20 years, and counting

I have written on the Indian economy. Connectivity. Bihar elections. Newly-built bridges, almost instantly washed away. The aviation and hospitality sectors, hopelessly gone asunder. Ship-building, tanked and sinking. Telecom, clearly rendered impotent. India's defence capabilities, denied consistency and relevance over and beyond, give or take the five Rafale fighter jets that shall soon transport us to Jupiter and its moons, perhaps even further, driven by the Dassault Aviation-led tail winds. Of our faux pas governance, an insipid exercise and (ad)venture, to say the least. COVID-19, job losses and salary cuts. Lockdowns. Liquor freezes and surges. Fuel price hikes that defy the most basic of economics.

God, I am tired. Dismal. Dismayed. Disgusted. Enough policy initiatives and so on and forth, or the abject, nearly pathetic absence thereof. Today, let's talk you. Me. Us. We. The people. The masses. The classes.

Let's talk things good. Like my beautiful wife Anjali. She happened to me 20 years back.

And hello, let's talk me. I am, ahem, good-looking. Even at 51, I am. I bloody-well insist. Look at the picture posted with the column! Okay, at the very least, I am pleasing to the eye. Do not disagree, I warn you. My double-coated German Shepherd, Bobo, will bite you if I don't. My cats and other dog, Kaira the Beagle, are nodding and licking their paws in agreement as I type this out. They are, by the way, typing half of this. Betwixt the five of us, we assure you we are all very, very cute. The fifth animal in the family, my wife Anjali, has no choice now but to agree. After all, she did marry me.

So, is this what I should churn out and base this column on? Our looks, the happenings around me, our experiences over the last few months, India in general? Nah, says the general public. But why not? Aren't we now used to and immune to the most inane and ridiculous reportage, writings and TV debates? Why can't I be idiotic and a moron, at least once?

A senseless column

So today is going to be unusual. Senseless. Insane. Anyhow, who wants to be regular and predictable in these tremulous times? Just once, let me be bizarre and inconstant, if only to make your Sunday eventful. Idiotic perhaps, but a good time-pass for a few minutes. Yes. Let's begin by talking me, and what makes me, me. A few of all of our life's first few experiences play an inscrutable role in shaping our future, parabola-style. Like when I first got caught stealing from my father's wallet for a good old Coca-Cola and an 'elaichi' biscuit. Shame-faced, I was, at 7. And then how I rode a Bajaj scooter with three gears at 12. And drove a jeep for the first time, and that too on a highway, when I was 13. No one knew I didn't know how to drive — and I drove 300 kms.

Poor blokes. Or when I wrote my first article for a national newspaper, just shy of 14. It was baptism by fire. Enervating. My golden years! What a delight it was. Choices were easy — a 'gulab jaamun' was way more important than a kiss from a pretty girl.

Fast forward to today. I am older. Wiser. Chastised. I see things a bit differently. Yes, parts of me still find my wife cute and beautiful, but some larger parts now deem her organized, dignified and elegant. My real hormones are fading out, I guess. What's fading out too, sadly, is my vision of a vibrant, classy and modern India. I see my country inescapably sliding into little-ness, and that really bothers and scares me. The larger ramifications of the same worry me more — as they should you.

My Bammu is gone

Today, I worry for my family. My Persian cat, Bamby a.k.a. Bammu, the hero of Himachal Pradesh hoteliers (and their selfie king), passed away two weeks back. He cawed and bayed in my arms for a bit and suddenly went away, all of one-and-a-half years old. At 51, I abstained from displaying any emotions for hours. I am a tough guy.

Come the night, I cried. Inconsolably. For hours. Other than Anjali, the only one who stood by me that night was my 'junglee' Indian cat, who took things further. She howled, ranted and called out repeatedly to Bamby, who we had just buried in the park outside the house. Worse still, the 'junglee' then went silent for days and stopped eating, even having water. It was an eye-opener, how these little ones with four legs and wagging tails have emotions far deeper than ours. Desperate to get the older one eating, we got another little tiny Indie kitten to keep her company. And soon enough, the 'junglee' nuzzled up to the needy little kitty in just a few hours and then gobbled up some Whiskas. Idiot animals, right?

Yes. But we, given our human supremacy and intelligence, repeatedly commit the most dastardly and distasteful acts. For one, the authorities and some sections of the media… Hathras midnight pyre. Sushant Singh Rajput's death coverage. Rhea Chakraborty's hassling. Falsified TRP ratings by leading channels. Fuel price hikes that betray and berate logic and economics.

Or another announcement of a 6 pm Tuesday nationwide address that had every television channel speculating on what the focus could be. Ladakh? Another fiscal stimulus package? Joint naval exercises to scare the 'dragon'? Vaccine now ready? The nation suddenly needed to know, desperately. It was on tenterhooks. And suddenly, we knew. We were told that while

lockdowns are over, COVID-19 isn't, and the Coronavirus is still here. Stay careful. Wash your hands. Wear your masks. Wow. Okay. Thanks for the heads-up. We had almost forgotten. God bless you too. Stay safe.

But I promised. No real issues today. Enough has been said and vomited on all this.

'Buzurg aa gaya'

The lovely lady in my life laughed at me over a recent TV report, which classified everyone over 50 as a 'buzurg' (elderly person). Laugh away, world and lady, but I am off to Manali again with you, 'elegant' and 'dignified', bless my hormones. We shall also be accompanied by 16 legs, large and small, and four tails. They make up the pack and man up our 4x4 (they are all ladies). We shall wave to people on the road and slam-dunk fists at 'dhabas' with those that appreciate life, animals and togetherness.

As always, we shall also link up with every person who meets us and share and cherish the moment. Travelling with four-legged creatures is a blessing, for it always creates a ripple and a crowd. Some people call us cruel. "See that? They have four animal victims locked up in the car while they are enjoying hot dal and paranthas at the hotel?"

True. To understand, please travel (drive) 600 km over 14 hours in a car with four idiots (five, if you count the missus) and understand who the victim is. My dogs and cats are awesome, and they quietly wait on my arm for sustenance and succulence. And anyone who calls them a victim is most welcome to. For one of the victims is my full-blown German Shepherd who will sing a song if I ask her to. My Beagle croons well too. So pass judgment at your peril, and the rest is going to be my pastime. Bhow bhow… Ouch!

Today, tis the missus

I started with her. I shall end with her. Anjali is a good kid. I am not. We have arguments. Lots of them. About where the country is headed. Where it will go? She asks way too many questions, girl from Amritsar that she is. Very irritating, sometimes. I fester and fume for a bit, but that's the creed and base. For she's right. She laps up newspapers for breakfast and snacks on social media for lunch. When 'buzurg' me wakes up and comes to my senses, the questions from her are as omnivorous as they are carnivorous.

Examples

Question 1: "Have you seen what the US has done, blaming us for fudging COVID-19 numbers and spreading pollution in Los Angeles despite 'Howdy Modi' and 'Namaste Trump'?"

Question 2: "China, after the 'jhoola chai' party on the banks of the 'Sabarmati nadi', has betrayed us in Ladakh? What happened to the tenets and basics of diplomacy?"

Question 3: What will happen to Indian banks? Why were ICICI Bank and HDFC Bank forced to bail out YES Bank?

Question 4: Amritsar- and her other related rants…

Who knows the answers? I don't. I know only one thing. That the view to my left when I get up each morning is better than it was 20 years back. She is there, cute and serene. Sleeping. Effervescent and quiet. Quiet is good. Who can ask for more?

The writer is a communications consultant and a clinical analyst. [email protected]