I wish to be like them. I wish I could inculcate even a fraction of their energy, values, steadfastness and indomitable willpower. I see them trotting on the road waiting for the light to turn red, a stick in their hand, determined to take them to the other side. They aren't fashion or brand conscious; instead, they're conscious about being good, doing good and sharing good. They're conscious of values and espouse these values to their children. They don't declare their love on social networking sites; its so evident in their eyes and actions, after all! There's an element of shyness in their expression of love for their spouse, devoid of shout and display in the public; yet, they celebrate jubilees of togetherness. They aren't literate with degrees in graduation, management or philosophy, yet they are EDUCATED. Parents. Few of them. All of them. Them. My parents. Our parents.

Law's just ice cold; it either melts under the lure of money, position and power, or succumbs to its own set of unreasonably weird and medieval set of rules! Tomorrow a brutal r***** will be set free on grounds of being "juvenile" with a support package to start a new life! A country that speaks of being a world power and vies for a seat on the UNSC, is unable to protect the rights of all those just. An elaborate set of laws, a well-oiled machinery and qualified and competent set of Govt reps; all HELPLESS. Irony. I hang my head in shame.

16 December 2012. Remembering Nirbhaya, even as the case drags on. The “juvenile” will walk free on 20 December with a support package announced for his "reform". What’s changed? The Government and the Opposition who mirror each other. Every thing else remains the same. Or even worse.

I am looking for a job. In Ahmedabad, though, I prefer to be based in Bombay, and commute aboard the Bullet train, daily. During monsoon, I will work from Home, since Bombay will become Chennai, and “Amdavad Fast, yard mein jaayegi". Ecocomically speaking, I feel the "Amdavad Fast" scores over about-to-crumble footover bridges, remarkably over-crowded-filled-to-the-brim compartments, leaking bogies, infested meals and accident-prone journeys. 4 elections, 18 announcements, and many “Bhoomi Khojan” later, the 7 metro routes in Bombay still remain on paper, since, “memorial” constructions are in-progress. Hence, I decided to make a job-change decision to please myself, Abe and Japan. Of course, a few billion-dollar questions linger: when will Nawaz become Sharif? When will Xi stop playing Pakistan’s Jinping? What is Vadra’s real estate of mind? Will Irani regain Smriti and come alive as Faketa Bharpoor’s “Bahu” after 5 years? What happens to Uddhav if Devendra becomes Narendra? Finally, the big question: will $15 billion still translate into Rs.98,000 crore given the rupee’s bullet train slide? Huh?

2002. There was no bakery at the alleged accident site. Toyota was still awaiting a nod from the authorities for Landcruiser’s official launch in India. Salman was pursuing black bucks in Jodhpur. Since it was a Hill Road, there couldn’t be a footpath. People slept on the roads, then. They sleep on the roads, now. Nobody died. Ravindra Patil was alive, then; he’d be dead if he were alive today. Vivek was Salman’s friend. Salman was far from evolving into Being Human. Abhishek knew who Aishwarya was. Aishwarya knew who the Big B was. Galaxy Apartments was a residential address. Modi was the CM of Godhra, er, Gujarat. He flew kites. Alone. Singh “sangh” Sonia’s song. 2002. Court premises were dating sites, then; they remain no more than a dating site, now.

Every time the 6.47 local is "scheduled to arrive late" on platform number 1 at Ghatkopar station, I look up the skies at the mind-Boeing 787. And the flights taking off from the airport nearby. And the passengers who must have entered through the departure terminal at Vile Parle, secured a boarding pass, cleared security checks before boarding the airport shuttle, which then must've navigated all the way to Andheri, before it returned to Vile Parle, prior to it’s final halt ...somewhere between Santa Cruz and Vile Parle. And then, the plane that became Airbus, moving from Vile Parle to Andheri to Vile Parle, prior to a 20-minute “Qatar” before it could be airborne from Santa Cruz. Thankfully, I am in one place; on the platform. The train arrives. I yell, shout and swear, hoping that at least 1 of the 8,000 passengers inside compartment number 8 will hear me. One obliges. The train chugs along, while a plane descends from heavens above. Hmm, what if the Indian Railways was run by the Ministry of Civil Deviation?

Rainy day. Citizens open their purses, homes and hearts with no bias towards religion, caste, gender or political-inclination. Life resumes. Once again, wading through waters for a livelihood. Relief package worth 1000-crore, announced. Like the one, last year. And all the years preceding last. Yet, Bombay repeats in Chennai in December. Yet, Chennai repeats in Bombay in July. August. September. Yet, for “Gods” who can’t play saviours, Chennai continues to seek “Her” aimlessly within the secured confines of Poes Garden or within elaborate temples erected in “Her” name, while Bombay swears by the frightening fortresses of Bandra’s Kala Nagar and commemorates a memorial for "Him" by the Sea. Bole toh, baarish ne “sher” ko bhi aisa hila daala, na amma thi na Bala, dono ke ghar pe tha taala, oopar dekha toh ghumrela tha helicopter mein dono, saala!

