NOT REALLY A CRACKER OF AN ORDER, MY LORDS.

   The first thing I did on reading about the Supreme Court order last week on firecrackers was to get on to Amazon and buy some face masks. Because Delhi can now expect an Auschwitz kind of experience this Diwali- thousands of kilos of firecrackers stored from last year ( unsold because of the interim ban last year) will now be dumped on its hapless citizens under the garb of " green" crackers. For the Court's order is meaningless and unimplementable( at least in the short term); it is an exercise in idealistic ivory-towerism.

   The order states that only " green" fireworks-i.e. those that do not contain aresenic, barium nitrate or aluminium, are of low decibels, and do not emit smoke, will be allowed. But the country does not manufacture any " green" fire crackers at all; the cops have no way of distinguishing between the green and the dirty, they also possess no sound meters. So we shall be exposed to the same Sivakasi and Chinese stuff, no doubt labelled " green" or "eco-friendly". Take the time limits imposed by the court: between 8.00 and 10.00 PM for Diwali and 11.55 PM and 12.15 AM for Christmas and New Year. How in God's name can this ever be enforced by 30000 cops on 2 million Delhi households, each of them a potential arsonist or pyromaniac when it comes to Diwali? And then we have the suggestion that city administrations should organise " community" fireworks displays at some central point. Really? What about the poor sods who live near these points?- will they not be exposed to excessive levels of toxic fumes and gases in these concentrated fireworks displays?

   The Court also does not appear to have factored in the seasonality aspect, at least for north India: Diwali falls in November when all the meteorological conditions are tailor made for atmospheric pollution: falling temperatures, low wind speeds, winds from the north-west, wide spread stubble burning in the northern plains. These all collate to ensure that any smoke/smog that is generated during this period does not disperse and hangs like a toxic shroud over the cities and plains. This year the pollution levels have ALREADY reached levels that are seven times the safe limit, the number of patients reporting respiratory distress have already started rising- and Diwali has not arrived as yet! Surely the court could not have been unaware of this alarming context? Why then did it attempt to strike this unsustainable and inequitable balance between Article 21 of the Constitution( the right to  environmental protection) and Article 25 ( the right to profess one's religion)? Why did it not ban the manufacture and sale of crackers altogether, instead of adopting the proverbial middle path to appease the religious hardliners? I find this timidity quite inexplicable. If it can assert the right of a few vociferous women to enter a temple ( there was no ground swell of demand for this), how can it deny the rights of tens of millions to  clean air to breathe? Is the former right more important than the latter? Pertinent questions, but the answers are more difficult.

   Methinks the court really had no choice, given certain developments over the last couple of years, and perhaps therefore decided to adopt a realistic, rather than an idealistic, approach. I don't know how to put this except to say that, having burnt its fingers more than once, it has decided that discretion may be the better part of valour.

   It all began with the Jallikattu judgment last year: the ban on the bull runs aroused widespread protests all over Tamil Nadu, the order was defied everywhere till some kind of peace was brokered with a review petition. Then came the partial prohibition on sale ( not bursting, mind you) of crackers in NCR region last year, mostly observed in the breach, and criticised roundly by all good Hindus. Recently we have had the Sabarimala imbroglio, the fuse being lit by the Supreme Court's order allowing entry of women of all ages into the temple. This was surely the nadir of constitutional/ judicial collapse- the state government, inspite of deploying thousands of policemen, could not implement this judgment even partially- not one woman was able to enter the temple, thanks to endemic resistance by the "true" devotees and the priests. In between these high points of our Constitution in action,of course, we also had the protests over the film PADMAVATI . Of late another phenomenon has emerged: various BJP and RSS leaders delivering their own obiter dicta which sound almost like ultimatums to the judiciary- the Ram temple at Ayodhya must be built regardless of the judicial verdict; in fact let us not even wait for the SC pronouncement on the matter, let the govt. issue an ordinance. No one in either the govt. or the ruling party has condemned these statements.

   There were/are a few common threads running through all the above instances, and no concerned observer of the great Indian circus could have failed to observe them: open and voluble defiance of the court's orders, inability and unwillingness of various state governments to implement them, just about every political party coming out in opposition to the judicial orders on the grounds that they interfere with the practice of religion and culture, the demand for an ordinance to nullify the court orders. In fact of late it appears that the only common platform the political parties of the country, ruling and opposition, share is opposition to judicial pronouncements. This constant push back and friction is, in my opinion, beginning to take its toll. They are slowly eroding the writ and authority of the judiciary, especially the Supreme Court, and perhaps beginning to have an influence on their decision making. The failure to completely ban crackers, at least during the winter months when pollution levels are at their maximum, may be the result of this constant psychological pressure. Which, if true, will be a pity- and extremely dangerous. The "middle path" may be okay for the likes of the Buddha or Confucius but it is not what an independent judiciary needs to follow in a country slowly being dragged to the brink by an aggressive majoritarianism and a pampered minoritarianism. We expect the higher judiciary to be consistent in its pronouncements. Sabarimala was an elitist infringement on religion, the firecrackers order is an abject capitulation to religion. Neither builds trust in the courts.

