Politicians, Dogs, and Banners

In the area where I live,  the population has increased by leaps and bounds over the years, with lots of commercial establishments, housing areas, schools, hospitals etc coming up.  In all these new fangled posh establishments, some of us still prefer to go to the old tried and tested, places. One such , is a polyclinic,  run by an old established  landowning family, where our dentist has practiced for the past so any years, way before we became an official suburb.

The local prominent landowner's descendants, are active in politics, and like to think they represent us. The 2009 general elections  saw some desperate campaigning.

I was once sitting in the dentists chair, in great discomfort and pain,  some retractor type stuff stuck in my mouth, 5 circular lights shining into my face, when someone knocked on the door and entered in.  I could still glance sideways and could see a fellow in a "leader's" white khadi outfit, walking in with folded hands. Much welcoming and greeting, and he asked for us to come and vote for him. After small talk, much facetious smiling, he moved on, into some other doctor's chambers, to interrupt someone else again.   Soon after he went, the old lady , a doctor, whose doctor daughter currently managed the polyclinic came by. My dentist took a short break to greet and talk to her , out of respect. 

"He came to touch my feet before starting the campaign. I  told him, this time you must win with a great majority. " she said. (She had known his late father, the original elected person). "It will be good. All those land cases of his, which are stuck, will then get cleared ! "

(I didn't have too much of a problem gaping in shock, since my mouth was held wide open anyway )  . Politics was that blatantly practiced. (Or should I say, "is " ?...)

Subsequently, with tons of hoardings from various candidates, blaring announcements,  endless freebies being handed out and promised, the man got elected, and since then has joined what I call the Hoarding brigade.

Your work needn't speak, but your image, with folded hands, a big cutout, with photos of all your chamchas, (apple-polishers) with their designations, as well as National leaders, past and present, dead or alive,  on a huge hoarding,  was supposed to speak loudly.

It indicated that you were always consulted by them, you knew them, played marbles in childhood with them, were related to them, were as crooked as them, whatever.....

It's not only your subordinates, but  these leaders have no qualms having their pictures  on hoardings, next to late Mahatma Gandhi, late Indira Gandhi(and her assorted late and living family members, the PM, local chief ministers, leaders of the opposition, sometimes even the President of the country.  Someone is always congratulating someone on a (rigged) election, birthday, or welcoming someone with creative spelling mistakes, all this on huge wide hoardings, placed with a blatant disregard for gates, traffic signals, trees, windows of apartments and houses, all so you can see it from a distance.

One of our cricket commentators on TV, decided to spearhead a "remove hoardings" campaign in a gap between his cricket commitments. He met political power-folks, who were photographed agreeing with him 100%, a campaign to remove hoardings was announced. The major local paper took it up.  For a while it looked like it would work.  The municipal authorities, had to depute a vehicle, and 4 people to remove a single hoarding, and most of the hoardings put up (50%) were illegal, where no permission was taken. 

In Mumbai , at least 500 Hoardings fill the skyline everyday .  Announcing social initiatives, visits, birthdays, and assorted religious festivals of every type imaginable. (You must cater to all communities, to be perceived as secular).  Some housing societies crib about ventilation being hindered, light being insufficient due to these huge swathes of fabric hanging across, etc. Some tear these down, some get threatened by goons. Some folks who came to visit us once even missed the turn at our locality gate, because there was a huge hording of a politician covering the wall at the entrance.  And then there are hoarding wars. Candidates  try to out do each other  in size of hoarding, eminent leaders images,  occasions, and followers photos. There have been instances of someone tearing down hoardings and then some coming up overnight. Clearly, political pressure, and law and order folks keep away from each other.

My hometown, Pune , is often criticised for its banners, and signs outside houses and roads.  People from other towns,  like to make fun of this. There are even facebook pages dedicated to this.

And so it was with a sense of great delight that i chanced upon this wonderful pseudopolitical banner displayed recently in the Pune suburb of Hadapser.  Prominently on a corner building.

It celebrated the birthday of a Dog called MaxiDada (Maxi being his name, and Dada a suffix added to indicate seniority). It also  exhibited names and designations of office bearer dogs,( named Bruno,Moti and Brani), and one office bearer Cat (named Money...err Mani),  who featured on the banner, wishing their leader heartily on his birthday. The banner , predictably spanned across two floors of a multistoreyed building, and suitably blocked someone's corner balcony.