The image of India appears to be positive, abroad. Back Home, it would be even better no? With a positive photo-op in my mind, I set out for the nearby grocery store. The owner quoted 200 for dal and 60 for tomatoes. I reminded him about the positive image of the country abroad and requested a discount; he declined to negotiate. I exited the store cursing him, my salary and my fate; how I wished I was Aamir. Ouch! Anyway, I continued to take solace in the country’s positive i...mage abroad, and realized how a pothole-riddled road outside my Home has been under a tri-weekly maintenance for the last 5 years; atleast someone cares! I hailed an autorickshaw for a 3 km ride Home; he declined. But then, he, too, seemed to be buoyed by the country’s positive image abroad, and offered me a ride for a minimum 35 kms. I declined. He sped away. On CNG. Enroute, I visited a Ram temple (oh no!) to seek more information on image v/s reality. I attained nirvana: the image was my imagination of standing before God’s idol; the reality was the VVIP queue. Bole toh, ab ki baar dhoti sarkaar, kuch na mile toh positive image se hi pet bharle yaar!

Tendulkar. Dhoni. Both, Gifted with Hon ranks in the airforce and the army, respectively. Both, Hon captains. In the airforce and the army, respectively. Both, very “Aamir”; after all, this country gave them more than they imagined or perhaps even asked for. Now that they’re a part of the defence forces, will they still promote and play cricket with a neighbour whose mortars and continued shelling claim lives and severed heads of our brave battalions, daily? At times, I wonder, ain’t it sheer blunder to waste the Indian forces’ thunder, who bravely face enemy Guns relentlessly firing up North, while the countrymen rejoice a popcorn series, down under?

Aamir Khan, I support you. As a devoted son to a 70-year old mother, who has entered the 2nd childhood in her life, I fear for her safety, while I am away at work. As a doting “Mama” to two adorable kids back Home – my nephew and niece – I fear for their safety and well-being, even when they’re at school. As an ardent devotee of “Maryada Purshottam” Ram, I fear when His name is evoked to stoke communal disharmony. I fear when the convict juvenile in Nirbhaya case nears his release date. I fear of a back lash if I don’t speak and understand the language of a “Rashtra”. I fear if my salary will be able to match the rising prices of essential commodities 3 months later. The fear repeats; every 5 years, irrespective of the party in power. As for those in power and all those who support, I’d like to extend an invite to all of them and their kin, minus the massive security cordon, “Bas kuch din toh guzaar kar dekho tum raat mein”!

Mr.Bond, my apologies for having missed the Spectre of your histrionics; you see, the cost of the movie ticket was sO mega, that I thought to buy 1 kg tur dal and 100 gms tomatoes instead of a 007 ticket. That said, I have a few themes to suggest for your next flick: Why did Kejriwal hug Laloo? Why did Modi hug Pawar? Is Rahul, Gandhi? Why did Manmohan always keep mum? Does Sonia make Idli? Did Iran's Smriti fail when she mentioned that she studied at Yale? Kaunse class mein kabhi bahu thi? When will real estate be priceless? Why don’t Government reps give up subsidy and sponsorship? Why does the 6.06 pm Thane local run 7 minutes late, daily? How do the likes of Mallya manage to be on-the-fly, despite his airline being grounded? What’s the source from where lizards and insects find their way into mid-day meals? Why are Presidency elections of all other sports, except cricket, conducted in a peaceful atmosphere? Finally, what did a radically-transformed Osama Bin Laden tell Gandhi, when they met for God's "Mann ki Baat" townhall up there? You got it; "Mahatma, don’t bother with the Nation".

Not one to undermine the gruesome attacks in Paris, I wonder if I will/ever have expressed the (symbolic!) “solidarity” by changing my profile photo with a backdrop of the Indian tricolor, in view of countless patriot jawans giving up their lives in the service of the nation, DAILY, while battling terror that lurks "baaju mein". Did I express my solidarity with farmers of Vidarbha and elsewhere in India, whose daily toil brings food on my table? No. Do I ever stand up to help and express my solidarity with someone dying on the road (Nirbhaya, remember?) No, since “I’ve got a train to catch” and “need to avoid policing trouble”. Even today, there are millions of children and women slaughtered in Iraq, Syria and Afghanistan, including those killed “inadvertently” through bombing of hospitals and schools by a World Power, that's also responsible for the chaos in the Middle East, as well as doling out gazillions in cash and arms to our cricket-playing-terror-breeding-neighbor who uses these funds to fund terror attacks on the Indian soil. Solidarity. So, will I give up the Great American Dream as a MARK of solidarity? No. No? Kya yaar, Solidarity mein bhi Disparity.

