Bichu Muttathara
EXPRESS YOUR VIEWS.....LET THE WORLD EXPRESS ITS
Friday, July 13, 2012
Dara Singh
Urine Therapy
The allegation that the Class V student of Patha Bhavan school was forced to lick urine for bed-wetting is atrocious to say the least. The warden’s logic to the distraught mother that licking urine from the wet bed-sheet was the only treatment to stop her ‘bad habit’ betrays logic. This warden can even defeat the notorious character of Bumble the beadle from Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist in cruelty and “imagination”. However, the moot point is that most of the hostels in the country may be in the hands of such warden who are ill-equipped to look after the genuine needs of the inmates as well the hostels. Most of the Wardens demonstrate proforma disdain for the system or a criminal bend of mind in harassing the inmates. The government must not only order a high level inquiry into the matte but also implement remedial measures with a sincerity of purpose. In the meantime all the matrons or the rectors must be subjected to suitable psychological tests and aptitude test to assess their suitability for the sensitive job. Those found not conforming to the job profile must be shown pink-slip or re-settled to some other sinecure. The policy-makers should remember well that hostels are home away from homes for the inmates where their personality also made or marred depending upon their environments. So, the Shantiniketan shocker should serve both as an awakening call as well as an opportunity to cleanse the system.
Saturday, June 09, 2012
Doctor, Cure Yourself.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Parliamentary Logjam
It is unfortunate that the logjam in Parliament evades a solution as the contentious issues keep on piling up even as the ruling parties and the opposition parties choose not to break the logjam and make a mockery out of the parliamentary democracy. That the civil society members successfully held the entire Parliament to ransom recently appears to have been forgotten. The opposition parties seeking to further muddy the knotty national issues cannot absolve its responsibility for the governance deficit. Instead of cornering the government through participative parliamentary debate, the opposition finds it expedient to paralyse the functioning of the house, which is more suitable for the government as it can escape healthy debates on the vexed issues and escape the responsibility as well as pass important bills post haste without healthy debate. The statistics on the functioning of the present 15th Loksabha is far from inspiring for which both the ruling and the opposition parties are to be blamed. It has already earned the dubious distinction of having functioned the lowest ever for a house. It is true that ever since the 8th Term the constructive utilization of Parliamentary time has been on the slide. Uninspiringly, so far, out of the 1110 hours the 15th Loksabha sadly utilized only 798 hrs and 39 Minutes, making it only 72% quality utilsation of its time. As per the reports, even the politically daunting Bofors controversy did not result in wastage of as much time of the Parliament. What is perplexing is that out of the cumulative 200 Bills only 57 could be passed, for which hardly any meaningful discussion took place. Strangely, the 15th Loksabha will have the dubious distinction of facing the wrath of the ruling party MPs who sought to disrupted the functioning of the august house. The senior leaders of all sides must immediately bury the political differences and work towards a consensus on the healthy functioning of the 15th Parliament sooner rather than later.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
A Sandal Wood Tree
Chandan is his name – for which I always had a regrettable pathological absentmindedness, calling him Kishan in a typical Freudian slip of tongue.
The modest guy used to correct my Freudian slip, saying “I am Chandan.”
After my repeated failures to address my Freudian slip, I changed his name from Chandan to Sandal, taking a cue from text-book Memory Techniques.
To my absolute surprise, the technique worked wonders and my monumental Freudian slip never displayed any concern to revisit me.
Both were happy at the arrangement which would have made Dale Carnegie swirl in his coffin.
I must admit that he is like any other commonplace young man.
I can vouchsafe that he is not an angry young man, but joyful.
I also observed that he is always filled with compassion and humanity—two commodities readily not available in the society, especially among the young men and women swayed by materialistic aspirations.
A thin, fair complexioned youth, his frail body would slightly bent forward as if to tell you that he is either weighed down by the weight of his head or his weak neck is not able to bear the load of the head.
Thoroughly dedicated, I know Chandan as ready to take up any mission from his boss.
Though an employee at the lowest rung of the hierarchy, he draws a decent a salary that would put even call centre workers to shame.
One day he appeared to me in my cabin in search of me, saying that he had already called me upon earlier in the day, but could not “catch” me.
