Rs 585,000,00,000 ? ONLY ?

Money has always been money, with the same magnitude of importance. Whether you talk about it now, or say, 30 years ago.  The concern was the same.  All this holds true, if you belong to the unfortunate tribe classified as "general tax paying public".


When I started working,  particularly  in a government organization, 35 years ago, I was at one point introduced to the concept of "someone in audit, raising an objection ".

It's not as if millions in funds were being squandered here and there.  I was simply directed to go attend an  IT workshop at a place  about 25 kilometres away for 4 days. This was not a residential program, and would involve daily commuting.  While I was well versed in the science and art of creative bus and train travel thanks to my previous job in the city,  I was advised by "experienced folks" to check out what my transport "entitlement" was .   I was told that I was entitled to taxi fare.  Wow !

I duly attended the aforementioned workshop, kept track of  number plates of taxis , and jotted down the details, of those, the time, and the fare paid , faithfully.   On return,  in addition to doing a report for those who had recommended me for the workshop,  I had to fill up some forms for conveyance expenses.   And send them to what was referred to  by everyone I know, as "admin".

I was duly called one day, and informed, that taxi fare was simply not for me, and I was being granted rickshaw fare .  Granting  me a closed vehicle with 4 wheels, for transport, would be objected under audit rules . And I was being given the expenses for an open three wheeler .  Not that this made a dent in my meagre nonexistent  fortune, but this was my introduction to a bunch of people called "Audit".  The conscience keepers for expenses incurred and submitted for justification.  

Towards the end of my career in the aforementioned job, I once noticed a discrepancy in salary, and checked up the rules in the  book of service rules.  My doubt was confirmed, and I approached the admin types with my doubts.  The whole thing was pooh-poohed in the manner a brilliant scientist would pooh-pooh, say, me writing about  subtraction-with-carry.   I was told the various steps, that were followed ,before a decision was taken. How things went through "audit",  before implementation.   And how they couldn't be wrong.

That same evening I ran into a friend from Audit in a wedding reception we attended ,  and  between jeera rice  and  hare-bhare kababs, we chatted about this . Corporate types do the same stuff and call it networking.  Just saying.  

Something must have a rung a bell and my friend said she would check and get back to me.  The next day, I heard from her. I was right, and admin was wrong. They owed me. Some. And when I asked her if I should write out an application with n copies for redressal , she told me, that things were in process, a note had been put up by audit, and I would be getting my dues, without raising my finger, pen or voice. 

And so  I ended up having immense respect for "audit", as someone who ensures money is being spent as per rules, points out anomalies and discrepancies, and defines how to right them.


Turns out, in some cases it is never so.

The Unique Identification Authority of India, initiated its UID card project under the experienced stewardship of Nandan Nilekani, who ventured into government after a very successful lifetime innings at Infosys.   We even ended up going for our biometric  cards  thing a few months ago, and I even blogged about that !


Today, I read in the papers, that after spending Rs 585,000,00,000 (give and take a couple of zeros here and there, I am sure),  the Parliamentary Committee on something or the other has moved that this project  be abandoned/stopped.  The Home Ministry has problems with it, the Finance Ministry has problems with it.  And so,  because Parliament decrees so,  the project will be stopped.   Just like that.  And no one ever bothered about how much has already been spent on the project.

There have been loud whispers in the press about certain sections of government being unhappy with it .  Simultaneously, there were also news items indicating how so many millions of people have now been covered under this, how anyone  could open a bank account  based on this single citizen identification,  how folks get buy their grains from the public distribution system, using this , and so on and so forth.

Did someone, doing and auditing job for the government take cognisance of this ?  No.  Did so many auditing agencies of the government that operate at state and even lower levels  think of looking into this? No. Did anyone ever get National audit types like Comptroller and Auditor General  (CAG) into the picture as all this money was being spent ? No. Must we wait while all the money is completely wasted before  some watchdog wakes up and demands a report on the costs and benefits? 

Are wishes of Parliament subject to audit ?  When doubts are being expressed , occasionally in the press and elsewhere about the veracity of information , and biometric security aspects  of the UID, do we have a national auditing entity that says, "Wait. Lets look into this before we spend any more money"....?

They say the Rupee is losing its value.

Maybe in the eyes of the Reserve Bank, Ministries, and those who are , as I call them, zero-enabled (ie every additional zero enhances them). Maybe in the eyes of those to whom it is just a statistic.  Maybe in the eyes of those , for whom everything in life is paid for.

To me , the rupee still has value.

It doesn't depend on the dollar.  I keep track about what it buys for me.  How much or how how little. I am careful about how I spend it.  I  pay my taxes, like so many others of my ilk. And I agonize when I get cheated.  Because one has worked honestly and for long to earn it. 

What is really sad, is when  folks think of the magnitude of scams currently being investigated,  and say, that this quantity Rs, 585,000,00,000 "isn't that much" !

   Even half that would have built some bridges across rivers, where children have to wade through water to reach school, or built a hospital in an area where normal medical help is 24 hours and a mountain away.