Weapons of Massacre and Death (WMDs) in Afghanistan, Lebanon, Nigeria, Iraq and Syria. Conceptualized. Designed. Manufactured. Funded. By USA. Tested. In Bombay, Nairobi, Paris, Egypt etc. Upcoming test locations: unknown. So, Oil's Well, Mr Bush? Yes? Not really, after Saddam Who's Slain.

दिवाली, हमने तुझे अंधेरों में रौशनी के दिए जलाते देखा है, ज़िन्दगियों में खुशियों की बहार लाते देखा है, एक आशा की लौ को जगाते हुए देखा है, किसी की नम आँखों में तो कभी छोटी खुशियों की फुहारों में, कहीं भूक में तो कहीं अनाज की मिठास में, धरती पर बहती हवाओं में, समंदर की लहरों के उफानों में, एक झुग्गी की छत से लेकर महलों की दीवारों में, रिश्तों में, अपनों में, परायों में, चमकते सितारों में, छुपे हुए बादलों के गलियारों में, हमने तुझे, या शायद तेरी ही जैसी एक रौशनी का इंतज़ार करते देखा है - सागर शर्मा

My mother tolerates me and my tantrums. Parents tolerate children tolerate parents. Relatives (barely) tolerate one another. Hindus tolerate azaan from nearby mosques, while Muslims tolerate sound of crackers in Diwali, loudspeakers on Ganesh Chaturthi, and chimes of bells from the nearby Ram temple (ouch!); all other religions tolerate everything in-between. The girl on the road tolerates lewd comments and gestures; Nirbhaya’s parents continue to tolerate pain and agony of “taareek pe taareek”. HR tolerates admin tolerates sales tolerates IT tolerates payroll tolerates CEO; bosses and subordinates tolerate one another, while clients tolerate delays. A 200-capacity compartment tolerates a 4,000 peak-hour load. Mother Nature tolerates deforestation. Vidarbha and Marathwada tolerate the annual drought despite 50000 crore+ spent. There’s tolerance in long queues at the grocery store, railway station, bus stops, vegetable markets, Government offices and employment exchanges. I tolerate “stupid pedestrians” who cross the road in a hurry; the pedestrians tolerate me, the “idiot” who jumped the signal. Tolerance resonates in PASSIVE traffic jams caused due to convoys of red beacon cars. There’s tolerance in everything from “Mann Ki Baat” to “Ban ki Barsaat”. So, where’s the intolerance? Shah, rukh, Kuch Kuch Bolta Hai?!

NASA, You’re Not Alone. I, too, am baffled as to how Mangalyaan at Rs.7/km costs less than the daily conveyance from Borivali to Badlapur! Of course, I realize what our Hon FM must’ve thought when he fixed the transport allowance at 1600 rupees per month; perhaps, he thought that, you know, we, too, travel Interstellar, daily! Found water on Mars, I hear? Do they also grow tur dal there (Matt Damon, The Martian, remember?) Don’t get me wrong, I ask since pulse prices are, astronomically speaking, stratospherically so sky-high, they appear to be importing from Mars. By George, where's Gravity on Earth? Huh?

Hindu. Muslim. Dalit. Brahmin. Sunni. Shia. Protestant. Orthodox. Caste. Religion. Language. Come on, we all squeeze ourselves in the same compartment, every morning and evening, braving the rush hour and sweat, while fretting about everything wet. We travel on the same road, every day; there is no way one can distinguish a Hindu from a Muslim in that massive traffic jam. A Tiwari (Ouch!) motor-mans the 7.04 Karjat fast? Refuse to board, will ya? A Patil drives me to the nearest railway station every morning and evening; I pay the full fare :-) In times of accidents and crisis, we don’t have a quota system to allocate more money for dead and injured basis caste and religion (why do have quotas for jobs, even now?!) A Hindu pays Rs.200 for a kg tur dal, and so do Christians, Muslims, Parsis, Sikhs etc. At times, we occupy the table at a favourite joint, that might have been previously occupied by someone from another religion, caste and gender; was it a Khan who made Sharmas favourite Dal Makhani on their wedding anniversary? What’s the caste and religion of farmers who nurture the grains that we consume, every day? What was the religion of the “heart throb” on your most recent flight? All of us, cutting across religion, have families. We pay for electricity bills; none less than the other. Attend school. Have Monday morning blues without reservations. Struggle to make ends meet. Celebrate. Marry. Have children. Remain single. Flirt. Love. HUMAN. We all pay obeisance to an almighty in our own ways. We Believe in Faith. 300 years ago, a handful divided us, and manipulated generations. Grow up. School gaye ho na? Scored low in History? No problem. What about Civics?

