A 'Fine' Trip

This has been a long time (6 years) coming. Any talks about Goa and I start reminiscing about my own maiden trip. We remember that trip as a ‘fine’ trip. Watch out, the word ‘fine’ has a completely different connotation here. I thought it would be wise to dump the epic-ness of this trip on Google, rather than trusting my own frail memory. After all, we don’t want to mess up the facts on ‘who messed up’, ‘how we messed up’ and ‘how much we messed up’. But don’t get me wrong, in hindsight, it was a hell of a trip. Now, wasn’t it, guys? Read on…

Goa is the Mecca for people who go to Manipal. It is a pilgrimage you have to take every year (twice) to de-stress, unwind, enjoy, soak the sun, smoke the pot but most importantly to build these kind of unforgettable memories. We were no different from the other pilgrims. Out of all the Goa journeys, first one was the stand out. Well, yes, it was the first one. So the obvious palpable excitement. Yes, we were the youngest at that time. So the obvious naiveté. If I ever need proof of the fact that a man matures with age, I look at my Goa trips chronologically.

I remember how most of us didn’t even turn up for last paper of the ‘sessionals’. We were too excited to think of trivial things such as writing a paper. As far as memory & the few photographs that I still have aid me, we were ten people – Myself, Jong, Roy, Saraf,  Roh, Peel, Mallu, Kushal, RP and Puri. It is remarkable how young we look in those pictures. I remember being pretty enthusiastic sitting on the benches of Udupi Railway station, waiting for the midnight train to Madgaon.  Excitement vaporized the minute our train whistled into the platform. Our general compartment was jam packed. I saw so many people, their multiple kids, luggage and more luggage everywhere. After a lot of jostling, we got in somehow.  To be honest, we were all a little flustered. We had been dreaming of beaches, turquoise-blue water, beef steak, bike rides and what not. Suddenly, we found ourselves pummeled to the front door of a bathroom, in the general compartment of an Indian train. Naturally, if anyone says he was totally unfettered, he is lying. In spite of the terrible discomfort of our own, we were all a little worried about Jong. We couldn’t fathom how any Korean can survive a four hour journey hemmed into a corner. Not entirely surprisingly, Jong, of all people taught us a thing or two about third class travel. In less than ten minutes, he was fast asleep on the floor. The other passengers begged him to move, some raised the tone occasionally but most of them just stared at his corpse like demeanor. He was in deep slumber. Somehow, it magically lifted the spirits of everyone else. We muttered to ourselves, if a Korean can find comfort here, shouldn’t we? By the way, let me get one thing straight, only his middle name is Kim, not his first name. One by one, all of us started putting ourselves into comfortable positions. The 4-hour journey was much shorter than it seemed at first. Just at the break of dawn, we were in Goa.

We took a local bus from Madgaon to Colva where we planned to rent bikes for local commute. We were more excited about bikes than Goa itself. Of the ten people, only me, Kushal and Mallu knew how to ride a bike properly. The others were happy with Honda Activa. If I remember correctly, we hired a couple of bikes and three scooters. I was riding one of the bikes, Kushal rode the other one. I remember Puri really vouching for me as an able driver on one of the bikes. So I honored his trust by letting him sit behind me. Neither the trust, nor the honor quite lasted more than a couple of minutes. On the very first turn, my front wheel skid, both me and Puri were bundled in a heap on the road, beneath the motorcycle. I didn’t even make it past the first turn or the prying eyes of the bike owner. In as much disbelief as disgust, I got up and tried to pass the blame on some guy who rode past me just before the fall of shame. Right, behind me, Roh burst into his usual sly laughter. The other guys just looked on, amazed. Now amidst this entire roadside comedy created by me, Puri was still stuck under the wheel of the bike unable to get up. It wasn’t until much later that internal injuries skewed his walk forever but I suspect this could have been the starting point.

We shook off the little fall incident behind us and sped on the Madgaon-Panjim Highway. Kushal was undoubtedly the fastest driver by a mile. I was a little more cautious. The guys on the scooter were slow and steady to start off but they found their gears in no time at all. Now in my part of the World - Bihar, there are no police patrols on the highway. Then again, it can be justifiably argued that there are no highways in my part of the World. Or tourists for that matter. Goa, is a little different and I realized it that morning. On the way to Goa, at least two of our vehicles were stopped by the Traffic Police. We were fined five hundred bucks a piece for not carrying the Driver’s License. That was a hefty price to pay at our trip budget. Forget trip budget, it was a hefty price to pay at our monthly budgets.