I really don't know if anyone cribbed about this. I don't know if anyone tore it down. I even wonder if any political goon types even noticed it and learned a lesson.

Someone said this was a project by some disgusted senior citizens of the area.

But what i enjoyed the best was a comment by someone saying, "please don't insult the dogs.... " 

:-)



 

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......

New species : PoliticoE. Coli.

"Sweet as Can Be: How E. Coli Gets Ahead"

I just came across this article, in the regular updates I get from a source called Science Daily. It occurred to me that there was an eerie similarity between our politicians and the E coli, hereafter called by me as PoliticoE. Coli.

An experiment at replacing certain words in the scientific original report yielded the following.

Original report in left column in green. My take on the right column in red.

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Scientists at the University of York have discovered how certain bacteria such as Escherichia coli have evolved to capture rare sugars from their environment giving them an evolutionary advantage in naturally competitive environments like the human gut. Microbes are well-known for their ability to grow in demanding and nutritionally poor environments, which has allowed them to colonise some of the most remote places on the planet. Bacteria living in theoretically nutrient-rich environments like the mammalian intestine face similar challenges due to intense competition between bacterial species in the intestine for the finite amount of available food. Researchers led by Dr Gavin Thomas in the University's Department of Biology discovered that a protein present in the intestinal bacterium Escherichia coli was a unique sugar transporter. Common sugars like glucose form a cyclic structure called a 'pyranose' when dissolved in water. All transporters for glucose recognise the pyranose form. But, for sugars such as galactose, which is commonly found in dairy produce, around 10 per cent is found in a different ring form called a 'furanose'. Initial work on the unknown E. coli transporter by Dr Thomas's team suggested that it was a galactose transporter. The researchers knew that E. coli has a galactopyranose transporter already, so why should the bacterium have evolved another system to do exactly the same thing? The answer to the problem was discovered when researchers led by Professor Keith Wilson in the York Structural Biology Laboratory solved the 3D structure of the protein, revealing that it was bound to the rarer furanose form of galactose. Experiments by Dr Jennifer Potts in the University's Centre for Magnetic Resonance confirmed that the transporter was the first biological example to recognise furanose over pyranose forms. Dr Thomas said: "The picture that emerges is that bacteria have evolved many related transporters to allow them to exploit every possible potential source of nutrient in their environment. Being able to use the extra 10 per cent of galactose available in the gut appears a trivial adaptation. But it is exactly the small change required to allow E. coli to grow a little bit faster when galactose is present in the gut, and so persist at the expense of other species of bacteria."

Bloggers at Gappa have discovered how certain species such as PoliticaEscherichia coli have evolved to capture rare power from their environment giving them an evolutionary advantage in naturally competitive environments like the city elections Candidates are well-known for their ability to grow in their own demanding and other peoples nutritionally poor environments, which has allowed them to monopolise some of the most remote places in the country. Candidates managing the theoretically potential-vote-power-rich environments like the city slums face similar challenges due to intense competition between candidate species in the city for the finite amount of available money resources Researchers led by Dr Ugich Konitari in the Inquisitive Department of Bloggery discovered that a mafia don present in the slum population PoliticoEscherichia coli was a unique funds transporter. Common contributors like shops/commerce form a docile structure called a 'threatenose' when dissolved in shouts. All transporters for contributions recognise the threatenose form. But, for funds from such as industry, which are commonly found in the licencing department, around 10 per cent is from a different set called a 'withholdpermissionose'. Initial work on the unknown PoliticoE. coli transporter by Dr Konitari's's team suggested that it was a election funds transporter. The researchers knew that PoliticoE. coli has a election-fund transporter already, so why should the candidates have evolved another system to do exactly the same thing? The answer to the problem was discovered when researchers led by Professor Ugich in the Gappa Structural Society Laboratory solved the n-dimensional utility equation, of the votes, revealing that it was bound to the rarer "currency" form of election funds. Experiments by Dr Iknewit in the University's Centre for Automatic Fund Flow confirmed that the funds transporter was the first shameless example to recognize threatening-attitudes over polite-request forms. Dr Konitari said: "The picture that emerges is that candidates have evolved many related funds transporters to allow them to exploit every possible potential source of funds in their environment. Being able to usurp the extra 10 per cent of government land available in the city appears a trivial adaptation. But it is exactly this specific attitude change that is required, to allow candidates to grow a little bit faster when mafia dons are present in the constituency, and so persist at the expense of other weaker sections of society."