A 5-year-old girl brutally abused in New Delhi, the capital of India. Yet another incident in a city, the epicentre of a (self-proclaimed!) wannabe world-power, that headlines about a growing GDP, stable Government, Mars missions, bullet trains and cries hoarse for a nomination on the United Nations Security Council! Governments come. Governments go. If the city - residence to the President of India, one (supposedly) popular Indian Prime Minister and Forbes-renowned women in power and opposition - witnesses such gruesome crimes without any fear of law, then what happens elsewhere in the country, is simply unimaginable! We are celebrating Navratri at the moment, where we worship the almighty Goddess Mother, an incarnation of "Shakti". One sincerely hopes and prays that those in power and opposition realize that the FUTURE of this country, especially the girl child, needs much more than a mere selfie-with-daughter and annual women's day celebrations; we need to nurture the future on streets and inside Homes that are safe and secure. Where uncle, "bhaiya" and Daddy, Shield. Not force the FUTURE to yield.

Snapkart and Flipdeal, could you please add tur dal and all other varieties of dal under a new, flamboyant and amazon “pulse racing” section? Affirmative? Then, could you also include an EMI option per kilo, if possible? In the interim, yeh Diwali, Dal waali; na khaoonga, na khaane doonga.

Buoyed by repeat announcements of a Metro connecting Bombay and Thane, I promise my 6-year-old niece that I will take her for a ride the day the Metro is inaugurated, which, by experience, is most likely to coincide with her 25th birthday. She asks, why not earlier? I relent in response to her repeated questioning, and take her to the location where the “Bhoomipujan” was scheduled to take place last year, but was rescheduled to some time, next year. She isn’t overjoyed, and asks, what if the Metro isn’t ready for the inaugural ride on her 25th birthday? Hey, we also see a brand new multi-storey slum settlement in and around the location where the “Bhoomipujan” was to take place; what’s more, the settlement has a temple, too (Mandir wahin banayenge, remember?!) Banners of upcoming high-rises adorn the skyline nearby, advertising “1 BHK at a starting price of Rs.1 crore ONLY (!)”. Thankfully, it’s evening, and I show her the stars; drawing inspiration from those who made the (proposed) Metro announcement, I console my niece: “beta, Mat ro, if not the Metro, at least the girders will be in place”. By the way, Kahin door jab tur (dal) mil jaye, praan jaaye aur bacha na jaye!

Vajpayee's stature and statesmanship. Singh's intellect. Shastri's honesty. Nehru's Vision. Maulana's roar. Vallabhbhai's iron fist. Bhagatsingh's patriotism. Ambedkar's dream. Bose's courage. Gandhi's revolution. Jee nahin, these days, it's about "Shaitani" ruler and "Devil" Opposition; leaders with grace and dignity in language and conduct are legendary! Iska Bi har OR Uska Bi har, koi bhi ho, hoti sirf hamari haar! By the way, say na, if the littérateurs of Sahitya Akademi wouldn't have done the Kasuri of returning their honors, then Bombay would've saved face from spilling ink? What brand of ink did you use? Huh? Daag Acche Hain? Yes? Aur Din?

6.31 pm. Kalyan Fast. General compartment. Midst the rush, a father and mother board the train with their kid of about 2 months. They shelter and protect the child from the rush of urban folk headed somewhere. The child starts to cry. The parents are concerned. The mother caresses the child with all the love and affection befitting the benevolence of a Mother. She covers the child with all her Saree. Midst the chaos, my thoughts go out to the helpless and wailing animals and their family served on a platter. For celebration. Garments. Footwear. Et al. Ironic? No? OK. I need to alight, while the child is still supremely hysterical. No man, no animal can, until there's a frying pan.

Once upon a time, when Mohan failed to be Man, despite being Sonia to all 3Gs and their Commonwealth coal, Nar decided to flex his 56" chest - "airy" or scary remains a lingering question - to show how to project India's Sundar Pichai to the world. Nar started off with a See-Public Day charade, er...parade, and extended his "C, IA" invite to a gum-chewing President, who ended up as a cheap guest to Wrigley his way through the entire ceremony! Having got the President in his Barack, Nar reminded Mohan of all the Vadra that the latter had failed to keep, though at a certain Modi, Nar somehow ended up following (10-lakh) suit, upholding "principles" of Raje, Swaraj and unke Munde, and all related dhan ki baat. Currently, Nar is on a mission to spread a positive image of India in the USA, who, themselves are on drone missions to Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq, Iran, Saudi, China, Japan, Red Sea, Mount Everest, Indian Ocean, space, moon (?) etc! In his quest to seek a stamp of approval (cave mentality, anyone?) from the richest country on this planet, Nar also pulls aside Mark Shutterbugs. An image is created. in USA. For all internal updates on image and action (?) in Varanasi, "Grams" of Vidarbha, Marathwada, hinterlands of India, Nirbhaya's bus in Delhi, bylanes of Bombay, 8.31 pm Virar Fast, surpassing prices of dal, chawal and atta, and progress on the nearby flyover, just Google, why fire?