If our spirits were dampened just a little bit, there were uplifted again on reaching Baga. The beach looked beautiful. It was crowded but with gorgeous foreigners. The calm waters in Goa make it a water sport haven. We tried Para-gliding, the water scooter and a few other things. It seems to be much more fun than it actually is. Funnily enough, all of us even got those black-paint local tattoos made either on our biceps or the back of our necks. I can be a cent-percent sure that none of us ever got those tattoos made on any of the subsequent visits to Goa. Time just flies in Goa. No wonder they call it the Rome of the East. At night, we rode all the way from Baga to Panjim – the Capital. The city of Panjim looks beautiful at night. Adorn by the floating, glittering casinos in the Mandovi River, the city retains an extremely Portugese look even today. I remember driving along the Miramar Beach all the way to Dona Paola. I also remember someone running out of Petrol on the way. I just can’t recall who. On the way back, we had some delectable North Indian dinner in a Dhaba near Old Goa. I liked that place so much that I have gone there on my every Goa trip. Now here is another interesting story I remember. Just before the trip, Jong sprained his wrist either trying to climb the roof of the hostel or in some other equally freakish incident. He wore a plaster around his wrist and was dejected about not being able to ride the bike on those beautiful roads of Goa. On our way back from Old Goa, Jong suddenly decided that he had enough of the sprain. He got his hands out of the plaster and started revving up the bike. And surprisingly, he felt no pain at all.

Next day, we wanted to see the Aguada Fort. The word among novices coming to Goa for the first time is that the iconic scene from ‘Dil Chahta Hai’ where the 3 protagonists sit atop a perch and look at a ship near the horizon was shot here. Although this is completely untrue, we ended up having a hilarious time there.  On the way to the fort, Mallu rammed his bike against the rocks on one side of the road while taking one of the numerous steep blind turns. Luckily, nothing really happened to the bike or to the driver. However, Puri was once again the victim of a crime he didn’t really commit. Everyone else had gone inside the fort and I was waiting with Kushal at the entrance. When Mallu didn’t turn up for some time, we thought we ought to go back and check. At the very first turn, we saw a large crowd. We spotted Mallu trying to rub dirt off his trousers. We looked around but couldn’t really spot Puri. For a moment, we thought he fell off the cliff on the other side of the road. Luckily, we spotted him moments later struggling to get up on his feet. Back at the fort, when everyone came to know about this little mishap, we felt really sorry for Puri. He seemed to be in a great deal of pain. I believe it was Roh or Peeli who asked him where he hurt himself. For all his pain and agony, he didn’t have a single scratch on his body to show for it. I remember how Puri tried to label it as an ‘internal injury’.

Sun-glasses kept passing from one pair of eyes to the other as we all got our pictures clicked at the fort. Once this photography/laughter session ended, we came out of the fort. RP tried his hand at riding a bike outside the fort. He couldn’t get very far in spite of pushing the engine to its theoretical limits because he forgot the small matter of shifting gears. In the meantime, Roy and Saraf disappeared into the bushes on one of the Activa. Apparently, they went looking for peacocks. They were gone for a good 10-15 minutes and some of us were getting a little restless to make a move on. Out of the blue, Roy and Saraf emerged from the bushes. Both looked a little hustled, as they walked out gingerly. The biggest problem was that they weren’t riding the Activa, they were dragging it out. In one hand, Roy was carrying aloft one of the rear view mirrors. It turned out, they had a little mishap in the woods during their peacock chase.

On our way back to Baga, Roh & Saraf lost their way completely. It was about time Roh came into the story a little more prominently. Already low on fuel, he wandered off the route so badly that he claimed he was about to enter another State altogether. He might have exaggerated a little bit but he did take an eternity to re-unite with everyone else.

