HIMALAYAN STATES MUST BE INCENTIVISED TO PROTECT THEIR ENVIRONMENT

 Himalayan states like Himachal and Uttarakhand are slowly going to pieces, literally, under the onslaught of cloudbursts, flash floods, land subsidence and collapsing infrastructure. In just the last four years (2022-2025) Himachal has lost 1200 lives and suffered a loss of Rs. 18000 crores in these disasters (and this does not include the indirect loss to trade and economic activities). Whether these are natural disasters, as the government would like us to believe, or man-made disasters, is debatable; but that is not the focus of this piece and can be left for another day. I am on a larger and more fundamental point: can the country afford the destruction of the Himalayas and do these Himalayan states need help? 

North India and its Gangetic plain would not survive without the forests, the glaciers and  rivers that originate from Himachal and Uttarakhand, and would soon become a desert: these rivers sustain a population of almost 300 million people and are a lifeline for many cities. The Himalaya Hindukush  ranges help to moderate the climate, enable the monsoon precipitation and snow that recharge the rivers every year. They contain some of Hinduism's most revered religious shrines and pilgrimages. They are the green lungs which enable north India to breathe and provide relief to 40 million tourists every year. We cannot afford to lose this landscape.

But losing them we are, because of financial compulsions. Himalayan states like Himachal suffer from a double whammy: on the one hand they are revenue deficit because they have limited sources of income. They have no industrial or manufacturing base, services sector or surplus agriculture (other than the apple crop). On the other hand, the cost of providing basic development to the people is double that of the plains because of topographical and climatic reasons. The only low hanging source of income they have are their natural resources- the forests and rivers- and these are therefore being exploited ruthlessly for hydel projects and tourism, causing immense damage to the ecology, and resulting in the death and destruction we have been witnessing in the last few years. (Himachal has diverted 11000 hectares of dense forests for various non-forestry projects in the last 20 years alone). This is being further exacerbated by climate change which is drastically altering the hydrology of the rivers, accelerating glacial melt and the threat of GLOF (Glacial Lake Overflow).

        (View of the Greater Himalayas from the author's cottage in Puranikoti, Shimla)

The irony, and tragedy, is that this need not be a zero sum game, if only the central government was to recognise the real wealth and contribution of these states to the national economy and well-being. According to a 2025 report of the Institute of Forest management, Bhopal, the total forest wealth of Himachal was valued at Rs. 9.95 lakh crores. The report calculated the annual Total Economic Value (TEV) of Himachal's forests at Rs. 3.20 lakh crores; this includes Rs.1.65 lakh crores for carbon sequestration, Rs. 68941 crores for eco-system services, Rs. 32901 crores as the value of bio-diversity, Rs. 15132 crores for water provisioning, Rs. 3000 crores for regulatory services such as flood control and sediment retention . These contributions benefit the whole nation, not just Himachal. Unfortunately, these  are neither acknowledged nor taken into account while disbursing central assistance to the states.

But this must change. Himachal (and other Himalayan states) must be compensated by the central govt. for their non-monetary, but vital, contribution to the country's well being, quality of life and sectors like agriculture, climate control, hydel power, carbon capture and tourism. The mechanism to do so already exists- the Finance Commissions, which determine the formula for devolving central funds to the states. A beginning was made by the 12th Finance Commission which allocated a total of Rs. 1000 crores for this purpose, which was termed a Green Bonus; the share of Himachal was a paltry Rs. 20 crores.

This idea must be amplified and taken forward by the 16th FC. The Himachal Chief Minister has taken up this matter of the creation of a  Green Fund or Green Bonus with the Chairman of the 16th (current) Finance Commission, requesting for an outlay of Rs. 50000 crores for incentivising the mountain states. This is an idea which must be considered seriously; the additional devolutions would go a long way towards ameliorating their financial condition and removing their present compulsion to ruthlessly exploit their forest and ecological capital to meet budget deficits. Release of this money should be indexed to improvement in environmental parameters, sustainability of development and tourism projects, protection of rivers and curbing of illegal mining and construction. In fact, the Supreme Court which is holding suo moto hearings on the environmental devastation in Himachal and has said that at this rate the state would "vanish from the map of India", should also consider this issue and nudge the central govt. to create such a fund. Protecting the Himalayas has to be seen as a shared responsibility, not as the concern of the mountain states alone. If the Himalayas lose their forests, rivers and glaciers it won't be long before north India goes the way of the Indus Valley civilisation.