The arrival of the Lord marked the revival of a dormant monsoon; its been raining in Maharashtra, since day one of Ganeshji's arrival. The areas that were declared drought-affected are witnessing a heavy downpour. No technology, however advanced it may be, predict nature's surprises and the almighty's gift for her children. Faith can change fate. Even on a receding monsoon date. Believe. Try karke toh dekho.

He gave up a London practice to fight the might of an Empire whose sun was famed never to set. He spent half his life in a dhoti, walking miles for days, fasting weeks, and lodged in jail for months. These days managing teams is a KPI; He mobilized 300 million people, in times when there was no social media, since Zuckerberg was still a young lad in his previous birth! Gandhi. I wonder, if all those who criticize him from the cordons of Z-plus security and public-sponsored palatial mansions, ever lead a life of dhoti-clad austerity, the way He did? Partition? Well, we have an even bigger exercise in partition these days in the name of religion, caste, money, real estate, language, gender, etc; all these are being spread in the most vicious manner by his own lineage and critics alike! Gandhi. Bande mein tha dum. Nahin maante? No problem.

INX Media presents, the 300-crore lacklustre that visually FX: Teen Fool, ek Indrani aur ek transfer. Starring in 3-Dimensional order: Das, Khanna, Mukerjea. Special guest disappearance: Sheena. Child artists: Mikhail, Vidhie, Rahul. Produced by: Indrani. Co-Producers: Siddhartha, Sanjeev, Peter. Directed by: one driver. Plot: Raigad. Witnesses: A cop who buried the cops, err, corpse. Flashback: 3 years ago. Current location: Khar police Station and Bandra court. Music: Bombay Police. Lyrics: O Maria! O Maria! O Maria! Courtship period to begin soon. Expected number of years to run: 25. All frights reserved.

The unmtimely and tragic demise of a child wakes up the world to take note of the "migration" issue. Back home, Bombay has it's own "complex" problem of "migrant population", that seeks refuge in it's narrow gullies, water-pipelines, makeshift shanties, etc, since they did not have the fortune and privilege of being born here. They come here for a better future, only to be beaten up and discriminated against. I wonder, how a hue-and-cry is created when an Indian is beaten up mercilessly or discriminated against in a foreign land. However, the same powers-that-be turn a blind eye when their State coalition partner resorts to arm tactics threatening and abusing citizens in their own country, on grounds that "migrants" dirty the city! Of course, those spreading hatred, also permit proliferation of slums for these "migrants" for a few lakhs per shanty per month! Simple politics: divide and drool. By the way, aren't we all "migrants" on Earth? Huh? Phir Kyon tumne Maraa-tha-badaa?

Ecocomically speaking, soon, none will have any scope left to waste food in the company cafeteria on grounds of "poor quality" (atleast it's some notches above the worm-infested meals served to India's future millions in their midday lunch). It would be disappointing for a lot of cool and suave urban inhabitants, since they won't have any opportunity to leave behind left-overs following lunch/dinner outings and team gatherings. Er, how will lavish marriage meals happen? How will star airlines, lounges and hotels serve their guests sumptuous cuisines? What will the couple eat when they they step out for a date? How will mummy cook that favorite dish of mine? The answers to some of these questions lie somewhere buried in the hinterlands of India, midst vast farms of rabi, kharif, rice, pulses and vegetables, where a Producer of fuel for India's growing Human Resources, commits suicide, Sunday to Saturday, leaving his orphaned family behind. So mate, the next time you fill your plate, don't abandon food on pretext of a full "pet"; simply think like a jawaan, who cares for his Kisan, and change your mano-vigyan. After all, Jiye Kisaan, (hence) jiye jawaan.

When a media honcho discovers that his wife allegedly murdered her own sister, er daughter, while being involved in multiple affairs in real life, he calls his wife a "psychopath". Incidentally, the media honcho in discharge of his duty as the Head of a private TV channel permitted junk saas-bahu TV serial-killers that openly promoted promiscuity, (rampant) marital abuse, multiple marriages and affairs, incestuous relationships et al, in the name of "Kahani Ghar Ghar Ki"; so much for being Indraxicated with TRPs!

It's truly amazing how our dadiji and dadaji (grandparents for everyone English) never needed any fairness cream to "get that glowing skin"; they lived past 80 and 90 with a glowing clean-and-clear complexion. Can't but imagine, growing up midst rulers who had a "white skin", and yet, not getting carried away by the lure of it. Substance. No radio. No TV. Computers were virtually unheard of. Internet, what was that? No mobile phones and social networks. Yet, they remained in touch via the humble red letter box. Clear eye-sight, tooth intact, no need for a diet-based program, even past prime. We survive on artificial life-support systems; they nurtured a value-based family support system. We hear of three weddings and one daughter's funeral; they celebrated Golden Jubilees of togetherness. So, while we measure life in terms of expectancy and showcase it as a tech advancement, they simply lived it all in terms of a lifetime. No frills. No Jazz. Bole toh, baaton ke pakke aur langoti ke sacche!