FROM "ET TU ?" TO "ME TOO."

   Unlike my RSS brethren I'm pretty vague about history: I only studied the subject briefly so that I could attempt an easy paper for the IAS exams. ( It worked.) And even this was so long ago that what was Current Affairs in my time is now taught as Ancient Indian History. Even with this limited knowledge, however, I detect a similarity between the current METOO movement ( it's more a twitch, actually, than a movement ) and the Et Tu moment of Julius Caesar: shock, surprise and anger that the worm could turn, or bite the hand that,well, fingered it. But whereas Caesar accepted that the game was up ( " Then die, Caesar!") our present day mandarins are more in the denial than the dying mode. Take, for example, Mr. MJ Akbar, who appears to have studied history more closely than I, and has therefore detected another similarity- there is a conspiracy behind the whole thing, just as there was in the killing of Caesar ! Come to think of it, he may just have a point. These 16 ladies ( at last count, with more jumping on to the bangwagon every day), all hard working professionals scattered throughout the 2 million square kilometers of this subcontinent, obviously have nothing better to do than to target an ageing roue well past his sell-by date. Mr. Akbar has not yet revealed why they would conspire against him: was it the editorial couch or the editorial ouch!- the proof reading, the copy writing, the rejected by-line, the trashed article? Did the former editor wield his pen ruthlessly, or did the moving finger write, and having writ, move on to other off- limit places?

   Back in the late 1960's, in St. Xavier's College Calcutta, we all knew that Mr. Akbar was destined for great things for we could hear the testosterone sloshing around inside him when he walked past us. But none of us imagined that he would reach this ultimate pinnacle of success- giving an interview to a lady journalist in a five star hotel in a bathrobe, or receiving one in underclothes. Wow! Move over in your grave, Hugh Hefner! It doesn't get much bigger than this, if you get my drift. And it is precisely this peculiar sartorial sangfroid that, I believe, landed him the job of junior Minister of External Affairs. Not his editorial skills. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but not mightier than the sod. For who could be better qualified to conduct affairs, external or internal, than an editor who bounces more interns than cheques, who puts to bed the paper along with the reporter every night, who thinks the wee hours of the night are also the prime "oui" hours? These, mind you, are the as yet unsubstantiated allegations against Mr. Akbar, but they only establish how well qualified he was for his ministerial assignment. If experience matters- if the Agriculture Minister should be an agriculturist, the Education Minister an educationist, the Industry Minister an industrialist, and so on- then of what possible use is an External Affairs Minister if he has not had affairs? So we should stop all this whining and complaining and allow the man to get on with his job. He may not know his history but he's well clued up on anatomy.

   [  Sadly, even as I write this word has just come in that Mr. Akbar has resigned, accepting immoral responsibility for things he claims not to have ever done. He has thrown in the towel, thus depleting his skimpy wardrobe even further. Maybe we shall soon see him in sheep's clothing, something he should have donned much earlier, instead of baring himself everytime his bell rang. He could have saved himself a lot of grief had he done so. The nation too would have gained: now we'll never know whether his international reach would have exceeded his grasp, or clutches, as the case may be. Maybe he would have been better off just hugging the Prime Minster, as Rahul Gandhi did; he could then have proudly proclaimed " Me Too!" and it would have been Mr. Modi saying: " Et tu, Akbar?" And here's another piece of history I still recollect: remember that other Akbar who walled up alive the lovely Anarkali because she dared to express her love for his son, Salim? Well, guess what?- it's now pay back time for the Anarkalis. I guess I've got my history a bit mixed up here, but as I've already confessed, it was never one of my strong points. ]

WHATSAPP WITH THIS WORLD, ANYWAY?