THE ANATOMY OF A PARTLY WASTED LIFE

Most of us seek wisdom by reading tomes by wise men and Shashi Tharoor, but once in a while, going through a book for some entertainment and fun, we come across something that makes us think and exclaim: Hold on! This is bang on! Why didn't I think of this earlier?

The other day I was reading a book by one of my favourite writers, Jeremy Clarkson (of the BBC Top Gear fame), when I came across this gem: If you die with a hefty bank balance and a clear conscience, it means you have led a wasted life ! I poured myself a stiff single malt, lit a cigarette and went into a meditative torpor- By Jove! there was a lot to think about here!

Clarkson's aphorism, of course, applies to middle-class folks like you and me, not to the fat cats. The Adanis and Ambanis have no choice but to die with hefty bank balances for they are too big to hit the minimum balance, and have too much moolah to spend or give away. Anyone whose monthly residential electricity bill runs to Rs. 76 lakhs is not the type of guy Clarkson was thinking about: the only way they can shuffle off this mortal coil without a hefty bank balance is if the five biggest banks in India collapse,  St. Kitts and the Cayman island disappear under the  waters or they enter into a partnership with Trump.

Clarkson's thesis that a good life means that we live beyond our means applies to the Gen X,Y and Z of the EMI and credit card culture, but not to the fossils of my generation. We were taught to live below, not above, our means, to build our little nest eggs hidden away from Ms Sitharaman, to be left behind when we cross the rainbow, for our Hindu faith tells us that we will be reborn in the same family, so why not begin the second innings with a little advance deposit in the State Bank of India? Creating that nest-egg, however, from an erratic pension from a bankrupt state govt. and sliding repo rates, 6% inflation, sin taxes on liquor and cigarettes, Mr. Gadkari's toll tax, is no easy matter. It can only be done by adopting the virgin's SOP- say "NO" to everything.

Which is what I do. The membership of the Noida Golf Club will have to wait for a rebirth, as will that trip to Switzerland to catch up with my old friend Jogishwar Singh, or that Arctic cruise which costs an arm and a leg whether you see a polar bear or not. The single malts are reserved for special occasions, the books are purchased once a year at the World Book Fair from the second hand stalls, Old Spice will have to do in place of Paco Rabanne, the kababs are from Singh's Tandoor in Noida and not Le Merediene. But here's the funny thing, Mr Clarkson: all this self-denial does not make an iota of difference to the quality of my life. I can meet Jogishwar in Delhi (if he's stupid enough to come to India), Blender's Pride tastes just as good to my untrained palate as Laphroaig, the second hand books read as well as the new ones, the cologne doesn't matter since, insofar as attracting ladies is concerned I'm well past my sell-by date,  the best kababs are to be found in street food joints not five star hotels, and I can see as well through a Lenskart  specs as through a Ray Ban Oakley. So I think I'll continue to live below my means, thank you, and invest in a little insurance for the next life and for the inevitable ICU (Incentive Care Unit in hospital parlance because the docs are incentivised to keep you there as long as possible).

On the other hand, dying with a tainted conscience (Clarkson's second imperative for having lived a good life) is much easier to do. It doesn't require much effort in a world of dog- eat- dog ambitions, competitive aspirations, television induced temptations, a culture of doing unto others before they do unto you. Ask Moses, whose ten commandments became a hundred fragments even before he reached the bottom of the mountain. How, I asked my pooch after the third peg, does one retain a clear, spotless conscience when everything which is desirable is either illegal, immoral, or married to someone else? Not that I haven't tried, in the best traditions of Vanprasta.

I've tried yoga, meditation, cold water baths and even suffered through a few "Mann ki baats", but my conscience refuses to cleanse itself. It acquires a new blemish every time I cast a second, furtive look at the neighbour's wife hanging out the clothes on the balcony, my inner voice will not cease to wish that Netanyahu's suffers as much as the 65000 Palestinians he has killed, it insists that I do not have to disclose to Ms. Sitharaman the royalty I received for my last book, it always argues that giving up my seat on the metro for any woman is sheer stupidity, it tells me to ignore Neerja's glare and go ahead and have that last (fourth) drink for the gutter.  And, having lost most of my spine during the course of 35 years spent in the bureaucracy, I'm in no position to stand up to that damned, tainted conscience which now resembles the typical American trouser bottom when they ran out of toilet paper during the initial days of Covid.