I noticed that he was holding a bunch of invitation cards in his fair, slender, left hand along with a few dak (mail) obviously meant for distribution.
On the other slender hand was a slim pen.
Extending one of the invitation cards to me, he announced that he was getting married, for better or ….
I was elated and honoured simultaneously at the invitation.
It is a routine affair that every now and then someone would drop in to invite me for the marriage of himself, herself or someone else.
AS usual, I accepted the invitation with a glee and exchanged some platitudes with him, which was usual whenever we used to meet somewhere in the office or when he was on his way to distribute dak and I rushing nowhere to demonstrate the world that I was busy with work.
After his departure, I carelessly put the card beside my whirring Computer and returned to my brown files.
As usual I decided against attending the marriage due to… my lethargy and claustrophobia.
Casually, at the end of the day before winding up the day, I fished out the Invitation card from among the heap of brown files – wanted and more wanted ones- and lazily went through the attractive calligraphy in ivory paper.
Two lines below the bride’s name attracted me and made me review my earlier post-haste decision to avoid attending Kishan’s nay Chandan’s Marriage.
I rubbed my already impatient eyes and read the lines in calligraphy below the name of the Chandan’s bride again.
I could not believe my eyes.
The serendipitous reading overruled my own resolution to stay away from the crowd that would assemble in the marriage hall.
Along with his obliging boss, I attended the marriage in the small but imposing Parish Hall.
The marriage solemnised in a dignified manner.
The motley crowd that attended the marriage and blessed the lovely couple appeared to me like a huge herd of believers attending a mammoth Prayer Meeting, assembled to celebrate the return of compassion and humanity.
The marriage feast tasted the best in the world.
The ambience refused to fade out of my diminutive mind.
While returning in the SUV along with his obliging boss and others my mind was intrigued by a question – a more defiant question evading a reasonable answer “Why did the young man choose to marry from Ahmednagar Orphanage while a person in his situation would certainly have opted to marry from a rich family to inherit wealth from in-laws, which is the order of the day?”
Then that is our Chandan – a Sandal Wood Tree in the dense forest of selfishness and self-aggrandisement.
The modest guy used to correct my Freudian slip, saying “I am Chandan.”
After my repeated failures to address my Freudian slip, I changed his name from Chandan to Sandal, taking a cue from text-book Memory Techniques.
To my absolute surprise, the technique worked wonders and my monumental Freudian slip never displayed any concern to revisit me.
Both were happy at the arrangement which would have made Dale Carnegie swirl in his coffin.
I must admit that he is like any other commonplace young man.
I can vouchsafe that he is not an angry young man, but joyful.
I also observed that he is always filled with compassion and humanity—two commodities readily not available in the society, especially among the young men and women swayed by materialistic aspirations.
A thin, fair complexioned youth, his frail body would slightly bent forward as if to tell you that he is either weighed down by the weight of his head or his weak neck is not able to bear the load of the head.
Thoroughly dedicated, I know Chandan as ready to take up any mission from his boss.
Though an employee at the lowest rung of the hierarchy, he draws a decent a salary that would put even call centre workers to shame.
One day he appeared to me in my cabin in search of me, saying that he had already called me upon earlier in the day, but could not “catch” me.
I noticed that he was holding a bunch of invitation cards in his fair, slender, left hand along with a few dak (mail) obviously meant for distribution.
On the other slender hand was a slim pen.
Extending one of the invitation cards to me, he announced that he was getting married, for better or ….
I was elated and honoured simultaneously at the invitation.
It is a routine affair that every now and then someone would drop in to invite me for the marriage of himself, herself or someone else.
AS usual, I accepted the invitation with a glee and exchanged some platitudes with him, which was usual whenever we used to meet somewhere in the office or when he was on his way to distribute dak and I rushing nowhere to demonstrate the world that I was busy with work.
After his departure, I carelessly put the card beside my whirring Computer and returned to my brown files.
As usual I decided against attending the marriage due to… my lethargy and claustrophobia.
Casually, at the end of the day before winding up the day, I fished out the Invitation card from among the heap of brown files – wanted and more wanted ones- and lazily went through the attractive calligraphy in ivory paper.
Two lines below the bride’s name attracted me and made me review my earlier post-haste decision to avoid attending Kishan’s nay Chandan’s Marriage.