What has really lost value,  is not the currency, but those folks that purport to rule us, and represent us , and  decide  how to spend the money earned from the taxes that I pay. 

I guess we stay tuned for the next. Scam, that is. 

Ambitions through the ages.....

What one aspires to be, at various points in ones life, is often a function of the person's age, his environment, and as we grow older,  the monetary benefits.  It wouldn't be wrong to say, that in urban India, it really has very little to do with a person's aptitude, unless of course you happen to be some kind of genius, artist , or a person with, say,  overpowering infrastructure systems (like some people who , as a family of four , actually slum it out in a 27 storey building, all for themselves.)

The best time to have ambitions is when you are a kid. 

Like when you lie gurgling  in a crib, amidst admiring family members , all pointing out how you resemble  them,  your real ambition, is to get that big toe into your mouth.   

My ambition in kindergarten was to be like my teacher, an AngloIndian beautiful lady called Mrs Rowe, who wore lovely frocks, lipstick, high heels, and played the piano and sang nursery rhymes with us.    This advanced to simple things later, like being class monitor, where you jotted down names of those who didn't listen to you, you got to walk with the teacher importantly to the library to lug back stuff to class.

At one point, after a visit to the Sathe Biscuit and Chocolate (then a competitor to Cadbury in Pune) factory near Pune,  and seeing a plateful of stuff  for us  , I thought it was the thing to be the owner of a chocolate factory.   I mean you just opened drawers and everything lay before you, yours for the asking.

There was also an ambition to be a skater , after watching a Abbot and Costello film where a tottering Abbot on skates, simply fell down because a little skating girl, simply blew air at him.

By and by  , reality kicked in, aptitude tests were done, advices taken, and one went to college to do pure sciences.

Many years later, in the middle  eighties, a little boy who was learning to cycle and admired the home delivery grocery boys who came on their cycles everyday ,  declared his ambition to be a home delivery chap. I mean nothing was better than cycling around the whole day, particularly when you carried a load of biscuits and chips and stuff.   By and by, he went through all the phases of police, engine driver, cricketer and so on.

The trouble happens when you leave school.   I have seen hordes vying for engineering and medicine admissions, regardless of whether they were interested or had aptitude.  Ambition was then simply about aiming to be  an engineer or a doctor.

A few years later,  business and commerce caught on, and everyone rushed to get a commerce degree, doing a chartered accountant course on the side.  Business diplomas were the most popular. Throughout all this, computers reigned supreme, and the country reeled under an IT obsession dotted with .coms.....

Today, the field has widened. There is Mass media studies, event management, law, and all kinds of stuff where folks are rushing.  An ordinary liberal  Arts degree,  sometimes suffices to get a BPO job.  Pure sciences are treated like step siblings.

Basically the fun in having an ambition has gone.   Because of the sheer numbers you  encounter. People, procedures, types of commuting, restrictions etc etc.


And then, I recently encountered a young man, who had organized a senior citizen card issuing program  as part of his membership in a political organization.


Not that folks mistake me for being half my age :-), but it helps to flash a senior citizen card, while trying to enter from the front door of a bus,  or advance to a shorter line  in a queue meant for senior citizens, at various places. You also qualify for discounted rates for tickets .

He sat at a desk flanked by large portraits of leader types, standing in benevolent poses , two flunkies on each side (of him, not the portraits), lots of forms being filled, signed by him, and  continuous calls on his several cell phones.

I wondered  if there was something else besides an altruistic gene that caused this.

And then I found out.  Stupid me. How dense could you get in your old age ?

The latest in ambitions was to become a politician , and even better still, an MP. 

I mean where else, can you enhance your assets  by 300% in 5 years ?  Where else can you vote yourself three fold hikes in salary, plus full pensions after 5 years (even if you graced the Hall only for a total of 1 day ?

  As an elected MP , you will  receive an assured income of Rs 1.3 lakh (a salary of Rs 50,000 plus constituency allowance of Rs 40,000 and office or stationary allowance of Rs 40,000) a month.  You are guaranteed , vehicle loans of 4 lakhs, at a very low rate of interest . Free petrol, free telephone, free housing,  and free shut-eye when you make unallowed changes to the housing at government cost. Furniture, electricity also paid by the state.  Free first class rail travel across the country, priority bookings, and 34 free air trips a year, for self and companion.  Even the spouse has a special travel allowance  , presumably to watch her husband, run to the well of the Parliament to protest about something.

Just for attending valid Parliament sessions , regardless of whether they are adjourned , wasted or whatever, the nation pays the MP 1000 Rs a day.   Of course, it is not all serious work . You get to be members of junkets like MP's travelling to study the use of Hindi in Norway, ways of fixing CCTV's  on the roads in London,  public transport in places like California, where there are 4 cars in a 3 member family, and say, maintenance of statues in New York, maybe ?

The nicest part of this job, is that  that , just like the Princes and Rajas of the pre independence days,  you can train, manoeuvre and  arrange for your offspring to follow in your footsteps in Parliament !