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I always knew these politicians were as bad or worse that these E. Coli. This confirms it :-)

Interdisciplinary medical specialities

Aeons ago, when you had a severe cold/sore throat, a concoction of lemongrass, ginger, cumin,cinnamon , ajwain , a "Mendel's paint" swab in the throat (done with a knitting needle), and a decent steaming of your throat, under a towel, held on your head(over boiling water), often did the trick. Not to forget gargling. Some super conscientious folks even forced you to drink hot milk with turmeric, to the intense delight of your siblings.

Sometimes, some of the household solutions were delicious. Diarrhoea often resulted in someone making a wonderful concoction of nutmeg, ginger, ghee, and I think, honey(could be jaggery), all stirred together in an cast iron kadhai. The patient as well as his/her siblings partook of this with great relish, and often hankered for more, till a parental stern look intervened.

Doctors entered the fray only when fevers and stuff happened. And even then it was mostly the family doctor, who you could never fool.

While medical folks of my generation might remember these household solutions (which they swallowed till they got their degree), today's folks are more interested in specializing . Last counted, there were at least 53-60 specialities.

About 50 years ago, one heard basically about G.P.'s , gynaecologists (because they delivered kids), and orthopaedicians (who plastered the relevant fractures when these kids managed to acquire them).

Around 30 years ago, we were suddenly familiar with pediatricians, neurologists, ENT specialists, Ophthalmologists, urologists and so on.

Today, the field is studded with neonatologists, endocrinologists, oncologists, surgeons (of various subspecialities), fertility specialists, gerontologists, internal medicine (physician), cosmetologists, pain specialists, cardiologists, anesthesiologists, pathologists.

And several other things I cannot spell.

What has intrigued me is guys called Intensivists. These guys are supposed to specialize in Critical care medicine, and basically treat people who are in life support situations in ICU's.

In India, this particular speciality takes on a slightly exciting flavour. In keeping with blurring of distinctions between disciplines, and newly favoured interdisciplinary approach to things, it is possible that intensivists may have to take special courses, in ethics, sociology, psychology and political science.

ICU's in India , particularly in public hospitals, keep on standby, one or more VIP ICU beds.

While you and I have to get in line, and god forbid, wait for one, these beds are often patronized by politicians, who have something to hide.

A few decades ago when the government was after the Indian smuggler mafia, it was a routine thing, for one of them to complain about chest pain , uneasiness, and get admitted to the ICU. Particularly of government hospitals. This disallowed police interrogation, till the doctors agreed. It also gave decent security to the hounded man, and his minions periodically came by and his business continued unabated through the hospital corridors.

Recently, there was a case of a leading elderly politician, head honcho of an industrial and educational empire, who had also periodically bumped off his election opponents in a casual manner, supremely confident that no one could touch him. Greatly successful at organizing crowds in his own support even when an accused, when things got too dicey, he complained of chest pain, uneasiness, and got himself into an ICU. And the speed of investigations suddenly fizzled out.

Within this week itself, a politician, ex Chief Minister from the north who was being investigated for embezzling an amount ( that would have , if allocated, changed the face & fate of the peoples of certain agrarian parts of India), suddenly complained of abdominal pain, giddiness, nausea, and vomiting. He was promptly admitted into the ICU of the local hospital, where investigative reports are taking their own time coming in.

Politicians are getting smarter. While chest pain would always have you wired up for an ECG , which cannot lie, abdominal pain is a masterpiece. You can claim it at will. It can happen. it can stop. You can't be electronically diagnosed in real time with this. With all the indiscriminate imbibing of edible and monetary goodies, existence of gas suitably obscures ultrasonic images. Suits you admirably. There are so many causes for it. Currently, the patient is off all investigative enquiries of the non-medical type. And the doctors are "watching" the patient.

Intensivists who have to deal with such entities, must get extra training in linguistics, psychology, recreational political thought and dramatics.

