.

Whether the answer is with the bat, the mouth or with mere actions (who can forget Dada removing his jersey and whirling it over his head with utter disdain on the balcony of the Mecca of cricket as an apt answer to Andrew Flintoff doing the same in Mumbai after scripting an incredible English victory!) repartee surely spices up the cricket. Unfortunately witty interactions between cricketers are virtually non-existent in today’s age and sadly sledging has been reduced to a much-maligned act after the Monkeygate incident.

Perhaps the Gentleman’s game has been corroded beyond recognition or maybe when winter’s here can spring be far behind? On that hopeful note, the cricketing world awaits another Merv Hughes or Sir Vivian Richards. Sadly, a Sachin Tendulkar it might never get again!