Should you stray , (and I don't mean away from the group during junkets)  in a sudden criminal moment, you will only add to the 150 MP's who have criminal cases against them in court. Should you really be suspected of committing a well documented crime , you will  then join the 73 MP's who are currently being investigated for serious criminal charges like rape and murder. Till you are convicted, you are always, assumed to be , what else, pure .

Of course, , out of the 543 MP's in Parliament today, 315, or 60% are millionaires, not all to the manor born.  And so there is a good chance that you can intern with them follow them,  and possibly be the 316th millionaire very soon.

Now who in his right mind, would want to spend years in college, commuting  like cattle in the suburban trains,  being laid off  from a job because the company is going bankrupt, standing in queues for everything,  learning the real meaning of "being taxed" , trudging through hip deep water in the monsoon, suffering power and water cuts at the height of summer, seeing fellows who never braved all this all their life, being hailed as the saviours of the nation, and being halted and troubled by avaricious police because you didn't see the light changing  behind an inconveniently placed political banner ? 

I don't blame the guy. I just hope I get my Senior Citizen card soon .....

Maximum City, Minimum Value

It's happened again.

And nothing has changed.

Politicians queueing up to fly to Mumbai and visit hospitals , for votes and photo-opportunities.

The usual speculations about who did it. By now , even the man in the street can tell who the announced suspects could be. But instead of doing quiet investigations, keeping things close and away from the newsfolks, unneccesary announcements about who did it, every few hours. A free update for the perpetrators on how far they need to escape.

The visit of the Chief Minister of the state to hospitals, followed by a midnight visit from the nation's Home Minister. Accompanied by a posse of police who actually should be somewhere else, augmenting the law and order and investigations in the monsoon city. Both making announcements over television, that could have been actually made by a specified spokesman. MP's from Mumbai giving sanctimonious advice from Delhi over TV. Opposition leaders arriving the next day to show their faces.

Once again, the ordinary man on the street, assorted truckdrivers and car owners, the cab drivers (who planned to strike at midnight (then cancelled that), but ferried the injured to hospitals free of charge), even folks who only owned their two legs (and not much else) and Mumbai citizenry with outstandingly large hearts did their stuff despite those who purport to be in power.

The announcements about which investigative types are flying in from where.

The hopelessly understaffed Mumbai police started their investigations way before the so called national Investigative Agency and National Security Guards platoons got on to planes to be flown from new Delhi and Hyderabad.

So many years on, so many blasts, so many terror strikes, deaths, lifetime life changing injuries, , and the powers that be still do not understand that investigation teams need to be posted in places like Mumbai, not flown in 3 hours later in the throes of a heavy monsoon rain that washes away proofs of the heinous deeds.

There is a sense of deja vu....

I wrote a post when the 2006 train blasts happened.

Amazingly, it looks like every single thing written there looks like it was written for yesterday .

Like I said, Nothing has changed. Except our perception of a PM now hemmed in by politics......

I reproduce that post below. (Published by Indian Express , July 19, 2006, in printline/ed. page)

Resilience in the time of Rudeness

Words have specific meanings. Words like Spirit. Resilience. Coming from the mouths of those whose entire career is based on buying and selling of human votes and emotions, they almost sound like abuse.

For years together, its been a pattern. Grandiose plans are made to safeguard people. Committees with names and unpronounceable acronyms are established. The head of the committee, his prestige doesn't depend on what good work he does, but whether he has a car with a flashing light and a siren, and a police constable hanging on for dear life to the car. Meetings are held. No one talks of any expenditures less than several hundred crores. Lips are licked in anticipation of being designated a supplier of stuff to the office. Networks buzz overtime . Maharashtra asks. The centre reduces, or sometimes, even refuses.

We have heard for years that the police force needs to be augmented . They don't have money for it. Statues in the sea are more important. Statues in parks are even more important. They feel no shame withdrawing police from after-hours duty in the ladies compartment of trains, and putting them on security detail at railway stations, post the blast. Why the security detail could not be drawn from all those politicians who are granted X,Y and Z+ security (for their families as well), is not clear. What is clear is that families of these folks need complicated security, so they can drive and spend relaxing time at the various posh coffee shops and restaurants and malls around town.

Why should a train carrying working women, returning home after a crushing day at the office, not looking forward to a two hour crowded commute, cutting vegetables in the train to save time, be given protection from predating males , who have traumatised and maimed so many women in an about to be empty compartment, in the recent past? These guardians of our law and order , prefer to morally police us. Energy is expended in banning bar dancers, slapping court cases on your political rivals, and basically forgetting the people who put you there in the first place.

The recent blasts in Mumbai, proved all over again, that we don't really need a government in Maharashtra. When the crunch comes, the people of mumbai are absolutely capable of taking care of themselves, and whats more , others. Within an hour of the blast, the various injured were well on their way to hospitals , if not actually already admitted. The "aam janata" came out on to the highways and arterial roads to stop vehicles, and request them to take passengers in their cars, those folks that were stuck miles away from their houses due to the blasts. Entire building societies chipped in with blankets , food stuff and transport; the slum dwellers who may not know if they will have a house next week, ran out with bedsheets for transporting patients, and climbed into the train to extricate the casualties, using whatever little they had at hand. College students returning home, found out that they could help the police control the traffic and keep things a bit more organised.