Back at Baga, we all put on our fancy clothes. We were all set to go to either Mambos or Titos. There was a small problem however that didn’t catch our attention until we were actually there. We didn’t have any girls, or a lot of money to make up for that loss. I remember how we tried to hook up with girls who could help us. It didn’t really happen. Jong, meanwhile raised the bar of desperation a wee bit higher. He talked to a girl (who it turns out, wasn’t really a girl) and all of us had to intervene and convince him of her flaws as a woman. Although, we never really made it inside the club that night, we ended up having a nice time on the beach. I am not entirely sure what we did there but it must have been fun because we went to CCD only at 4 AM to get a cup of coffee. And now the CLIMAX.

We had barely finished our cup of over-priced coffee. Suddenly, it occurred to someone that we have a limited number of beds back at the hotel. Tired as hell, the plan was simple – ‘Finish your coffee quickly, pick up your vehicle and get back to the rooms ASAP’. It was at that moment when Roy said those Legendary Words – “This calls for a RACE”. Who wouldn’t get sucked into that temptation at the end of a very long day? We ran down, some of us abandoning our half-full coffee cups. We raced. I remember it was me and Mallu who reached the hotel first. Kushal came in behind us and asked us to turn back . Mr Roy, riding alone had smashed his Activa with all its might against a stationary Lancer. We went back and to everyone’s relief, Roy looked unscathed after the crash. Unfortunately, same couldn’t have been said about his Activa, or the Lancer’s bumper. A couple of policemen were already at the site. The guy whose car we smashed was fuming. Locals gathered all around the car and it looked like a Goan crime scene.

It was only our good fortune that no one got hurt, not even as much a scratch. We paid some money to the guy whose car our ‘Race’ dented. We paid a lot more money to the guy whose bikes and scooters we rented. The trip was over. The bikes were returned, the money paid (after a lot of fiery negotiations). The hole in our pockets was so deep that we didn’t have money to buy a bottle of water at the end of it all. We headed straight to the platform, not a word said. We got into a local train and heaved a big sigh of relief. Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. Surely, it couldn’t get worse. We were heading back to our college – our sanctuary. And now the ANTI-CLIMAX.

No, there is no such thing as ‘Happy Endings’ (of course, unless you pay for it!!). As soon as we got out of the train at the Udupi Station, a Railways Policeman came up to us, he asked us to show him our tickets. It was as if the entire world was conspiring against a bunch of young men from college. The policeman didn’t really stop or check anyone else. Of all people, he just stopped us. To make matters worse, he wasn’t corruptible either. We ended up paying him another five hundred bucks each as our last fine. We had no fight left in us.

And that is why, we fondly refer to this as a ‘fine’ trip. It was legendary!!

Cheers!!

The Chadar Experience

Sitting by the side of the ferocious Zanskar river, the cold wind sending a chill down to my bones, I used to often wonder – as great as this trek is, why did I sign up in the first place? Time isn’t a scarce commodity on the Chadar since there are only a few viable hours in the day when you can walk on ice. So I thought really hard. And this is what I came up with. Three things ushered me into doing this – Indian cities are a mess (all of them, yes, even New Delhi), my friend’s (the one who told me about Zanskar) oratorical sufficiency and Zanskar ‘s (the word’s) phonetic appeal. Really, that was about it.

Zanskar isn’t just about the word’s phonetic appeal. The Zanskar Valley lies in the Kargil district of Jammu & Kashmir. ‘Padum’ with a population of about 1000 is its headquarter. The Zanskar Valley has numerous villages, mostly along the Zanskar River. ‘New York Times’ did a piece on Zanskar Valley in 2011 calling it – “One of the most beautifully guarded secrets of the world”. It is widely acknowledged that Zanskar is one of the coldest continually inhabited places in the world. In summers, you can take reach the Zanskar Valley from Kargil by road. The real adventure, however, is reserved for the harsh, unsettling & unforgiving  winter.

I flew into Leh from New Delhi. In winters, there is no other way to get to Leh or Zanskar. The Leh-Kargil highway (NH-1) is snow-barded. Similar is the fate of the iconic Manali-Rohtang-Leh route. The usually bustling town of Leh (the capital of Ladakh) is uncharacteristically somber during winters. Most of the shops/restaurants/cafés are shut down. The affluent Ladakhis migrate to Himanchal or Delhi. The town of Leh is all about bare minimums. And it is all about the ‘Chadar Trek’. Chadar is a local word for the sheet of ice that forms on the Zanskar River during winters. The intriguing thing about Chadar is its transient nature. One moment, your trek could be as unfettered as a ride on the NH-1, next moment, you could be holed up in a Himalayan cave – your only shield against a raging blizzard. 