So it hasn't been a totally wasted life, Mr Clarkson: I have a nest egg tucked away where even my descendants can't find it, and a tainted conscience the devil would be proud of. What more can one ask for?  

WATERING HOLES AND SILENT HEART ATTACKS

 

 WATERING  HOLES AND  SILENT  HEART  ATTACKS

   Watering holes are essential retreats for all species, in the real jungle or the urban one. They provide much needed R+R and the chance to rub noses (and the occasional unsuspecting posterior) in a relaxed setting. But whereas in the jungle there is only one rule- the bigger guy drinks first- we have managed to prescribe a weird set of dictums to regulate membership and behaviour in our gated oases which we call Clubs. In Delhi's Gymkhana club, for example, one has to apply for membership while still an unsuspecting foetus, such is the length of the waiting list. (I applied 30 years ago and have yet to hear from them). New members are inducted only in place of old ones who kick the ice- bucket, as it were, so a kind of Death Watch prevails on the club premises at all times, with the "waitees" keeping a close watch on the "oldies" and plying them with loads of cholesterol to help the natural process of ageing.

  I have just learnt that there exists a club in Europe called the Giga Society; it has only 6 members, primarily because to qualify one has to score more than 195 on the IQ test. That rules out everyone in India except Mr. Mani Shankar Aiyer, but I'm told that they are not accepting any applications from India after Vyapam- they don't trust our marking system. The whackiest membership requirement, however, comes from- where else?- my home state, UP. There is an exclusive club there called the Mritak Sangh, and to become a member one must be dead! No kidding. The saving grace, however, is that you don't have to be dead-dead or brain dead as in a bureaucrat, but only declared dead, through false affidavits, forged letters and documents, usually by relatives who are fed up of waiting for you to call it a day so they can grab your real estate ( and sometimes your wife). These walking dead have now formed a guild so that they can get together and drown their sorrows. In the USA there is an Ejection Club ( I checked twice, it IS Ejection and not Ejaculation, so don't get your hopes up quite yet). It had 5607 members at last count, and to become one you must have survived being fired out of a military plane by ejection seat. Being fired by the govt. from your job does not qualify, so that rules out Urjit Patel and Raghuram Rajan who in any case have parachuted safely to the Davos club. Wing Commander Abhindan of course can now join, with honours because he also ensured that the Pakistani pilot couldn't qualify.

  The ADC club in Shimla persists with a unique caste system, in violation of our Constitution. It's run by the Army but they have to take in some civilians also because the property belongs to the govt. The civilian chappies can't vote, but the unkindest cut is that they have to pay more for their booze! The army guys get their liquor at CSD rates while the bureaucrats have to pay the normal, post excise, bootlegger rates. They are the new OBCs ( Other Boozing Classes) of Shimla. This doesn't do too much for civil-military bonhomie but it ensures that at least one third of the membership is sober at all times and that only civilian bottoms get pinched on New Year's eves.

  Which brings me naturally to another club where liquor poses another kind of problem- the CSOI   (Civil Services Officers' Institute), Delhi. It's a splendid place with a fine bar and two restaurants, created exclusively for bureaucrats so that they can let their hair down without any arms dealers exploiting the bald patches. It's the place where pensioners are dispatched by their wives every morning to get them out of THEIR hair. Unfortunately, it appears to be run by some teetotaler gnome  in the Cabinet Secretariat who has never heard of CCTVs. Nothing else can explain the recent decision that the bar will open only at 7.00 PM on week days. My discreet inquiries have revealed that the govt's innovative 360 degree assessment system had perhaps revealed that some babus were playing hookey on working days, having gimlets at the bar when they should have been recording dissenting notes on various files or suppressing the data on employment generation. But why shut down the bar, for godsakes? Why not just ask Arvind Kejriwal to install one of his CCTVs at the door? That would have worked just as well, for a CCTV a day makes a babu earn his pay, as the ditty goes. I am reliably informed that the retired babus are now planning to move to Assam or Bihar en masse where the hooch is freely available in police stations and excise offices. Their wives will not follow them, of course, which is another reason why they are shifting base. As that other ditty goes: four pegs a day keeps the wife away.