Why invest only in Smart Cities, when we're evolving "even" smarter and "Self"hi driven ?! Bail and Jail are now synonymous with one another, and the day is near when online applications will be accepted for potential heinous crimes, with an instant bail approval; payment will be accepted only through hawalaa(t)! While lakes run dry, trees are felled, concrete jungles crop up in place of natural bounty, artificial rains take precedence over showers gifted by nature. Sycophancy supersedes merit. Precious expressions of "love" and "missing you" gestures, birthday greetings and wedding anniversaries, as well as relationships among spouses, siblings, parents-children, friends, etc are announced or prominently displayed on social networking websites for public perusal. On the one hand, every individual claims that the world has nothing to do with what he/she does or goes since it's their personal life, on the other hand, they post every thing from real-time travel plans, airport lounge photos (why not railway stations or bus stands, eh?!) honey-moon photos, etc, for world record and consumption! Heads of Governments are either quiet and it's presumed that they don't do anything, or they speak so much that it's presumed that they're doing everything. Maa Kasam, relationships are confined to annual one-day celebrations. Vulgarity is served as an "aesthetic shot". Hai na, Smart? Bas, baja. City.

So, does the CEO - who swears by a healthy lifestyle - of a global food giant indeed devour MSG-laden noodles like his billion consumers do? How many times in a decade does the CEO of a global softdrink company summon her children with a clarion call, "Beta Pepsicide Co la"? Kasam Maida karne wale ki, Yogi still gives his "Aashirwad" for 100% Maida, 0% Atta. Make in India, fine. Bake in India, perfect. Fake and forsake in India? Not OK, Please.

Apnon se door, Border par WOH jaate hain. Zakhmi WOH ho jaate hain. Goliyaan WOH khaate hain. Kahin kisi roz, hum anjaanon ke liye, Shaheed WOH ho jaate hain. Par Dilli mein baithe baithe taliyaan woh chahte hain? Anyway, hope and pray that our neighbour learns to act Sharif and stops Kashmir from becoming a TOURIRIST destination!

One, a Chartered Accountant. Another, a Scientist. One, privileged to have been born in Bombay, India's financial capital. Another, born in a fisherman cove, somewhere on the Southern tip of India. One, professional-turned-convict. Another, scientist-turned-President. One, terror. Another, glee and cheer. One, inventor of the bomb that kills. Another, inventor of the bomb that protects. Date, 30 July 2015. One, sentenced to hang-till-death by State. Another, to be accorded a State funeral with honors. One, Memon. Another, Kalam. Two lives, two journeys. One funeral. So real.

Rest, in peace. India's "misaal" men, at work. 2015 A.D. And ever after. Kalaam Sahab aur Gurdaspur ke Baljit Singh Sahab, hamari dua mein aapka naam, desh ki badhayi aapne shaan, hazaaron ki bachayi aapne jaan, aatankvaad ko kiya naakam, aapko hamara koti koti pranaam, aapko hamare lakhon salaam.

Investors, if you'd like to get the real tense, er, sense of doing business in India, you need not attend expensive 7-star conferences hosted by 15 ministers and 150 bureaurats (!) at taxpayer expense, instead please tune into Doordarshan (Hindi for video-conferencing) to view proceedings in the Indian Parliament, the world's largest democracy, where opposition and rulers (?) shout in unison, make an allegation, counter it with another allegation, damn the nation, while the electorate is lost in translation and millions starve for their daily ration! Bole toh, agar haath ka panja hamari taraf Modi, toh hum bhi Kamal ka phool khilane ka Vadra karte hain!

It’s the time of the year, when all Bombayites are requested to remain extremely careful while walking on roads and pavements, if any. This request hasn’t got to do with cars running on footpaths or negotiating potholes, an art that we have completely mastered, but more to do with upcoming “banner wars” that can be distracting what with faces and personalities (?) that can put the most (un)fair and ugly to shame! These self-anointed leaders will reincarnate, yet again this year, on gargantuan posters, welcoming one and all on behalf of God (!), striking a pose and pointing in a direction that appears completely directionless, adorning fancy clothing, hair styles, make-up and expensive jewels that will be worth Lakhme! Raghupati Raghav, dekho Ram, aapse bhi bada ho gaya insaan!

Hey Greece, why Euro? Mat Ro. Lack Money? India's got Black Money. Just ask your PM to visit India and schedule a meet with an Indian Mantriji, who can put the entire EU to shame, by extending a massive rehab package worth zillions, a fraction of her/his wealth, and repayment options exceeding 100 years! What's more, the rehab package can be customized in a variety of currencies, viz, the USD, Euro, Yen, etc....Commonwealth, you see? Though, of course, if the Greek PM wishes to save on travel time to India, he can also dial-in a number; just say, "Hello Namo, er, LaMo..."