Confluence of Zanskar and Indus

Chadar, till date remains the only option for locals living in the Zanskar Valley to reach Leh during the long winter season. The locals have been using this route for ages to commute and transport goods when mother nature shuts down all other gates. A one way trek along the frozen Zanskar River takes about 7 days for chigyalpas (foreigners, not from the Kingdom of Ladakh, as Ladakhis call us). Of course, the locals can do it in about half the time. One of the main charms of the Chadar Trek is its “no point of return disclaimer”. In case of a blizzard, an avalanche, rock-falls or melting of ice, there isn’t much you can do by the way of improvisation. Often the Indian Military has to send helicopters to rescue people and parry them away into more civilized areas.

I didn’t do the complete Chadar Trek from Chilling (65 Kms from Leh) to Padum. Instead, I did a slightly abridged version from Chilling to Nerak and back. The drive from Leh to Chilling is absolutely stunning. On a sunny day, the mountains turn mischievous with you. The assortment of colors you see on the mountains make you wish you never have to return. My favorite spot during the drive was a narrow gauge where the shadow of one mountain rested magically on the other even as the Zanskar magically whizzed past between the two of them. You pass by the village of Nimmu on your way to Chilling. It is here that you can see the confluence of Indus and Zanskar. The view from edge of the road down into the valley where Zanskar meets its great counterpart Indus is breathtaking to say the least. You can see the circuitous road going down into the valley and thereafter along the frozen Zanskar River. This is where I left the Leh-Kargil highway and took the muddy road – clearly the road less travelled by.

When sun was out for the first time, we took a break from the trek!!

About the trek itself now. I began from the first base camp – Tilat Sumdo and went on to Shingra Koma, Tibb and Nerak. Every single day on the Chadar is different from the one gone by. The first part of the trek, all the way to Nerak was a walk in the park. Even though the weather kept playing spoilsport and it snowed heavily the first couple of days, the trek, however was smooth sailing. The way back was a different proposition altogether. The sun was out, a lot of snow on the adjacent mountains melted and the Chadar was flimsy. Walking on a glassy ice surface is disconcerting as it is; you add to it the small matter of ice crackling beneath your feet, the sound of an outraged gushing river below and then you say to yourself – ‘This is precisely what makes Chadar so nerve wrecking’.

I will never forget the night spent in Nerak – my final camp before we began the return. The temperature dipped to minus thirty at night. I kept looking up at the tiny lights that flashed from high up in the mountains. It was the Nerak Village. My guide told me that the village had around 20-25 houses, a population of not more than 100-150 people. As I shivered in my tent despite wearing numerous layers, I tried to fathom how those people battled the insane cold every single day for 4-5 months. 

A frozen waterfall near Nerak

One of my most poignant memories of the trek comes from the night spent at the Shingra Koma camp. My guide Mr. Tenzing took me (and a couple of my friends) to a cave nearly a kilometer from our camp. The sun had already set a couple of hours ago. The mercury was beginning to dip. This cave was that night’s humble abode for our porters. Porters (generally locals from Zanskar) carry our food, kerosene and the other assorted gear on their indigenous sleds from one camp to the other. Most of them have their own farms back in Zanskar and they work as porters during winters to earn the extra buck. The porters had sealed the front of the cave with rocks placed on top of one another in an orderly manner and lit a big fire inside to keep the place warm. All of us sat in a big circle, warmed ourselves in the comfort of fire and had an extremely pleasant conversation about Zanskar – what the locals do, what do the women in Zanskar do, do they all have farms and much more. They asked us where we came from and how life was in the bigger cities.

There are numerous Himalayan treks out there. I am sure all of them are worth their salt. Chadar, however, isn’t merely a trek. It is an experience. It is a way of life for the people of the Zanskar Valley. To be able to go there, live it, feel it - is an experience worth every dime, every ounce of energy and every minute put into it.