"You are fine" may imply (a) "Your BP is 120/80", or (b) " We've fobbed off the journalists/police/investigators for a week". In addition, the intensivist may be an expert at hiding his real emotions on initially examining the eminent patient on admission. An ability to make a variety of worried and serious faces would help. Inventing hospital rules that disallow outside security, would get him a huge stamp of approval from the eminent patient.

We might define a new name for this speciality. Intensive Escapology.

Which brings to mind some other escape efforts.

Papers are often replete with stories about people, predominantly Nigerians, being arrested and taken to hospital for trying to smuggle high value narcotics in various places in their bodies. Some desperate types even swallow the stuff , packaging and all, when faced by the police. They are then admitted to hospitals, scanned for movement of the stuff , and treated for outputting the same, through all possible body apertures. I have never heard of anyone quickly operating on the chaps to retrieve the drugs. I wonder why.

But maybe, we need to define another super speciality. Guys who watch the crooks' alimentary canal, and the stuff bobbing down through it, driven by reluctant peristalsis, all the way down, or up, as the case may be.

Great investigative medicine. Doesn't need an ICU. Just a keen eye, and detective proclivities.

AlimentaryMyDearWatson-itis ?

Maybe Sherlock Holmes would approve...

WYSIWYG :-)

Seeing and perceiving.

Notwithstanding the detailed write ups on how the specific part or parts of the brain analyze those images that impinge on the retina, and are reconstructed in some smart place in the brain, there has to be a non-scientific, sociological Indian way of looking at things.

Seeing is what happens when your brain reconstructs the image. Perceiving is what you think about it.

I have often wondered about the custom in many Indian households, where photographs of long departed family members often have pride of place on the walls. Some of the very young family members don't even remember having "seen" these elders. But the "perception" is that these folks are to be greatly respected and their blessings seeked.

Most Indian, middle class, god-fearing homes, will have a bunch of pictures of grandparents/parents etc, who are no more. They are not part of any decor or interior design, but occupy pride of place , regardless of the style of the frames, or age of the prints, very often, in a living room, and sometimes even close to the corner where the Gods are.

Growing up in the 50's and sixties, we always had two large photographs of my two late grandfathers , in my parent's room. My earliest memories, are of seeing my mother emerging from her daily worship ritual in a corner of the same room, where the Gods were, and she would climb on a stool, to carefully wipe each photo, with the edge of her saree (pallu), something freshly washed and worn for the worship ritual earlier. She would also do a moist wipe, and then would apply a hint of vermilion on each grandfather's forehead, and then touch her head to the lower rim of the photograph frame. Every evening when we came home after playing, washed and recited our prayers, the final thing we did was to bend down and do "namaskar" to each late grandfather.

Whenever we had final exams in school, any competitive exam, or even say, a musical performance we were part of , it was the done thing to do namaskar to the gods, the late grandparents and then leave. It was assumed that they were looking out for you and that you were blessed. (Touching our parents feet before embarking on anything new, or examinations or a trip somewhere is always done, but we also believe that the older folks are involved in good things that might befall us). So ingrained is this in some families, that on a recent visit to the US, while saying goodbye to a 92 years old American lady, a family friend, my daughter automatically bent to touch her feet , doing a namaskar; she thought she had dropped something, and her son , had to explain, something which she knew, but age had made her forget.

Today we continue the tradition in my home, and the late grandparents on both sides, smile down and I like to think, indulgently look out for us. This tradition of displaying pictures of previous generations is fairly common across India, irrespective of caste, religion, or anything that might be perceived as dividing us.

While those who were in their prime in the mid-20th century, often show up in photographs , mainly from the waist-up, older photos often have elaborate settings, where someone sits centrally in a chair (with curved legs), with an arm on a table(with curved legs and a flower vase), wearing traditional headgear, and the extended family, complete with babies, gathered in an organized manner around him, resplendent in the sepia.

While this philosophy of honoring elders and those departed is an Indian tradition, it is now being followed, on a national level, in the breach. Most government offices will have huge photos of the various presidents and prime ministers, particularly the Nehru Gandhi family lined up behind the official desks. Various leaders owing allegiance to various political parties, again have photographs of their own leaders. Then we have several historical kings and emperors , who also figure on the scene in the form of busts, or say, riding a horse . None of these great images, intimidate any one from conducting unethical , and sometimes illegal actions , right there, under the gaze of the great.