I rubbed my already impatient eyes and read the lines in calligraphy below the name of the Chandan’s bride again.
I could not believe my eyes.
The serendipitous reading overruled my own resolution to stay away from the crowd that would assemble in the marriage hall.
Along with his obliging boss, I attended the marriage in the small but imposing Parish Hall.
The marriage solemnised in a dignified manner.
The motley crowd that attended the marriage and blessed the lovely couple appeared to me like a huge herd of believers attending a mammoth Prayer Meeting, assembled to celebrate the return of compassion and humanity.
The marriage feast tasted the best in the world.
The ambience refused to fade out of my diminutive mind.
While returning in the SUV along with his obliging boss and others my mind was intrigued by a question – a more defiant question evading a reasonable answer “Why did the young man choose to marry from Ahmednagar Orphanage while a person in his situation would certainly have opted to marry from a rich family to inherit wealth from in-laws, which is the order of the day?”
Then that is our Chandan – a Sandal Wood Tree in the dense forest of selfishness and self-aggrandisement.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Anna Hazare And Parliamentary Democracy
the much touted people’s victory following the fast of the veteran Gandhian Anna Hazare can at best be called a pyrrhic one, far removed from the associated imaginative euphoria. The unanimous “Sense of the House” Resolution of the Parliament has only offered a timely face-saving opportunity to the Civil Society to call off the Fast. The entire political class was too clever to not to seize the moment, ignoring the groundswell of public opinion against them. Ironically, the Congress party too emerged with minimum injury from the Hazare episode which was feared to tear down UPA2. Much to their consternation, the BJP and the left too parties could not cash in on much. Though the Hazare effect caught the imagination of the entire republic, the lack of organisation prevented Anna Team from turning the screw on the government. Admittedly, the fast has indisputably created an unprecedented awareness among the common people, but this is no victory for the common man as the parliamentarians still hold the key for a forceful legislation on the contentious subject. The complex and onerous Lokpal Bill is not expected to have a smooth sailing because of the constitutional hurdles and the wide-ranging frame work the legislation demands in the envisaged form and content. All the three demands agreed in principle could be easily accepted by the political class they are unlikely to be affected. The lone silver line in the whole episode is the emphatic victory of the non-violence over violence prevalent in some countries reeling under popular uprising. Good riddance! The political class cleverly demonstrated a rare unity in unitedly seeking to cash in from the popular movement for a stronger Lokpal Bill. Who emerged stronger after the eleven day long fast will become clear only in the future when Lokpal becomes a reality after a long journey of 42 years? From another angle, the media has not covered itself with glory as it was seen to taking sides in Hazare episode even while one is compelled to acknowledging its appreciable role in mobilizing popular support for the civil society. The partisan report marked for ad nauseum media hype was showing very badly.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Anna Hazare Yet Again
In a trademark emblematic of UPA2, the government has yet again got entangled in a web of confusion. It has sneeringly put its feet of clay on show in (preventively) arresting the social crusader Anna Hazare before the much publicized fast unto death - equally much feared by the government. Obviously, the ruling party has not done its home work well before venturing into the misadventure. By arresting him the government was surely asking for trouble, underestimating the supremacy of the people in democracy and overestimating its strengths. Those responsible for this ignominy have grossly misjudged the popular backlash, failing to gauge the popular pulse against the government. Curiously, Aam Aadmi is unprecedentedly influenced by the fervent appeals of the modern Gandhian. Ironically, the whole episode has further dented the image of the government in general and the Prime Minister in particular. Interestingly, the Congress think tank has also unsuccessfully tried to add a feather to the Wuthering cap of Rahul Gandhi by giving the credit for the promised release of Hazare. The Congress party has also miserably failed to see through the tacit support the political parties and some organisations have been extending to Hazare. The cliff-hanger in the whole episode is the dubious role being played by the opposition parties, who should have supported the government stance that parliament is supreme in a constitutional democracy and pressure groups cannot dictate terms to the parliament for legislation. Whatever turn this might take, the outcome remains ominous for the future of Indian democracy. The actual loser may be neither Hazare nor the government, but the
Constitutional order and the Indian Republic, which has been betrayed by various vested interests.
Constitutional order and the Indian Republic, which has been betrayed by various vested interests.
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