Democracy or Dictatorship

They say that of all the forms of governance known to man, democracy, albeit with a gazillion flaws is the safest bet. Why is the case so? And why is autocracy or military rule generally a bad idea? For starters, our modern history itself is testament to the evil of dictatorship. Just to set the ball rolling, let me point out that some of the most prosperous nations in the World follow a democratic model - Germany, UK, America. To fuel the argument furthermore, some of the most chaotic countries in the World are/were ruled by despots – Syria, Iraq, North Korea, Pakistan and even the troubled, ever sanctioned against Iran (Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khamenei).

In a dictatorship, complete power rests in the hands of an individual. This doesn’t always mean that it can’t work out well. The big question here is that of sustainability. Albert Einstein famously said and I quote – “The geniuses of a dictator are almost always followed by scoundrels”. What happens with Venenzuela when its charismatic leader “Hugo Chavez” is no more? If we are lucky, a good ruler will almost certainly be followed by an average one. If we aren’t, we get the likes of Saddam Hussein. Entrusting all the power in the hands of an individual is never a smart idea. Power makes us powerful. But too much power makes us brutal, irrepressible. Look at the track record of any dictator in the World – be it Hosni Mubarak of Egypt, Basshar Al Assad of Syria, Muammar Gadaffi of Libya – they are all awaiting trials in the International Criminal Court of Justice for abysmal human right records during their rule. It is true that under despotic rule, corruption levels are comparatively lower. Stringent laws mean that the fear of consequence is overwhelming. What about the severely curtailed Freedom of Expression, curb on International Media, weak Judicial System. In Tunisia, for example, the exiled ruler Ben Ali was not as antagonistic as his contemporary despots, Saddam Hussein or Kim Jong of North Korea. Tunisians, however, were livid with the country’s slow economic growth. As more and more youth of Tunisia found it impossible to get a job, frustrations grew and spill onto the streets of Tunis - Tunisia's Capital and its largest city. What culminated is popularly known as the ‘Jasmine Revolution’. Tunisia and Tunisians were lucky. Ben Ali – their dictator/monarch/king was ousted from his throne without a drop of blood spilled. People likened the Jasmine Revolution to Gandhi’s non-violent protest for India’s freedom. It was historic in a way. However, the revolution transcended the borders of Tunisia. The anger spilled on to neighboring African & Middle Eastern countries giving birth to the “Arab Spring”. Not entirely surprisingly, the protests that followed in Libya, Yemen, Syria & Egypt were not on the lines of Gandhi’s doctrine. Syria, for instance has completely collapsed into a state of Civil War. Experts on the Middle East have already begun comparing the Syrian Crisis to the decade long Lebanese civil war in the Eighties. In the age of round the clock television & internet, people watch how Western countries are making progress by embracing democracy. Believe it or not, eventually, religion & tenets of faith alone are not enough for leading a good life.

It is on that promise of ‘Good Life’ that democracy triumphs over dictatorship or prolonged military rule. Democracy doesn’t guarantee a prosperous life to each and every citizen. India is the largest democracy in the world, by far. Yet, more than half of Indians life below the poverty line. No, it isn’t the perfect form of Governance. It brings with itself a baggage of dirt, a host of challenges. Having said that, it is generally agreed that freedom of speech, right to information, right to a just trial – these are the things that a democracy guarantees and invariably delivers upon. Yes, democracy brings to the fore other critical issues like massive corruption, legislative quagmires and tantrums of a coalition. In India, for instance, there have been widespread protests across the country in the past eighteen months against the ruling UPA Coalition accused of one multi-million dollar scam after the other. There have been calls for bringing about an end to dynasty politics that the Indian National Congress (India’s oldest Political Party) thrives in. The prime opposition to Congress,  BJP is often accused of leeching votes in the name of religion. And yet, in spite of these issues that hog all the time on our news channels, we don’t have an ongoing crisis like Syria. Just like our neighbor Pakistan, we don’t go to sleep every night fearing a military coup. What we have, is the ability to topple a government with the power of a vote. On the downside, however, democracy can be an evil in a state whose people aren’t educated. It is common for the electoral candidates to woo people just before an election and forget they exist once votes are in the bank. Rampant wastage of the tax payer’s money is a big problem in democracy. The fact that every decision, every action must be debated and pondered over in the parliament makes implementation of policies a painstakingly long process. The number of hands and desks that a file moves through before the containing legislation sees light of the day is a complication that democracy could do away with. Having said that, we can’t win everywhere can we!!