And people who I cant classify (and wont classify) under any category but saviours, even stood out in the rain handing water bottles, tea, hot snacks , food packets and even simple accommodation , to those people returning home from work, standing for miles together , crushed in a bus, because their train was blown up, and others were stopped; and those unknown folks who stayed on at hospitals , contacting relatives, comforting the hurt till some family member turned up.

They did this in the recent floods, and now the blasts. And they will do it again, because its ingrained. (Readers Digest , please note: one cannot learn this, like eg, saying thank you, wishing others, holding open doors . Some of the folks we are talking about , don't even have a door, forget holding it open. Some get all embarrassed if you say thank you to them, and almost feel insulted. And i cant think of a more useless thing to do than say "Nice day, isn't it?", while hanging on to 5 square inches of an open door in a moving train, trying to avoid torrential rain, or a burning summer day. )

That is what one calls the spirit. Resilience is the ability to keep on showing this spirit, blast after blast, flood after flood, carnage after carnage, one inefficient shameless government after another.

Our so called elected representatives don't need to waste their time passing resolutions in the legislature, when they should actually be amidst the people who elected them , trying to make their lives a bit more tolerable. Announcing Rs 50,000 dole to those injured, and Rs 1 Lakh to those dead , is not the end of the responsibility. The government should ensure that money needed for special medicines for the blast patients is directly paid to the municipal and state hospitals. Relatives of patients shouldn't have to trudge in and out of hospital buying medicines written up by doctors. The Railways, also announce a monetary compensation. I can just see a bunch of unscrupulous ears perking up and hands being rubbed in glee by people who see a great source of income , on the side in all this, ensuring that papers move.

And there needs to be a rule that only the Prime Minister and /or Home minister can come and visit the scene of the catastrophe. Seeing a politician holding your hand, and mouthing inane nothings, has nothing to do in improving your vital signs like heart beat, blood pressure, etc. For them its a photo opportunity. A Khota opportunity , if you really want to know. And all those cars that swish into the hospital porch , supposedly as security detail for the politicians, simply end up splashing monsoon dirt on those waiting outside, not knowing if someone is dead or alive, and what direction their life will take from now on.

So those in power need to stop commenting on Mumbais spirit and resilience. It sounds like a convenient thing in the mouths of the parasitic, moneyvorous people in power. It almost sounds like abuse , from the mouths of those that know not what it really means.

Learn something from the one man, who despite being elected , has never been a politician , and despite being elected by a party, has never really belonged to it.

Dr Manmohan Singh, the PM. Three days after the blast, he and his wife paid a visit to the hospitals . One patient, with one leg and one arm fractured , sat up to salute him. Those with visceral burn injuries tried to give a hint of a smile , so pleased they were to see him. Patients couldn't stop talking about the empathy that radiated from the man and his good wife as they made their rounds, quietly reassuring people, strong and firm. Then he got on television and sent a no nonsense message across the border, with no sparing of words.

Governing in Maharashtra is all about squabbling and power, and talking rot. And , of course , making money . These guys don't deserve an electorate like the people of Mumbai.

Mumbai has the SPIRIT and RESILIENCE despite them.

It will continue to have it, irrespective of blasts, floods, carnages, and moneyvorous politicians.

And never mind those guys who declared us the rudest people on earth.

(Maybe they simply looked at our politicians. Eat you words, Readers digest. ).

Special Days- 2

We have a new Day .

Rahul Gandhi's birthday, will now be celebrated countrywide as Farmer's Right's Day, as per his party's dictats.

This has given me so many ideas. For so many potential days that we can celebrate with appropriate celebrations.

Many moons ago I wrote a post on Special Days, which were actually Mumbai Centric and dedicated to folks like bus conductors and bhajiwalis.

Nothing happened and no one celebrated such things. Maybe one needs to think on a wider and possibly grander scale, like the aforementioned Farmers Rights Day.

Like :


Mukesh Ambani's birthday : to be celebrated as Reliable Tower Rights Day. Folks in power can visit illegal slums, construct illegal high podiums and give speeches about how they need votes and support in return for some virtual bathrooms and toilets that they plan to gift, once the high command agrees..

Sharad Pawar's Birthday : National Fence Sitters Day. This will be be celebrated by sitting on a fence and watching cricket. Flat top fences will be outsourced to some known folks (who will make a killing), to make the sitting and moving more comfortable. Local Baramati grape wine will be on sale for common folks, and on the special occasion of the birthday, the party will decide to change the name of one more station on the Mumbai suburban train network.

Digvijay Singh's birthday : National Abuse Day . This is to be celebrated by giving at least five interviews to TV channels, and calling at least 10 people as "thugs". There is a suggestion that this also be celebrated as a day when one shows off one's connection with celebrities, dead or alive, by recalling one's last communication with them.