   The India International Centre in Delhi has fine dining rooms where the members come to relax after delivering lectures on how to change the world in 90 days. But its restaurants have the ambience of a morgue, ( the main chicken dish, I learn, is called Morgue Masala) and not just because the median age of its members is three score and ten. I was there last month with a group of cadre mates and their spouses ( for some reason they are never called 'wives' in govt. parlance, have you noticed?), all retired chappies except one couple. Now,  IAS officers while in service are a bit like that Russian dog in that old joke- they are well fed but not allowed to bark. So when the muzzles come off after 35 years they tend to be a chatty lot. In the middle of all this yapping and general mirth a waiter emerged from nowhere like Banquo's ghost with a placard which, shorn of bureaucratese, essentially asked us to SHUT UP. Since it was an unsigned statement, like the note submitted to the Supreme Court on the Rafale deal, we took no notice of it. After five minutes the undertaker himself materialised ( it was actually the Manager) to advise us in a sepulchral tone that the IIC had a high cholestrol, low decibel policy and could we please, therefore, speak in Chinese whispers? I learn that all heart attacks in this club are silent heart attacks because of the rules. Damned irritating if you are a waitee on the waiting list, because you never get to know when a member has left for his heavenly abode. So now I begin my day by reading the obituary columns- I may get lucky some day, you know.

WEIGHTS AND MEASURES

 I don't fly much these days, mainly because I never know whether my plane is being flown by a pilot, co-pilot or auto-pilot. That's a problem for me because these days the pilot is usually busy having photo ops with his proud mom and dad in the cabin, the co-pilot is busy bashing down the washroom door with a lady passenger inside, and the auto-pilot is probably a bunch of algorithms coded by a young nerd in Gurgaon who's mad about getting only a 2% annual increment and has a grudge against everyone. Now, which sane person would get on to a plane in the hands of these three entities? So I prefer to be highway robbed by Mr. Gadkari and his toll plazas.

But on the occasional flight I am forced to take I always encounter an unusual form of discrimination which no one appears to have noticed. Now, I weigh 60 kgs on a good day, which can go down to 59 kgs on days when I do not get my favourite repast, the Delhi Gymkhana mutton cutlets. However, such days are rare since my sister-in-law, Anjali, makes sure that this supply chain works seamlessly. To get back to the point, however, my weight makes me a lightweight in a country where  40% of the population will be obese by 2030. And this is no country for lightweights.

You are not considered successful in life if you don't have a cantilevered pot-belly. On buses or metros you are invariably compressed into a corner and denied your fair share of space. One invariably gets shoved to the back of any queue Ms Sitharaman decides to put one in. Ladies think you lack in testosterone and therefore not worth their time. Insurers consider you a bad risk and double the premium. But it's the airlines with whom I have my major grouse because their baggage rules discriminate against lightweights like me.

Most airlines allow about 20 kg of checked-in baggage on economy class; anything more and you pay through your e-nose for the extra baggage, an average of Rs. 600 per kg. So if  I'm carrying 5 kg extra, I have to shell out Rs. 3000. Fair enough, you might say? But hold on. What is my total WTA (Weight To Airline)? 85 kg. (My weight 60 kg+free baggage 20 kg+ extra baggage 5 kg.) Compare this with the the Great Khali like hulk behind me in the queue: he weighs 120 kg and his luggage weighs 20 kg. His WTA is 140 kg, compared to my 85 kg, 55 kgs more- but here's the catch- he walks aboard without having to pay a paisa, while I paid 3000 bucks even though my WTA was 55kgs less than his ! There has to be something wrong here, right? Isn't this institutionalising and rewarding obsesity at the cost of those who labour to remain trim and supple?