In Egypt or Syria, common men and women couldn’t simply ask or force Mubarak or Assad to step down. It took mass protests, immeasurable loss of property and irrevocable loss of innocent lives to oust a Hosni Mubarak. Bashar Al Assad in Syria still stands firm in Damascus even after eighteen months of Civil War between his army and the so called rebels. In India, America or Britain, you would have the option of voting the incumbent out after 4 years. You wouldn’t be kidnapped or executed in front of an awestruck public if you spoke against a Rahul Gandhi, Barrack Obama or David Cameron.  

Food for thought – In England Winston Churchill was welcomed home to trumpets and bagpipers after he won the Second World War. He was lauded as a National Hero. However, after the war, he was dismissed along with his government because the people deemed that to be the right thing to do at that time. Try doing that to the Supreme Leader of Iran or King Abdullah of the Saudi..

And the countdown begins…

‘LEH’ is around 12000 feet above the sea level. The temperature hovers around 4-5 degrees during daytime. At night, it can plummet down to minus 25 degrees. For starters, that is around 25 degrees lower than anything I have ever experienced.  The cold is just one deterrent. It is not the most debilitating one. Getting used to the tricky altitude is the real deal, I believe. People; generally drive their way to Leh from Delhi – India’s Capital. Delhi is barely a thousand feet above the sea level. When you drive/ride along the incredible ‘Shimla-Rohtang-Leh’ highway, you get acclimatized gradually. That, apart from the mind-numbing beauty soothing your eyes is the biggest advantage of hiring a ‘Royal Enfield’ on this trip.

Me? I am not going to be so lucky. ‘Chadar Trek’ (one that I am going for) can be taken only in the winter months when the sheet of ice (called ‘Chadar’ in Hindi) is firm enough to walk on. The flipside: roads are closed in the winter months. The only way to reach the magical Kingdom of Ladakh is by an airplane. That pretty much messes up any chance you would have had of gradual acclimatization. It is definitely a risk. Judging by what I have read and seen, I would say – it is a risk well worth taking. In any case, to account for the unplanned, I am reaching Leh three days before the actual trek commences. That should give enough time to get used to the thin Himalayan air of Leh. And, if everything else fails, some crazy trekker invented Diamox for this precise day. What if that doesn’t work either? Well, in that case, Life is full of disappointments. And I would be the newest testament to it.

I have an incredibly eventful ten-day vacation in front of me. I am not much of a photograph person and I have always maintained that tone. This trip, however, will have to be an exception. Yes, I plan to write a page about every single day spent in the snow laden wonder that will be this Chadar Trek. Having said that, it will need some photographic accompaniment. Maybe, this one time, the original adage – ‘A picture is worth a thousand words’ will triumph.

I will leave for Delhi on the Thursday morning. I have a full day in the city but it looks like it might not be enough. There are a lot of people I would like to meet up with but I can’t stretch the clock, can I? Mr. Rohit Kumar will most certainly be given a visit. So will be Mr. Roy. I am also looking forward to another visit to the IIT-D hostel to meet my oldest friend Kaushik. Yes, it most definitely is wonderful to go back to any college for it makes you nostalgic and remember your own days.

With all the shopping done, the entire Credit Card limit squeezed, I seem all set to go. If the Air India pilot doesn’t screw up big time, my next post should be from the ‘Rooftop of the World’.

Obama – A Second Chance He Deserved

Yesterday, Barrack Obama was sworn in America’s  President for the 2^nd term running – a feat only ever accomplished by 16 men before him. I had no intention of watching his entire 10 minute long speech broadcasting on CNN. Being an Indian, I am used to either ‘boring’ or ‘hate speeches’ by Indian parliamentarians. Also, our own Prime Minister, Dr. Manmohan Singh isn’t really a man of too many words, is he?