Mayawati's birthday : National Elephantine Law and Order Day, This is to be celebrated by allocating elephants to the various police thanas. An amazing way of celebrating slow moving cases pertaining to Law and Order. The common man will celebrate it by staying out of town, or even migrating.

Lalu Prasad's Birthday : National Alu Samosa and Milk Day. One of the more popular celebrations, the nation will celebrate it by every household making Alu Samosa's, and drinking a glass of milk. Just for this one day, the government will train its permanently blinded eye to the hoarding of potatoes in the previous weeks, and the rampant adulteration of milk, the supply of which has decreased due to missing Fodder.

Salman Khan's Birthday : National Barechested Police Dance Day . Ever since his movie Dabang got a National award in the Family Entertainment category, folks have been itching to wear uncomfortable police uniforms, remove shirts and dance, since it seems to yield dividends. The only folks unhappy about this are the Mumbai Police , who anyway face crimes bare chested (idiomatically) , since some one's made a total mess of purchasing bullet proof jackets for them all these years....

Karunanidhi's Birthday : National Crore Movement Day. Contrary to what people think, this is not a Tamil Movie Dance move. This day is to be celebrated by ordinary folks being given jobs by Kalaignar TV, consequent to the huge funds received by the Crown Princess Kani. Rumor has it that opposition parties loyal to another Chennai film person had infiltrated the crowds this year.

Baba Ramdev's birthday : National Fast-Fast Day . On this day, central ministers will restlessly pace at Delhi airport, and garland the first saffron colored person who emerges, in what will then be considered as an amazing revolutionary gesture. Claridges Hotel, Delhi will serve free coffee to everyone that day. Most ordinary people , will practice their Yoga exercises in the morning, and dedicate the rest of the day to learning how to ward off lathi blows. Special training will be imparted by police across the nation. No one will really fast on this day, but people will celebrate by drinking a glass of fruit juice together. Given that this is Kalyug, the possibility of people adding stuff to fruit juice cannot be denied.

Suresh Kalmadi's Birthday : National Deep Pocket Day . This will be a fun celebration, with millions of folks wearing trousers with deep pockets and walking around, jingling the copious amount of small change inside, singing, with great gusto, "Thembe Thembe Tale Sache " which means that "A massive lake happens from small small drops of water".

Some tailors in the good books of the ruling party are supposed to have made a killing, replacing pockets in white pajamas. The chairman of the National Hide-and-Seek Games Association will address a rally of all the previous Hide and Seek champions outside Tihar Residency, New Delhi. Naturally, with the dearth of actual small change in the market, as far as the ordinary man is concerned, it is rumored that some folks are hoarding small change, and the government is seized with the matter and may now decide to declare 5 rupee coins null and void. My bhajiwalla is worried.




It suddenly occurred to me, as to , how and why, anyone could have a Day named after them. And so I studied and did research on how our weekdays got their names.


The Greeks , Romans and Germanic people made things quite confusing by naming the days of the week after their Gods, where the same Gods were called by different names. Then the "old Germanic English" took over , keeping the connections to the old names.

So Sunday was named after Old English sunnandæg "day of the sun".

Monday was named after Old English mon(an)dæg "day of the moon".

Tuesday was named after Old English tiwesdæg "Tiw's (Tiu's) day, and Tiu (Twia) is the English/Germanic god of war and the sky. He is identified with the Norse god Tyr.

Wednesday was named after Old English wodnesdæg "Woden's day", and Woden is the chief Anglo-Saxon/Teutonic god, and means "violently insane". He is identified with the Norse Odin.

Thursday was named after Old English thunresdæg "thunder's day" and Thor is the Norse god of thunder.

Friday was named after Old English frigedæg "Frigg's day" composed of Frige + dæg "day", and what is most interesting, is that Frigg (Frigga) is the Teutonic goddess of clouds, the sky, the Norse goddess of love and the heavens and the wife of Odin, the guy after whom Wednesday is named. !!

Saturday has some boring precedent having to do with Saturn.

But what is terribly revealing, is that nepotism surely existed while naming Wednesday and Friday, even in those days.

I may be wrong but something about naming days after Odin(Wednesday) and Frigga(Friday) rings a loud bell......

Some Adarsh solutions....

Buildings built with the blatant connivance or calculated blindness of , the powers that be, and in complete disregard of the laws of the land, are nothing new in Mumbai. This has been so for several decades. It is also observed, that those officers who are perceived as being obstacles in the development of such buildings and societies, are summarily transferred or removed from the scenario under some pretext.

The very inappropriately named " Adarsh " (= ideal) housing society scam wins the shameless award on all fronts. The land wasn't theirs, they misled authorities in various ways, they built 25 more floors than they were allowed to, registered owners for flats on those floors, and till the RTI activists forced the data out into the open, no one in the government, civilian or military thought of giving the project a second look. What is more, an adjoining piece of land was being eyed by some more unscrupulous government folks for construction of an Adarsh-2.