Yes Minister, empowerment of women is an imperative. Though, as one who claims to lead by example, would you qualify Vasundhara's (Dholpur palatial) Smriti and Pankaja's (chikki?!) Swaraj as the epitome of women leadership? Come on, tell more about their "dhan ki baat". On a related note, any "Middle East" plans for those who click-and-post selfiewithdaughters, while prying for another's daughter? Sister. Wife. Mother. Aunt. Girl child. Yes? SAU(rab)DI?

Pedestrians in Bombay are far-sighted. Hence, they walk on the road to avoid being run over by vehicles that are driven on footpaths, and walk on the railway track to avoid trains climbing on to the platform. By the way, "Locals" seem to be running riot these days to avoid "outsiders" (read, bullet trains) taking their place; how technology apes man? Hey literally, woh dekho, "platform number chaar ki gaadi, platform number chaar par aa rahi hai!"

And as those in power, and those thirsting for it are at constant loggerheads as to who met whom met Modi met Swaraj met Vasundhara met Dushyant met Kaushal met Modi met Priyanka met Vadra met Modi met Jaitley, elsewhere in India that ELECTED them, a farmer contemplates suicide; a woman is physically abused; a hefty bribe is paid to get a ration card; people continue to hope for "acche din" with 24-hour electricity and clean drinking water; potholes get deeper; traffic worsens; rickshaw-drivers say "No" to ply; bail is granted for a serious offence; infested meals are served under the midday meal scheme; doctors strike work until demands are met; illegal transactions happen via hawala; parents shell out their hard-earned money for a (hefty) donation to admit their children in school; builders extend their promise of flat possession by another 4 years...et al...et al! By the way, midst all this meeting business, can those in power Be Human and meet me on "humanitarian grounds"? No? Tweet about me? No? Meet you? No?! Tweet about you? No?! Why?!

A wet-and-warm invite to all Geologists studying Black Holes and how they can enable time travel. Please visit Bombay, the financial capital of India, that spends INR 35,000 crore every year on their creation and up..er, downkeep. On viewing these black holes, does one realize how the earth's crust looked like millions of years ago; went back in time, didn't ye? And once you've gone back in time, please meet Charles and tell him how humans in a city are rapidly evolving into ...cattle-class amphibians, with their skills to wade through neck-deep waters with dexterity! Oceanographers, you'd be puzzled by the annual "Sangam" of the Powai and Vihar lakes meeting the Arabian Sea, right in the middle of a busy road! And above all, those looking to make a career in Public Relations, please learn your lessons from a Government that "manages" it's affairs via tweets for every thing - from allegations to celebrations, and congratulations to condolences. Ouch!

Ssshmaa, in all extra...er, external affairs, always keep the Lalit card close to the chest! Of course, every day and every hour, you've got the Visa power, yet, na jaane kahaan aur kis Modi pe Swaraj ka ticket kat jaaye?! By the way, it's interesting to see different meanings, interpretations and outcomes (!) of "Being Human", "Humanitarian", in contrast to those I learnt in the school Moral Science textbook...or has the curriculum changed? Smriti? Huh?

(Jhumla!) Baatein toh acche din ki thi, raat ko toh Janhavi Gadkar bhi Salman superstar hai! Arre, ab toh uske paas bhi ek Audi car hai, pee-poo (!) ke woh nikli wahaan, jin raaston par kai gareeb aur bekaar parivaar hain...jee haan, uss car par Jaan-havi savaar hai, jab woh peeye beshumaar hai...uff, dekho, uss caar ke pahiyon par khoon ki bauchar hai, gyarah km tak kanoon ko kiya dar-kinaar hai...maar diya toh darna kya, media, eyewitness, Reliance on her, Jaan-havi ke paas paison ki bharmaar hai!

"Beti bachao, Beti padhao" ka naara toh sab deta hai, par Nar(endra) se (Som)Nath tak har koi emotional atyachaar karta hai! By the way Jitendra, Tomar Smriti mein Kaunse Class mein Kabhi Bahu Thi? Yale? Or Fail?!

My brethren continue to deposit our, er, their zillions in the safe havens of Swiss Alps, drive your economy (er, Zurich-headquartered FIFA included!), and still you "LEAD" me to believe in your 2-minute Money-Spinning-(G)lootomate (MSG) noodles?! Nestle SA toh nahin hota, I mean, how could you think it would be funny to play with my tummy with ads that show infested noodles to be a "bas 2 minute" favorite of my Mummy?!