Weight plays an important role in the flying cost of a plane, and airlines are constantly devising ways to cut down on the weight. According to one leading European Aviation magazine an aircraft which performs five flights a day, each round-flight of 1140 kms, would save 6240 kgs of fuel every year costing US$ 4200 for every kilogramme of weight reduction! Why do you thinks the cabin crew (airhostesses in the days when we called a gal a gal) are usually girls? Why do you think one now gets fewer magazines on flights? Why do you think the cutlery is plastic and not metal? It's the weight, stupid: a girl weighs 20 kgs less than a man on average, so just this gender preference can shave about 200-250 kgs off the weight of an aircraft. The same logic drives the cutlery and the magazines.                                                                                                              Therefore the question: why should airlines not apply the same principle and logic to passengers' body weight? Why should they not move to a "Pay as you Weigh" policy? Airlines should calculate the TOTAL weight associated with a passenger- what I have termed WTA- and not segregate the body weight and the luggage weight, charging only for the latter and not the former. Fix a consolidated permissible weight, say a reasonable 90 kgs for both flyer and his luggage, and charge for anything in excess of that. Why give the fat cats a free pass at the cost of the slender, Mr. Bean types like me?

This would revolutionize air travel and be a win-win for all concerned. The airlines would make oodles of money and would not have to convert their washrooms into paid Sulabh Sauchalayas, or introduce standing-only flights; the horizontally challenged would now have an incentive to move towards the vertical plane; those who cavil at this or refuse to change can travel by Royal Caribbean or Norwegian, which may be a good thing after all: we may see a return to the good old days of the ocean liners, which would be a boon for the environment. 

My suggestion is not as far-fetched as it sounds, you know. Airlines are beginning to see the light and count the millions they are losing by carrying excess lard free of cost. US airlines have now started requesting XXL passengers, who are likely to overflow into the next seat, if not the next plane, to buy a second ticket or deboard. The day is not far off when the XL types too shall be charged by weight, and we scrawny types shall finally get our day in the sun, if not the metro.

THE SOVEREIGN RIGHT TO PRIVACY-- OR SECRECY ?

We live in strange times indeed where the rules of logic are turned on their head everyday with every new executive diktat or court ruling. The latest is this new epidemic of "privacy"- one sided, of course. On the one hand the government is doing everything to prise loose every shred of personal information from its citizens, through Aadhaar, PAN, voter registration, face recognition, DigiYatra, authorising the tax sleuths to mine even one's social media chats and emails, snooping on their phone conversations through imported malware. On the other, it refuses to share with the same citizens information they are entitled to in order to meaningfully exercise their democratic rights. In other words, the citizen has no right to privacy, but the government has a sovereign right to it ! 

When you buy a packet of noodles you are entitled by law to know what it contains. But when you choose your Prime Minister- a more consequential decision, you will agree- you are not entitled to know whether he has a valid educational qualification or not. Even though he has declared it in his electoral nomination form, it has been displayed in a press conference by his Sancho Panza and published in many papers! For the Delhi High Court has ruled that this is private information and no public interest is served by revealing it.

There are so many threads of logical incoherence and fallacy in this ruling that it is difficult to separate them. For one, a person in public life cannot claim privacy in matters that may have a bearing on his character or functioning, such as educational qualification, income and its sources, marital status, material disposition of his family members, whether he has a criminal past: these details are necessary for the public to decide whether or not confidence can be reposed on him/her. Second, he has already disclosed this information on oath to the government (in this case the ECI) and it is no longer private. Third, such disclosure has to be properly verified to the satisfaction of not only the election authority but also that of the voter. Fourth, by this same misconstrued logic of the court, all other information provided by a candidate also cannot be verified or made public! Then why ask for this information in the first place, if the purpose is to put it  under lock and key? The logic of this ruling makes a mockery of the election laws and the voter's rights. In effect the court is telling us that we have no right to any information about a candidate and we might as well elect a pig in a poke! 

Actually, this ruling is an inevitable consequence of a disturbing judicial pattern which began with the jurisprudence of the sealed cover, a hideous anomaly in any rule-based form of governance. It started with the Rafale case, was further refined in the Pegasus case and has now become institutionalised with this judgment. 

The recent elevation of some High Court judges to the Supreme Court further establishes how entrenched the element of secrecy (under the garb of privacy) has become. It has been reported that one judge has been elevated after superseding 40 judges senior to him, and inspite of a dissenting note of a member of the Collegium (which is not being made public). Now, in the executive, even an Upper Division clerk cannot be superseded without recording detailed reasons for doing so, in the DPC proceedings. It's the courts which have themselves reiterated time and again this principle of natural justice. But, strangely, they are loath to practice what they preach when it come to themselves, on the grounds that it would infringe on the "privacy" of the superseded judges by besmirching their reputation. Which begs the question: are only judges entitled to have a reputation? It would appear that what is good for the clerk is not good enough for the judge!