Consequent to questions in a rarely functioning Parliament, and various so called authorities, who were caught with their hands in the till, big guns like chief ministers were forced to resign, the environment ministry stepped in to check if CRZ coastal regulations were disobeyed and have now recommended that this whole 31 storey building beemolished/destroyed/bulldozed, as an example .


There are many people who purchased flats here at a later stage, putting in their life savings, and were reassured by the fact that it had so many big shots as members, that there would be no problems anywhere in the paperwork. These people are now upset , and wish to know what happens to their money.


(This is a bit like the Mumbai roads, where the Municipal types , hand in glove with the road contractors, deliberately certify substandard work, and get paid again and again, cuts going to facilitators, and nobody gives a damn about subsequent traffic and pedestrian problems, or what is worse, ambulances carrying emergency cases, who get stuck in the mess, sirens blaring desperately. Unlike the fellows above cribbing about life savings, here it is an actual life involved, and these delays often prove fatal. But the big difference is that we are lowly tax paying citizens and these are corrupt leaders, legislators and politicians).


Apart from this blame game, the building scheduled for destruction, has involved millions of man-woman hours of very hard work by some very ordinary rural folk, imported for this work from rural areas, and made to work, possibly by bypassing, and flouting safety norms , all so the contractor can increase his profit. There is a huge amount of material that will go waste in this demolition exercise. There will be immense noise, dust, and possible money pollution associated with this.


And unless, the environment ministry does a survey of all illegal buildings in Mumbai, and takes similar action, this one-off recommended action by the Environment ministry will be seen as a symbolic action, and will go the way of all symbolic actions, like bureaucrats posing with brooms and protective hats on "Keep your city clean " days, while unprotected municipal class IV conservancy staff continue to fall and drown unprotected into drainage manholes, and suffocate in the gases..

The question is what do we do with a 31 storey building.


It is clear that unless they had planned the 31 storeys at the foundation stage (deep enough) itself, somebody didn't suddenly get an evil brainwave at the 6th floor, and suddenly decide to build 25 more. The land, it seems belongs to the Military, but nothing was done about it, and eyes were kept closed, to enable Military types to buy flats there.

It seems like a good idea, to take away all the flats from the people who have registered and bought them there. None will be homeless, as they have other homes, maybe several. Possibly in Mumbai itself.


There are some more ideas.


a). Shift all the ministers out of their sprawling bungalows in Malabar hill, and allot them a flat each in Adarsh. This will sharply cut down house makeover costs, at public expense. I don't pay my taxes so somebody can have silk curtains in a room with 5 AC's, or so that someone can order expensive furniture for a totally unnecessary makeover. Come to think of it the minister needs a makeover, not his house. The possible emptying up of large sprawling tracts of land in that area, would possibly lead to some planned forestation efforts in an area where we now speak of heights of buildings, shamelessness and power, instead of heights of old trees.


b) Convert the building into a subsidized Children's Hospital, where people from all over Maharashtra/India can come and get the best of treatment, with some lower/upper floors reserved for dormitory accommodation for the parents of admitted kids.


c) A Working women's hostel, as well as a place of refuge for the increasingly ill treated senior citizens, with adequate security. This security could be provided by our military because it is supposed to be their land.


d) The solution to revert back to the place as residences for the Kargil War Widows is also possible. However, a house is more than rooms and walls; it is also about extended family, reliable neighbors, social milieu and interactions, and there must be then a way of ensuring that the house remains with whoever it has been granted to. Most times, senior extended male family members rule the roost, take over the benefits accruing to the widow, and she is back where she was. Unless the government can set up a vigilance system for the occupants, this solution will not work.


e) Maharashtra Police at the lower levels have inadequate benefits. They need more recruits, they need to offer more benefits at the basic level, and police housing is something which has been crying for action. Adarsh could be something where they could have police housing for the lower echelons. Officer levels have guaranteed housing with cars and orderlies, and these facilities are often times abused. It is time that we did something for those, who risk life and limb on the roads of Mumbai, regardless of the weather, with inadequate protection (armswise), provide you the one live captured terrorist at the cost of their life, only to have the top echelons, move around in beaconed cars, giving endless statements and excuses about inefficient non-working bullet free jackets and messaging confusion during 26/11.


There could possibly be more innovative solutions I think the first one would be a cost saving one. The Mantralaya offices would be within walking distance. Minister types walking with their alphabetically enabled security detail, would draw admiring glances from the public, avoid traffic jams, improve pedestrian facilities in a city that believes only in 4 wheelers. There would be an immense saving in petrol. The WSJ, Time and Huffington Post post will write about this, and maybe we can arrange for the symbol obsessed types to wear a beacon on their head as they walk to work.

It just occurred to me that when we ordinary people think of investing in a flat, and particpate in getting a loan or membership in a housing society, we are always asked to submit a court affidavit on stamp paper , declaring that we do not own any other property within the city. I wonder what all the cheaters at "Adarsh" did . Or maybe , their affidavits were actually printed on stamp paper which was itself part of the earlier Telgi Stamp Paper Scam . So much for false declarations on false stamppapers, or true declarations of false stamppapers, or false declarations on true stamppapers.....Never mind.