Aai yo, it’s crime, er, time to celebrate! Amma bin Chennai kahaan re…..hira nahin (?), chandi nahin (?), kuch na mila (?), woh toh ghar chali re! Ssshh….ssshhh….ssshhh….Sushamma, Vana-kam in BJP? Together, we’ll 'frame" the law that (only) appear Rajni, and when punishment appears So-nia, it becomes Ghajini!

Hon. Health  and Law Ministers of Delhi, I understand you and the team are in midst of an "ajeeb jung" and Gamlin with power at the moment! Though, I would still like to draw your attention towards a convict - Sohanlal Bharatha WALMIKI - who assaulted a nurse with a dog chain in a Bombay hospital more than 40 years ago; he served a (mere) 7-year jail sentence, released and now works in the capacity of a ward boy in a Delhi hospital! Given Walmiki's (are the "pracharaks" listening?) expertise with dog chains and his condemnable criminal antecedents, hope you take note of this RAW information and take appropriate measures; after all, when it comes to law, health and well-being, prevention is always better than cure!

Aruna Shanbaug. Born, 1947. Dead, 1973. India. Born, 1947. In vegetative state, ever since.

Sir, I thought to share with you the news in this morning's newspapers that made my day, "accha din"; news on new car model launches from luxury stables with a starting price of INR 1.5 crore and INR 40 lakh, respectively! Now that these mean machines have made been affordable to a class of people, however small, I, of the riddle-class, thought to update you on the ex-showroom prices of dal, chawal, sabzi, roti, CHAI (tea, remember?), sugar, dude, er, doodh, being displayed at highly discounted and unaffordable rates; though, newspapers remain affordable, until now - I read them online, no! By the way, Sir, is the safety of these new mean machines priceless on-road? Yes? For the common man or Salman?

Wanted. A driver who can demarcate a road from a footpath. A singer who can be a thinker and demonstrate minimal IQ by differentiating between people and canine; a celebrity who chooses between being human and acting divine. A fan who separates a mass entertainer from a murderer. A law that distinguishes a victim from a convict. A state-of-mind that does NOT accord preferential treatment to a celebrity murderer since the deceased is “only one” pavement dweller. Bole toh, kanoon ke haath bahut lambe hote hain, but midst crimes of Cheap Justice of India, sab (Jaya)Chalita hai; woh dekho Amma, (Satyam) Raju bhi Sallu nikal gaya!

Kamaal karte hain (Judge) Deshpandeji, tera saal baad jo aap ne judgement de di, phir bhi main aapki nahin sunta; hum iss case mein itne ched kar denge, ki Bombay High Court bhi confuse ho jayega ki gaadi footpath pe chali ya road pe! Dekha nahin aapne, ho gayi chhutti, mil gayi bail, ab kal bhi hum nahin gaye jail, ek baar phir kanoon ho jayega fail, when big money’s on sale!

Justice delayed; blame the judiciary. Justice denied; blame the judiciary. Justice DELIVERED; blame the judiciary? By the way, let’s pledge not to drink and drive, lest we end up asking ourselves one May, Maine Maar Kyon Diya?!

Sire, She is a mother, sister, wife, friend, an adorable daughter to doting parents, colleague and above all, a free (?) citizen of a modern India (by the way, checked out rural hinterlands, eh?!), that commissions billion-dollar deals for fighter jets and submarines, envisages smart cities, speaks volumes of a technology-driven revolution, improved S&P (Standardised & Poor) ratings, reduced def-is-it?, improved GDP (Gross Domestic Poverty!), etc, and yet is unable to provide Her with a sense of security. Moga. Delhi. Bombay. Bangalore. Calcutta. Goa. Board a bus? Or train? Hail a cab? Use the elevator? 5-star or no-star. Kindergarten to Khar Market, the question lingers. Sire, Rafale speaking, as part of your extensive travel itinerary, it would be wise to include the "Chop Chop Square" in KSA and leverage their best practices to be customized and introduced in India; after all, Sire, a Happy Journey should always culminate into a desired destination, and not be misguided by an Uber app, huh?

News and views emerging from an AGM (All-Gods-Meeting) indicates serious physical and emotional trauma and injury to Mahavir, Buddha, Ram, Rahim, Christ and all members of the August body, who have been continuously desecrated, abused and tortured by their own children in the name of “religion” - a concept that the AGM has been unable to decipher, yet. Insiders inform that the status quo on AGM being unable to decode the meaning of “religion” is likely to continue until eternity, and hence all have been advised to adopt the common preaching of love, respect, compassion and peace, failing which, Maa Earth has been granted the authority to firmly “Hila maya” of the children, without any bias towards religion or their status based on the Rich(t)er or poor pray-scale!

Ne Pal, 7.9 will appear frail, when nature’s on a sail to sur-Mount an Everest rich(t)er scale.

Prying time? can they make it mandatory to promote Hockey, Kho-Kho, Kabaddi, Wrestling & football on par with Cricket!

Whatever happened to Thy Choice? Anyway, Deepika Paado Kam :-)