This perverted interpretation of "privacy" has now become a weapon to deny legitimate information to the public, whether it be in Parliament, the Information Commissions, statutory or constitutional bodies, the courts, the media. Even the press is being restrained from doing its duty on the grounds of privacy or reputation of individuals. Just last week a Delhi  court has injucted some reputed investigative journalists (including Paranjoy Guha Thakurta and Ravi Nair) from publishing "defamatory" and "misleading" articles on the Adani group, and has asked them to take down some articles. Pardon me, but how can the court be so sure that the articles are not based on facts, or that they are defamatory? Has it examined any evidence to this effect before issuing the restraining order? If any defamation is involved then shouldn't the Adani group be filing defamation cases against the authors, instead of the court doing a preemptive job on behalf of the company? Legitimate questions all, since more and more politicians and "celebrities" are now taking this easy route of claiming "privacy" to avoid any public scrutiny of their deeds.

The dubiously constituted Election Commission of India has set new standards in opacity and secrecy, refusing to share any worthwhile or timely information with the voters, whether it be number of votes cast, VVPAT counts, machine readable voter rolls, reasons that prompted a hasty SIR in Bihar, the names of the 65 lakh excluded voters in the SIR and the reasons for their deletions, the number of "Bangladeshis" detected (a stated reason for the SIR). Whenever it has divulged some information it has done so reluctantly and under the nudging of the courts.

It has, however, reached the height of nebulosity and obtuseness with its refusal to make public the video recordings of the polling process on the grounds of "protecting" the privacy of our mothers, sisters and daughters! This is a formulation worthy of a Uriah Heep or a Goebbles, given that these same ladies are videographed every day in airports, hotels, shops, road crossings, usually without their permission or even knowledge (unlike the polling booths where it is part of publicly proclaimed SOPs). Surely the Chief Deletion Commissioner cannot be unaware of the fact that polling booths are public spaces and not private places? That CCTVs are set up in polling booths precisely to keep an eye on the polling process, including the polling staff and the voters? That this makes for greater transparency, and that no voter has ever objected to it?

How can justice be "seen to be done" when the process is shrouded under a cloak of secrecy disguised as privacy? Justice can be served, and the law upheld, only in the full glare of the public gaze, not in the dark shadows of legally doubtful subterfuge.

BOOK REVIEW : THE KARGIL WAR SURGEON'S TESTIMONY

 The Kargil War Surgeon's Testimony by Col (R) Arup Ratan Basu                                             Published by Bloomsbury India. 2025

                                 

All wars are invariably followed by books, but these are usually about the blood and glory,  strategy and logistics, victories and failures. Colonel Basu's book is delightfully different: while being both humble and unassuming, it is also humane and compassionate, shedding light on the usually ignored "backroom boys" who provide the spine to the arms that fight on the frontlines. Basu is a general surgeon, and this book is a personal account of the two months he spent in the army field hospital at Kargil. It is special and refreshingly different in that it looks at war, not through the eyes of one trained to take lives but one trained to save them.

Freshly commissioned as a surgeon in the Army Medical Corps in December 1998, he was dispatched to Kargil on his first posting where war had just broken out between India and Pakistan. He is candid enough to admit that he was not prepared to be thrust into the jaws of war, ministering to casualties with the most basic of facilities, A field hospital is only the first responder, its job being to stabilise the wounded before shifting them to base hospitals for more advanced care, but that is in theory only, as Col Basu soon found out. Severely wounded soldiers have to be saved during the proverbial "golden hour", sometimes with complicated operations field hospitals are ill-equipped to handle. But this reasoning cannot be an alibi, it has to be confronted as a challenge.

The wounded came every night for two months from sectors which are now household names- Batalik, Dras, Kargil ; Basu and his team worked and operated at night and rested during the day. He gives us the reason for this peculiar time schedule: Indian soldiers, attempting to climb up the lofty mountains on which the Pakistanis were perched, could only do so at night. Casualties therefore occurred at night, but could be evacuated out of the battle zones only the same night (if lucky) but usually on the next night since during the day they would be sitting ducks for the enemy soldiers. So they arrived at the field hospital at night, were attended to and, if required, referred to Srinagar by chopper the next day. Interestingly, the author soon discovered that number of casualties arriving every day was a fairly accurate barometer of how the war was progressing !