I wonder if you have any other solutions for the usage of this building . ..... suggestions welcome!

In praise of the small and simple.....

She appeared at the door last week. An old stooped lady, wearing glasses with fairly thick lenses. Wearing a traditional nine yard sari, the sort you carefully wash, fold and then store under the mattress in such a way, that it gets a natural ironing, thanks to everyone sitting and or lying down on the one big bed in the house , holding several mattresses. In her house, the place isn't big enough for large amounts of furniture. And the mattresses are pulled down at night for everyone else, while the oldest elder gets the bed.

She was accompanied by a grandson. That's who I thought he was. At first I didn't recognize her. She looked up at me, and smiled. Toothlessly. Through her cataracted eyes. Shining. And then it hit home.

Bhagabai. Who was so much a part of my life when i went to my parents for my first delivery.

It is very traditional, for a girl expecting her first child, to go to her parent's house sometime before her due date. Today, with so many working women, and migration to the metros from small towns, understanding parents make the reverse trip to be there for their daughter and help. Sometimes, understanding parents-in-law chip in with their own help.

But going to one's parents house gives you the sort of freedom, you don't get anywhere else. You can sleep late, cups of tea magically appear when you vaguely wish about them, all kinds of culinary stuff is made for you, and you can absolutely dig in without appearing to be a greedy fool. "I don't feel like doing this", a phrase you dare not utter in front of your in-laws, is quite acceptable here. Although it is considered bad manners to sit with your feet up even in front of your parents (forget in-laws), going to your parents at this point is like mentally putting your feet up , if you know what I mean .... When you go out, you run into some of your school friends' parents and siblings, the local cycle shop fellow who repaired your punctures in college, asks after you and your husband, and the vegetable lady, sends her granddaughter with you, to carry the veggies when you return from shopping .

Post delivery, a very interesting person arrives on the scene. That was Bhagabai.

About 30 years ago, it was fairly routine to employ ladies like Bhagabai, for what was called Post-natal massage, and bathing and massaging the baby. I came home from hospital, and settled in. Bhagabai appeared a few days later. Ladies like her, are experts in the bathing and massaging of babies, in the traditional way. Alongside, they also massage the desperately tired muscles and ligaments of the mother, and there is a technique to it.

They use ordinary oil, and you feel the goodness oozing out of the rough, hardened, fingers, as your muscles get a indulgent talking to. An unusual aspect of the massage is a small utensil made out of a certain alloy , for which I do not know the English name. This utensil, and the oil , is rubbed on the soles of your feet, to remove the "heat". Whatever the science behind this, it used to feel good, and you felt very light after the sole rubbing. You were then accompanied into the bath, where water, as hot as you could tolerate, was poured on you by the big tumblerfuls, and garbanzo flour paste was used to remove any oil that had not managed to seep in by then, into your somnolent body. It felt wonderful. It did things not only to your body, but also to your mind. And some hot-off-he-griddle freshly made tortillas for breakfast with some delicious veggies completed the heavenly routine.

Bhagabai would then sit on the floor, with her feet out in front. Tuck in her saree above her knees, spread a soft white freshly washed cotton towel across her knees, and place the baby on her knees. A dab of oil on her palm, a rubbing together of the palms, and she would proceed to massage, the fairly new knees and ankles and things. Arms, shoulders and back were next. Sometimes the baby was laid on its stomach , so that the shoulders got a nice rub. Indian babies tend to have a nice mop of dark hair, and that was oiled too, with a special type of massage at the point where the fontanel was. You needed to go a bit easy there, as things were still joining up there at that point. The baby was bathed with warm water, to which sprigs of Neem were added. No soap was used, but it was all about using garbanzo flour paste. It had no chemicals, it didn't matter if you managed to eat some, and the face shone after you washed , to such an extent, Proctor and Gamble would have simply quietly vanished if they were watching....

Swaddled in fresh cotton clothes, and a cotton wrap , special wraps being done for the belly button area of the baby which was still healing from the loss of the umbilicus, the baby would lie restfully next to the mother, while Bhagabai would fan a largish plate containing some charcoal fire. She would then throw a mixture of few seeds like fennel, cumin, ajwain (carom seeds), etc, on the fire, and a wonderful smoke and aroma would pervade the room. This was designed to disinfect the atmosphere in the room, as well as give protection from allergies to the mother and child.

At the end of it all, she would sit back, have a cup of tea, chat with my mother for a while, and push off for her next massage assignment. If she felt the child was developing a cold or something, she would alter the mixture of the final seeds that were smoked, and the baby would be fine.

Bhagabai came to us for a month for me, and another month more for my son. She was a big part of the day we had the naming ceremony, and got special sarees from my in-laws and parents on that day. By and by I returned to my own home in Mumbai, and lost touch with her. But she would come once in a while to see my mother, ask after us. At some point of time, she kind of retired from all this and went back to her native place, to her ancestral house, where she lived then with her two sons and their wives and children.