   Neerja, my splendid wife of more than forty years ( I hope that doesn't sound too proprietorial, a-la Section 397 IPC) has been hand holding me all this time, somewhat in the manner of Mr. Modi's government, but in a more benevolent and caring way. She has been guiding me through the labyrinthine pathways of societal mores: telling me what to wear at marriages and funerals, what to eat and drink, which gods to pray to, which books to read, who to consort with, and so on. To extend the unkind comparison with Mr. Modi, I would be as lost without her as the country is with him. But of late I have noticed certain signs of weariness creeping up on her gentle visage, a-la Theresa Maybe: her body language now resembles less that of Mr. Modi and more that of Mrs. Sitharaman, post-Rafale; the narrowed eyes, the pursed lips, the NIKE look ( " JUST DO IT !"). We appear to be heading for our very own Brexit, a kind of Lumpit. This has had me worried of late. Coincidentally, at about the same time my sons started regarding me as if I were a piece of coprolite from the Jurassic period and insisted that I jettison my trusty NOKIA feature phone of ten years and switch over to a smart phone. Get plugged in, Dad! Though I initially baulked at the idea, I soon realised that, without one of these newfangled digital limb extensions I may as well crawl into an early grave and allow the wife to claim the family pension. This world has become the planet of the Apps, as some wise chimp said ( no, it wasn't Mani Shankar Aiyar), and I was discovering that without a smart phone and its apps one could not survive, with or without the Supreme Court mandated dignity: no order-in grub, no way to pay one's bills or call a taxi or open an FD in a bank or book a hotel room or even have a conversation with someone. People don't talk nowadays, they text, sext or vext, depending on whether they are feeling happy, horny or angry.. Even the dear about-to-be-departed want to buried with their smartphones next to them, just in case St. Peter has also joined the JIO club and decides to hold that final exit interview over Skype. Get a smartphone, dad, said my scions helpfully, so even if mom decides to ditch you, you will, like the Chelsea Football Club, never walk alone! I decided to go for it when I saw Neerja ordering a new suitcase from Amazon's during their Diwali Dhamaka sale.

   So I now have an ASUS phone ( it works better than it sounds, though whichever pustule gave it that name should be fired forthwith for mixing up the digital with the rectal ). Having got over the initial teething ( tweeting?) problems, I am now discovering new worlds, though, like Christopher Columbus, they may not be the right ones; I can't wait to share them with my readers. Take, for example, the jokes. Doctors will soon discover that Whatsapp, not medicines, is the best cure for manic depression, dementia and Alzheimers: I am waiting for the day when the CGHS starts prescribing a smartphone and a JIO connection for my condition ( I get depressed every time I think of Anup Jalota and how he can make pretty damsels dance to his bhajans when I can't even get them to first bass, sorry, base). If you are in the right Group ( i.e. one which the government doesn't consider seditious or urban naxal) you get a joke every ten minutes. They are usually about Rahul Gandhi or Kejriwal or Anup Jalota or Donald Trump, which is a good way to keep in touch with the politics of the day, which borders on the hilarious in any case. They are also about sex, which is also okay since the average Joe gets screwed every second minute of his life by either Aadhar, or the hospitals, or Uber, or his bank, or the police or Mr. Arun Jaitley, and we might as well laugh about it. Occasionally, however, one can receive a joke which rises above the profane or the lewd, a fine specimen of the 'suggestio falsi' or the 'mot juste' , an almost literary flourish like the following one, sent to me by a friend recently:

Stormy Daniels ( if you don't know who she is you should go back to your dumb-phone) walks into a church wearing a see through blouse.

PASTOR: You can't come to church in a dress like this.

STORMY : But father I have a divine right.

PASTOR: You also have a divine left, dear, but you still can't wear that blouse in church.

Now, isn't that worthy of an Oscar Wilde or Groucho Marx? Why, even Ms Vrinda Grover and the feminist brigade might think twice before filing an FIR against the pastor. Notice also the politically correct and neutral stance of the pastor: he leans neither to the right nor the left, but stands erect, as it were; he doesn't question the latent divinity of the figure before him; he makes no sexist comment, even though he quite clearly recognises the finer things in life. Surely there's a lesson in here somewhere for our all testosterone driven  politicians, Mr. M.J.Akbar included?

   Take inter personal communication, what used to be known as talking or conversing before the IT chaps took over. Earlier I used to go days without consuming my allotted inventory of words     (research shows that the average guy has a vocabulary of about 2500 words, not including " bhaiyon aur beheno."). The reason: nobody talks today, everybody uses Whatsapp. Till I acquired my smartphone, my conversation with my sons consisted exclusively of grammatical grunts ( they studied in BCS, Shimla). Now I engage in hour long " chats" and "messaging" with them, though even here most of the substantial parts of the dialogue are conveyed through emojis. My addled senior citizen brain, however, has struggled to make sense of the millions of emojis floating around in the ethernet. What, for example, does one make of this 👍👍 ? Is he giving me the finger or telling me to go suck it? Or this: 👺 ? Just what is it that is being conveyed to me- anger, disapproval, a constipated condition or that I should vote for the BJP or else? My worry is that we may be regressing to the stone age and losing the power of speech and/ or writing. Emojis are the equivalent of cave paintings of prehistoric days and they are well on the way to replacing language and script. I have only one remaining wish left in life ( apart, of course, from the desire to see at least three more Pay Commissions): to read the collected works of Shakespeare in emojis. After that it might as well be Gamesupp! 💀💀

FOLLOWING ONE'S CONSCIENCE ? OR THE GRAVY TRAIN ?