Doctors are the unsung heroes of any war, and the figures of the Kargil field hospital prove it: during his short two month tenure there Col. Basu surgically treated 350 casualties and operated on 250- that's a mind boggling 4 operations a day! He lost only two of his patients. It says something about the grit and commitment of army doctors that he had to perform complex surgical procedures which even a state of the art corporate hospital in a metro would find a challenge- splenectomy, thoracotomy, intestine resection and anastomosis; each of these would have ordinarily required a team of specialists. Basu counts as one of his triumphs his success in saving a havildar's gangrenous, splinter-shattered arm from amputation by adopting some dexterous surgical procedures. His peers at the base hospitals, where his patients were forwarded for advanced care, soon conferred on him the well deserved title of the Surgeon of Kargil!

Basu's job afforded him many opportunities to interact with his patients and he learnt a lot about the war from them, details which have to be believed because they came from people who have lived them: how the "disconnect" of our army field commanders led to the intelligence failure to anticipate that Pakistan was upto something on the commanding heights of the border, in spite of being informed by the shepherds and the bakerwals that something was amiss; the complete initial unpreparedness of our soldiers to fight in these heights, without adequate clothing, footwear, snow tents, acclimatisation, even food, a prime reason for the high rate of casualties-527 dead and 1363 wounded; how the tide of war turned with the introduction of the Bofors guns; the deceitful nature of the Pakistan army which planted mines even as they vacated the occupied areas when cease fire was declared.

There are moments of great poignancy too. As when news filters down to the field hospital of the handing over of the bodies of the gallant Capt. Saurav Kalia and his six-man patrol; the anger and sorrow at learning of the horrible mutilation and tortures inflicted on them before their murder in cold blood. Or when Basu is informed to be ready to receive a special casualty; it turned out to be that of Squadron Leader Ajay Ahuja, whose MIG was shot down as he was trying to rescue Flt. Lt. Nachiketa whose plane had also been shot down. Nachiketa was lucky- he was released after a week or so in captivity when India took up his case at international fora. Ahuja was not so lucky: when Col. Basu examined his dead body he found clear signs of torture and cold blooded murder of a POW. What happened to the Geneva Convention?, he asks. Did the government fail in mounting pressure for his release, as it did for Nichiketa? he wonders. But he realises that though wars throw up many questions they provide few answers.

It was not all shelling and surgery at the hospital, though. Soon enough, it was swarmed by journalists ( Barkha Dutt, CNN, Reuters) and celebrities, for as news of the remarkable work being done here got around Col. Basu himself became a celebrity of sorts! The glamorous visitors included Javed Akhtar, Shabana Azmi, Suneil Shetty, Salman Khan, Raveena Tandon, Vinod Khanna, Javed Jaffrey, Bachendri Pal the Everester. . They were a bit of a nuisance at times with their airs, but they were wonderful as morale boosters for the wounded jawans. The author recounts how one patient, bed-ridden with intense back pain and sciatica, jumped out of his bed to get himself happily photographed with the stars, hopping from frame to frame, his pain dissipated! This was noticed by the Commandant who promptly had the chap discharged and sent off to the front lines.

Kargil is located on the banks of the river Suru, originating from the snowfields and glaciers of Trishul. The last chapter is devoted to this river, which had seen so much bloodshed and disruption in these few months, and longed to return to the peace and tranquility its vales once enjoyed. The book ends with a number of poignant questions asked by the river: Why did our neighbours [Pakistan] have to tread into our territory, the territory that never belonged to them? Why did they cause so much destruction? Was it all worth it? There are also questions asked of the river by the gallant soldiers who laid down their lives for their country: Did we not do right in defending your vale? Have you forgotten us too, Suru, as all the others have? Why should you remember this tale, when my countrymen have forgotten me? Do you think that I deserved to die this way?

Questions that will haunt the reader for a long time. For they have no answers.

IT'S NOT ABOUT DOGS - IT'S ABOUT US AND A MORALLY DECAYING SOCIETY

 I for one was not surprised-shocked yes, but not surprised- by the 11th August order of the Supreme Court (since partially reviewed by another bench on the 22nd) on incarcerating stray dogs for life in non-existent dog shelters, condemning them to a sure and miserable death. For, given the downward trajectory of our social, legal and ethical path over these last ten years, this was a judgment waiting to happen. The inhumane response of the executive and RWAs in some states subsequent to the order only confirms the inevitability of our deteriorating civilisational values. In fact, both the first order and its aftermath faithfully reflect the components that are the hall mark of governance and society in general in this New India. To explain, let me list out some of them.