Anyway, I clung on to CNN for a while and as Barrack Obama started his speech, I just couldn’t switch over. One, his oratorical skills are far more superior than most of our parliamentarians. Two, Americans are true showmen.  They roped in Beyonce to sing the National Anthem. That was great but Richard Blanco’s poem “One World” stole the show for me.

What do you read into Obama’s first term in office? Was it a failure? Or was it enough to propel him into the annals of greatness (reserved in America only for a select few). The baton of Presidency couldn’t have been passed on to Obama at a worst time. George Bush went all out (both militarily & financially) against Afghanistan & later against Iraq. Obama inherited an ailing economy from George Bush. During Obama’s early days as Mr. President in the Oval Office, America’s gargantuan economy was contracting at 5% a year. 800,000 Americans were losing their jobs every month. Clearly, Obama had a mountain to climb. The American Economy hasn’t recovered fully yet. Having said that, Obama has to be credited for putting the economy on the road to recovery.

Osama Bin Laden’s capture was the undisputed high point of Obama’s first tenure. Yes, his capture from the garrisons of Abbottabad doesn’t mean that America is safe from the horrors of terror now. Pragmatically speaking, it doesn’t mean anything at all. If anything, Bin Laden’s loss will only further strengthen the resolve of Al-Qaeda. Taking all this into consideration, Osama’s capture was more of a symbolic victory. What it did was stir up public emotion? Obama was the guy who delivered.

Obama’s biggest victory might yet be the health care reform (PPACA – Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act – 2010). Of course, the act hasn’t yet seen the full light of the day. But commentators on the subject believe that this act, if fully implemented will transform the face of health care in America. It is argued by some that Obama desperately needed this second term to cement his name as a successful American President. With a majority of American troops slated to return from Afghanistan this year, Obama has certainly retracted on George Bush’s fierce stance of engagement in Afghanistan.

Barrack Obama reeks of human equality, an equality in every aspect of life – social, financial, cultural. In his inaugural speech he talked, very romantically, about the great American dream – ‘that no matter what tenets of faith you believe in, that no matter what is the color your skin, that no matter what language you speak – the unequivocal American dream is that each of you must have an equal right to make your lives worthwhile. That each one must be on an equal footing in his/her pursuit of happiness’. Barrack Obama, surely has a turbulent four year spell ahead of him. The American Economy might be out of the mess that he found it in when he first took over , it however, has by no means finished it recovery. No matter how much he tries, being the most powerful nation in the World, he can never extricate himself from the bloodied clashes in Mali, Syria and Congo. The conundrum of Iran, Pakistan and North Korea remains pretty much the same in Obama’s second term as it was in his first. The topic of Climate Change will come up again and again. More internally, gun control laws, the issue of illegal immigration, drug control are the other prominent issue that stare Obama in the face.

Yes, the ride will not be bump –free. However, I am sure that most of us will agree that a second term isn’t  totally undeserved for Barrack H Obama.

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Tahir ul Qadri – a New Pawn in Pakistan’s Political Equation

15^th January –

 Tahir ul Qadri was a staunch supporter of Gen Pervez Mushrraf. The General fell from grace and went into a self-imposed exile to Saudi Arabia. Not entirely surprisingly, Tahir ul Qadri too fell into oblivion around the same time in 2006. He migrated to Canada and ran a charity there. With General (Democratic )elections stated to be held this year in Pakistan, it is well known that Pervez Musharraf is itching to make a return. The problem, however, is that he will be arrested as soon as he steps foot on the Karachi Airport. Musharraf, though exiled and largely incapacitated retains his astuteness. Last month, Tahir ul Qadri made a dramatic return to Pakistan. His mission – demand for electoral reforms and cleansing of Pakistan’s political system.

Let’s look at his demands for a moment before we dwell on its possible impact. The beauty of Tahir ul Qadri’s oration is that none of it is outrageous. In fact, the Constitution of Pakistan itself guarantees all of his demands. He wants a pre-screening of all the political candidates. He states that there must be a criminal background check. That every parliamentarian should pay his taxes. A recent report in Pakistan revealed that 75% of Pakistan’s Parliamentarians did not file tax returns last year. A lot of them wield their influence to get loans against their names written off. Amidst, this ‘goonda raj’ & rampant tax evasion, if a man voices his concern against it all, what is wrong with it? Tahir ul Qadri is accepted as a religious moderate in Pakistan – a man from the gentle Sufi traditions. Twenty thousand people attended his rally in Islamabad yesterday. Some in Pakistan say that – the kind of money put into this latest rally is staggering. Well, he is a close aide of Pervez Musharraf who send Qadri into the streets of Lahore and Islamabad in the first place. That should settle the money debate then and there, isn’t it?