The 20th century and the fight for Independence saw a whole bunch of statues erected to people, so highly regarded by the country, that millions respect them even today.

Unfortunately, the last few years of the 20th century saw the rise , of what one may call the politician "obsessed with presence". It didn't matter what your political philosophy was, it didn't matter that your personal integrity was indeterminate, but the public was bombarded with images of these politicians. This whole attitude has now been honed to a fine art, by the practitioners of statue politics.

Ms Mayawati, chief minister of Uttar Pradesh who set a new standard by erecting 6 statues of herself ( and some others), in various stateswomen poses (and counting) , in her state capital, obviously counted on the impression she would create on rural folk who came wide eyed to the big city, as well as those who would be daily faced with her stern countenance looking at them as they took turns on roads and so on. Constant clobbering of peoples' eyes with an image was expected to firmly entrench it in their minds. Most apolitical innocent citizens would associate greatness with statues.

The southern state of Andhra Pradesh, although ruled by another party, couldn't be seen to be falling behind. The late chief minister , who perished in a recent helicopter crash is all set to be eulogized in 36 statues to be erected across intersections in the state capital Hyderabad. While several other cities are angling for more of these statues, the large forest area where he crashed is scheduled to be cleared into a memorial , possibly with more statues.

One wonders, if the esteem in which the public holds these folks is ever proportional to the number of statues, that they "claim". One wonders if the statues give a false sense of achievement to those who continue to think that appearances are everything and that hard work is optional. One wonders if the whole idea is to impress everyone with what "power" can achieve, and to hell with the means of achieving it.

While folks in urban areas laugh about this, it is the 70% of the country's folks who stay in rural areas, who may get wrongly impressed. They eulogize, those departed and honored elders, and conversely, might conclude that if you are honored in such an "elevated" way, you must be great. These folks are the target of the statue obsessed politicians. And there is a sense that maybe, you can gatecrash history, regardless of performance and service.

Reminds me of the time, in my childhood, when we would visit the ancient Ganesh temple near the house, because , along with the possible blessings, the climb to the place , if attempted in a running manner gave us some excellent evening exercise. Those were examination days, and this trip with parents provided a nice quick break in all that desperate studying. We would often see a whole bunch of slightly older students, doing, say 21 rounds of the main sanctum, muttering stuff, with hands folded. My late mother, who was then a trustee there, once stopped someone to ask . And on hearing their explanations, advised them , that no God was ready to help anyone who didn't put in an effort himself/herself. You needed to study hard yourself, complete your school responsibilities, and then even if you did one round less of the sanctum in the temple, God would surely be pleased to help. Spending hours doing these rounds at the cost of your studies, was not likely to result in happy events.

We actually get what we deserve. Nobody wants to oppose these statue types, who seem to think that someone "seeing" you all the time, will automatically get you "perceived" as great. So more and more climb on the statue bandwagon, a lot of public money is wasted. Unfortunately, there is no one (like my late mother) to tell them, to cut out the statues and get on with work.



On a slightly more cheerful note, here is something that gives seeing and perceiving a new light. See this up close and from a longer distance . Very convenient if your chair has wheels. Two interesting people, who possibly never got involved in statues.

Happy Diwali !

What NOT to see .......डोळे मिटून बसा......

A noticeably non-trivial correlation between television as a medium, and distraction and effect of it on school children has tended to cause bad blood between parents and cable operators. In many households, cable TV subscriptions are simply cancelled during January to March, so that school children can pay more attention to conjugation of verbs, factorization, theorems, latin names of plants and shakespeare , rather than get distracted by motorcycle chases, murders, secret rendezvous, revengeful k-serail mother-in-laws, and advertisements for cellphones.

That leaves them with Doordarshan. If at all it is watched. It used to be that one watched the news every evening . And given whats being shown these days, I really hope no child watches it.

Welcome to the Parliament of India.

Parliament today, can be held up as an example of how a class should NOT function.

No one listening to the teacher, drowning his voice out; when one member is reciting something, others talk loudly and incessantly, drowning out the performance. When the teacher says something unpalatable, you rush to the front of the class and scream at the teacher.