Justice today is not based on general and established juridical principles, as it should be (and used to be), but on the proclivities and biases of those who administer it, be it a judge, a District Magistrate, a Minister or a cow vigilante. It is either not applied at all, or applied selectively, or interpreted as per convenience. We witness this daily when a judge affirms that the majority view must prevail, when the police demolish houses of accused (not convicted) persons, when language and religion become the determinant for citizenship, when tribals are forced to make way for corporate cronies - all against the established law of the land. This is the context in which the two-judge bench disregarded a previous ruling of the same court, the ABC (Animal Birth Control) Rules 2023, and Article 51-A (g) of the Constitution when ruling against the stray dogs this month. It is part of a growing trend of bending the law to suit one's personal opinions or agenda.

Secondly, the country is rapidly abandoning the scientific temper, without which we shall descend into the dark ages (a process which has already begun). History is being replaced with mythology, Yuri Gagarin with Hanumanji, medicine with quackery, real data with fudged-up figures, astronomy with astrology, facts with lies, the legal processes with vigilantism, both state and private. The instant SC judgment suffers from the same malady- it is based, not on science and global experiences, but on charged emotions, irrational anger, media driven populism, and perhaps personal proclivities. One finds no science in it, except for the mention of figures of rabies cases, which too can be misleading because they are neither examined for cause, type, geographical spread or historical trends and patterns. There is no regard for the ecology or psychology of these defenceless community dogs, planning preparedness, finances involved, availability of other resources for providing "shelter" to 30 million dogs, good practices internationally. Personal prejudices and instant judgments have replaced science, which too is in complete sync with modern day India.

The judgment rides rough-shod over animal rights too, such as they are: a species which was the first to have been domesticated by man, and which has lived with us for 10000 years ("man's best friend") is suddenly stripped of all rights, evicted from its habitat and condemned to a lingering death. But then this too is part of our new ethos; when basic human rights-to life, food, education, of speech, dissent, religion etc.- no longer matter, what chance does animal rights have of being recognized or enforced? This is the age of "kartavya" and not "adhikar", remember?

There was no worthwhile consultation with any stakeholder- animal welfare activists, NGOs, municipal authorities, veterinarians, communicable disease specialists, RWAs- before announcing the judgment. In fact, it was stated that the first two would not be heard at all! This element of arbitrariness is again a sign of the times and in complete sync with an authoritative government which promulgates new laws every day, issues diktats with confounding regularity without any consultation, not even with Parliament. This is sadly now being reflected even in our courts which appropriate all wisdom to themselves and see no need to confer or obtain the advice of those who may be better informed of the subject being dealt with.

And finally, of course, this order is further evidence of how brutalised we are becoming as a society. Compassion has been one of the first victims of New India, as evidenced daily by draconian laws and rules, the treatment of minorities and the poor, the frequent use of bulldozers and an increasingly brutalised police, the manner in which millions of daily wage labourers were expelled from our towns by heartless RWAs during COVID, the hate which runs like a current on social media. The days following the August 11th order provided clinching evidence of this- the cruel manner in which hundreds of community dogs were picked up (without waiting for the final order of the three judge bench) and incarcerated in hopelessly unprepared or non-existent shelters in Delhi, the treatment meted out to them in areas like Rohini (of which the videos have become viral), the merciless beating to death of a stray by a police constable in  of Delhi. On e MLA from the south even boasted that he had himself killed a thousand dogs and buried them under trees! As expected, this barbarism was amplified and justified by ill-educated anchors on TV channels who started a "dog jihad" of their own, literally baying for blood.

I would not blame the government and its institutions alone for our civilisational decay- they tend to have their moral ups and downs, and a compassionate and humane leadership can retrieve them from complete perversity. But a society which loses its sense of empathy for other living beings, which fails to realise the imperative of co-existence, which sees only its own selfish desires as the focus of the universe- such a society cannot last long as a civilisation, and does not deserve to. We are a far cry from becoming the Homo Deus envisioned by Yuval Noah Harari.