What is it that the Pakistani leadership is accusing him of then? This is the general fear. Qadri’s demands are justified, even constitutional but they simply cannot be met. If his conditions are met truly, it would disqualify three fourth of the Pakistan’s political representatives from contesting elections. Qadri knows that Zardari can never give into his demands, no matter how much he manages to play with the public sentiment. The other point to be noted here is that Zardari himself is the face of corruption in Pakistan. He is often referred to as ‘Mr Twenty Percent’ in Pakistan.

Pakistan is country that has been ruled by the Army for more than half of its history. If the elections this summer are successful, then it will be Pakistan’s first instance of transition from one Civilian Government (that completed its tenure) to another. Some in the embattled country argue that Mr Qadri wants to end Pakistan’s experiment with democracy. There is a growing fear of a military coup if the elections don’t go ahead and take place on time.

Tahir ul Qadri’s demands might not be wrong but a lot can be read into the timing of his puzzling re-appearance. A street protest for electoral reforms could have been organized a year ago, or maybe even 2 years ago. Why now is the biggest question? Just as the country is gearing up to go to polls, why now?

An ode to the Master..!!

As far as my memory serves me, I watched my first Cricket Match as an impressionable seven year old in 1996. It was India’s opening game against Kenya in the 1996 World Cup. Sachin notched up an unbeaten century and guided India to a win. It was a serene moment. In the long run, it turned out to be just another Tendulkar century but for me it was the beginning of a 16 year journey orchestrated beautifully by Sachin.


I am twenty three now and finally the great man has decided to hang up his boots. At least, one boot. Will Cricket ever be the same? Will Indian Cricket and the madness that engulfs it survive? The answer to the second question is ‘yes’ without a shadow of doubt. The game always survives. However, there is no disputing that Cricket will never be the same without Sachin.     


Here’s the thing about Sachin Tendulkar. If not the greatest ever, Sachin is definitely the greatest Cricketer of our generation. The magic of Sachin, however, transcends the Cricket field. Some even say that it transcends national boundaries. For us, Indians, Sachin Tendulkar isn’t just a guy who sent bowlers from all over the world to the cleaners for over two decades. In totally inexplicable ways, he is more, much more. Sachin has been a ‘way of life’ for us. His exploits on the field have been a part of our tea time conversations for ages. His greatness has been a matter of National Pride for over a billion people. In a country like ours, which is mediocre at best in the World of Sports, we have only had a handful of true legends. Sachin will always sit pretty at the pinnacle of that list. Whenever, I have felt somber about India never having an equivalent of a Diego Maradona or Roger Federer, I have always found comfort and consolation in the greatness and grandeur of Sachin Tendulkar.


As a school kid, we would talk about Sachin demolishing the likes of Shane Warne and Wasim Akram at lunch breaks. India would often succumb under pressure after Tendulkar gave us a fiery start. Times moved on and so did the likes of Warne and Wasim. Tendulkar, however, decided to hang in there and carry forward his duels with the likes of Shoiab Akhtar and Brett Lee. Even as the Indian team changed shape with the likes of Yuvraj, Sehwag and Dhoni beginning to call the shots, Tendulkar never really lost a step. He didn’t necessarily triumph on every occasion but one thing that he never really lost was his hunger and perhaps most vitally, his composure and dignity. That, along with his connect with the fans, is his biggest triumph of all. Sachin Tendulkar was all about standards. He might have hit the occasional lean patch but he never really lost his grace. He never really had a problem with reinventing himself either. Tendulkar's presence in the Indian Squad for 2011 World Cup gave everyone that extra bit of motivation to clinch the title. 


All I can say is that we are extremely blessed to a part of Tendulkar’s career, even if it is merely as observers. Every good thing must end and so does Tendulkar’s ODI career. We shall forever be in the hangover of this journey.