Grown men sitting at desks, laughing at another's misfortune or discomfiture; suddenly elevating themselves full length, to snarl and shake fingers menacingly at someone , all the while trying to make a point; another one droning on and on and on making points across literature, sociology,politics,sanskrit, infrastructure, and even songs from hindi films whose lyrics fit the occasion like a motichoor laddoo fits in the palm of my hand

Meanwhile. the teacher type sitting at a podium, with what looks like a guard by his side, pleads with everyone to sit down. Repeatedly. he is soundly ignored and some peope rush down to the well of the hall, raising their hands and slogans, to make some points which could have been heard even from their seats. Some others start wandering around in between the aisles, some approach the officers , to try and interfere in their work. Meanwhile some three other guys, hitherto unknown for anything else, suddenly open a bag and start throwing around bundles and wads of money, as behind them, an entire group of people rise is support, raucously shoutng and making , what they think , is , their point.

We actually mugged up all kinds of things about Parliament, its functions, and its occupants in our schooldays; we were passed or failed based on our knowledege about it. Civics was an eminently boring subject. And now it appears, that a lot of what we learned, was simply not the case.

Had this happened in my school, the troublemakers would have been caned and made to kneel outside the class, for crimes, much,much less than this. Their parents would have been called. Some kids would have been marked as troublemakers, monitored, and an honest effort made to help them change. Shouting at the teacher was a no-no. You simply didnt rush to his/her desk and stand staring at her/him with a false bravado, mouthing disrespectful words. If your teacher didnt punish you , your parents would. School was sacrosanct.

And today , we read , day in and day out, about people being "bought" for crores of rupees. These are people we voted for , in what is considered the greatest example of a functioning democracy in the world. Issues be damned. Its all about payment. You pay , and they will vote against the Women's Reservation bill, and the women of India can go to hell. (If some of them actually have not already gone much further, if such a thing is possible). You pay and they will vote against a bill that ensures free education for some children upto graduation, and everything else be damned; their children are educated, arent they ? Want them to shout against a particular religion, pay them.

The young of India are learning , and how. Children kidnapping their friends trying to demand fake ransoms to make easy money ; stealing their family jewellery to finance the secret jailed paramour's bail; a youth creating a false correspondence with NASA and almost convincing a state government(Maharsahtra) to fund so called "further studies abroad" ; and of course, stealing credit cards, and splurging on malls , bars and similar stuff before the slow, long , corrupt, long hand of the law, catches up.

We need to fire these MP's and call an election.

Not because so many are itching to go nuclear and so many others cannot bear the thought, and rules demand that there be a count etc.

But because the recent scenes in Parliament, the crowning glory being the going-ons during the trust vote on July 22nd, make every simple minded, middle class , tax-paying, hard working, God-fearing,law-abiding, worried-about-children's-future-and-studies Indian, hold his head down on shame. Our representatives are a bad example .

And just out of typical middle-class curiosity, I have always wondered what happens to those currency notes that sort of flutter around and come to a stop in little known niches and gaps amongst the hallowed benches, when an exercise in undertaken to throw around bundles of currency notes in Parliament. Does someone (who sold his vote to the highest bidder, maybe, five minutes before the trust vote), suddenly get righteous, pick up a 1000 rupee note and take it to the speaker and say "here, see what I found, take it back etc" ? Does someone actually go around sweepping the stuff ? Do they keep track of how much was flung around ?

Is there checking of peoples' bags while entering Parliament? People who sell themselves for money may simply graduate to more. We have hardened criminals serving life terms coming in to vote in these situations.

Will there be a future where MP's will be subject to the same rules as a normal citizen ? Will a security officer of the august body, not allow his eyes to turn after seeing huge stash of currency notes being taken in to the main hall , and stop it forthwith? Is there something like 'contempt of Parliament' (akin to Contempt of Court ), where misbehaving rogue members can be straightened out and taught a lesson , without appointing a committee?

In the meanwhile, while TV channels continue to show the latest in the Saga of the Crores in Parliament, my neighbor, Mrs Sharma, has just packed off her TV in its original box, and had someone put it high up in the loft. Her son has just started 10th grade, and she fears elections late in the year.


Good luck, young man....