   Please call me out if I'm wrong, but I firmly believe that the average Indian is no longer shocked at anything that happens in this continent of Circe. Violence, child rape, lynchings, corruption, road rage, sewer deaths, exam fraud, police atrocities, political venality, bureaucratic apathy- no one bats an eyelid at these happenings, for our society and governments are so diseased that we expect nothing else. As Arun Shourie says: this is the new normal. But shocked I was last fortnight by an eight centimeter piece of news tucked away quietly on page thirteen of my paper: MECCA MASJID BLAST CASE JUDGE KEEN TO JOIN BJP. Incidentally, I have not seen this report anywhere else, not even on our breathless news channels ( the new normal?): it has sunk like a stone into the stygian depths of forgetfulness. And yet it should have made headlines for it marks an important inflection point in the decay and degradation of our institutions, which have become crumbling ruins, of interest only to some future political archeologist.

   Do you remember this judge, Mr. K Ravinder Reddy? He was the judge of the special anti-terror court who, on April 16 this year, had acquitted Hindutva preacher Aseemanand and four others in the famous Mecca Masjid blast case. This was one of the infamous "saffron terror" cases which the BJP was accused of back-pedaling. Just hours after delivering this verdict the judge had resigned from service! And, according to the report in the Hindustan Times, he has now expressed a desire to join the BJP because it is " a patriotic party" and does not have " family rule." The alarm bells, which should have started ringing when he precipitously resigned in April, have now become deafening but all we hear is the silence of the damned. Last I heard the local BJP workers had prepared a gala reception for the hon' judge to welcome him into the party, perhaps a candidate for the ticket in the forthcoming elections.

   We have become accustomed to bureaucrats joining political parties, and frankly I see nothing wrong in it: if they can bring their experience of public service and insights into public administration to bear on their political careers that would be good for the nation. But I view with deep suspicion a civil servant who precipitately resigns from service a few months before an election and decides to plight his troth to any political party. Just in the last few months two such shameful instances have been reported. The Collector of Raipur in Chhatisgarh resigned to join the BJP, and since he belongs to a dominant caste he appears to be more or less assured of a ticket. A  senior police officer did the same in UP, but he went a step further: in a letter to the Chief Minister he confessed his undying devotion to the party, expressed a wish to campaign for the BJP in the elections, and helpfully suggested that he if he was made Chairman of some state PSU he could use its resources to strengthen the campaign! There are good reasons why I consider such people as mercenaries, and why their actions should be discouraged. 

   Their actions could not have been sudden epiphanies: most likely they had to be well considered over a period of time. And since there are no free lunches in politics, these officers would have thoroughly compromised themselves during this period in order to curry favour with the party of their choice. They would have used all the considerable clout of their offices in our colonial system of administration to bend rules, misuse discretion and exercise their authority in a partisan manner to please their future bosses. After all, why would the party accept them if there was nothing in it for them? Conversely, and equally true, why would the officers resign their powerful and lucrative jobs if there was nothing in it for THEM? A fine dog's breakfast of motives, if you ask me.

   To return to the hon'ble judge, however. If such mercenary and self-seeking behaviour is bad for our democratic system, it is positively dangerous if practiced by a member of the judiciary. This is so because there is much more finality in a judge's decisions, because he is the arbiter of what is wrong and what is right, because he has the power to convict or to acquit, because he is the last court of appeal for a citizen, because any judicial system is founded on a presumption of fairness, objectivity and lack of bias. And any action by a judge which casts any doubt on these values has to be viewed with suspicion. Bureaucratic misdemeanours can be corrected by the judiciary, similar malpractices by the latter are much more difficult to remedy. And therefore, the action of Mr. Reddy to resign just hours after delivering the acquittals in a very sensitive case with communal and terrorism overtones, and thereafter announcing his intention to join a party with open sympathies for the main accused in the case, is bound to raise some disturbing questions: Given his prediliction for this party ( and his intention to shortly join it) should he not have recused himself from this case? How objective could his assessment of the evidence have been given his ideological leanings? Could the acquittal have been a quid pro quo for a future political career? Was there a mis-trial, and can the judgement be appealed against on these grounds? Frankly, I am not a little surprised that the High Court or the Supreme Court has not taken cognizance of Mr. Reddy's sudden, suspect decision and decided to look into it, particularly his past judgments to see if there is a discernable pattern in them.

   In this MAD MAX world I find it easier to raise questions than to provide answers, and so it is in this case too. For all I know judge Reddy could have had a genuine change of heart like the great king Ashoka, or he could have seen the light like the Buddha after years of meditation on the IPC and CrPC, and decided that the BJP was the Middle Path between dynasty and disaster. In that case, of course, his departure would be a loss to the world of laws. Somehow, however, I doubt it.