She had been to Pune , and someone told her about my parents being no more. She asked about us, and my cousin told her where I lived. Her grandson was accompanying her to Mumbai as they had come to see someone who was seriously ill , and in hospital, and belonged to Bhagabai's generation.

On an impulse, she found out how to get to my place and came. To offer condolences.

"You know , those days are gone. These young mothers today can't sit still. They start going out to work and shopping, and stuff, and eat outside stuff. They worry about their figures. They avoid eating the old style prescribed stuff , satwik food, and then complain about aches and pains and inability to breastfeed the child....", . She shook her head, adjusted the end of her saree over her head, and looked up at me, as her grandson sort of rolled his eyes and looked up, but indulgently.

I remembered a friend's daughter who had just delivered and I asked if she was interested. She was nearby. Bhagabai could stay with me, and go there. It would be a nice change for Bhagabai, for me, and the new mother.

She smiled.

"You know, the heart is willing, the hands are willing, but I need to go back in a few days. " She motioned to her son to carry the empty teacups and plates into the kitchen and leave them there.

Her reason completely stumped me.

"Elections are there. My name is registered at the village. And I have to be there to vote. I have not missed a single election so far. It is important that we vote for the correct chap. today money power is misused. ....."

Yes, we are having our national elections in April.

This has been a tumultuous time.

Tumultuous in the highs and lows of economy, morals, money,violence,politics and yes, sport; as the 26/11 carnage in Mumbai festers in every one's mind, and makes you look over your shoulder, more than normal. For the ordinary person on the street, worry is a real and valid activity, till you reach your destination. Every time your child is late getting home, your hand reaches for the TV remote.

In the midst of this, India decided to keep its date with democracy. We have general elections, every 5 years. And now is the time.

Come April, and in a country , with an estimated population of 1.15 billion, representing 17% of the world population, 714,000,000 voters will use 1,368,430 electronic voting machines, to indicate their choice. Some will fly in, pose, smile, and vote; some will drive; some will step out of a decelerating public transport to do their civic duty; and in the back of beyond, rural areas, some elder son with a strong back, will carry his old mother piggyback over hill and dale, so she can cast her vote. She may be illiterate, may not know the names of first citizens, but she has a fine work ethic, a pride in the country, and can discuss and decide which man or woman, is worth voting for.

29 different languages are spoken by at least 1 million people each, where several hundred languages are designated as mother-tongues.Being the most culturally, linguistically and genetically diverse geographical entity after the African continent, this country is home to folks from 9 major religions, Hindu (80.5)% (13.4%), , Muslims Christians (2.3%), Sikhs (1.9%), Buddhists (0.8%), Jains (0.4%), Jews, Zoroastrians, Bahá'ís and others. Tribals constitute 8.1% of the population.

Folks will make their way to 828,804 polling booths, and do their bit to preserve democracy.

Something we seem to be fairly good at, given that we have more reasons to divide us than unite us.

The Home Minister cannot emphasize enough the security aspect of these elections, and the country's law and order forces are totally committed to this.

In the midst of this , the Indian Premier League, the most commercialized money making cricket extravaganza , if there was one, schedules its matches right in the middle of the election period. This, despite the fact that a schoolchild knows that elections must happen before May.

As if that wasn't enough, Mr Lalit Modi, the gung-ho IPL commissioner argues and tangles with the government demanding security for the games. The latest terrorist attack on the Sri Lanka Cricket team in Pakistan has upped the threat perception. Big names in cricket , from UK, Australia, NZ, and SA, who have signed up, are expressing doubts about their own availability , worried about the security aspect.

Everyone is aware, but the amount of security personnel are barely enough for countrywide elections. The interests of the country are paramount. Cricket can always be played later. And IPL isn't even cricket, like test cricket. . It's like McDonald's trying to be the Taj Mahal Hotel.

The news channels show nothing else for 3-4 days, not having the IPL matches is declared a shame on the Nation, and the IPL pffice bearers, all politicians , who knew when the elections were scheduled, alternately huddle together, and fly cross country in a frenzy of discussions.

Yes, the IPL matches WILL be held. But not in India. The head honcho, Mr Modi flies to SA and the change in venue to SA is announced.

To me. the IPL-organizers is a standing example of what should not be. Wheelers and dealers. To them, its all about maximizing revenue, and reducing losses. Commercials and media ads, and sponsorships, and stadia advertising. They have "bought" and traded cricketers for huge sums, and will have mud on their face if these don't turn up due to perceived security problems.

So they make outrageous security demands from the government during election time. Refusals from the government are blithely dismissed as political posturing. In the meanwhile, someone somewhere is quietly moving the jamboree out of India. So that the foreign players will turn up. The Indian players will miss out on so much family time because of travelling .They play for the country, and that dedication is ruthlessly exploited. So many people will stay away from the country and forget to vote. But who cares.

These big guys, non-playing, non-sporting IPL types, who have so much in life, money, power, prestige, hangers on, authority, and what have you, don't have one thing that Bhagabai has.

National pride.

Its your country, and its important that you vote. That you be there.

But is anyone listening ?