"Who is Sardar Patel?"

“Who is Sardar Patel?” the wife asked.

I looked at her with incredulity and glee. “You don’t know who Sardar Patel was?” My superior wife had finally come a cropper, and that too on something every child knows.

“Of course, I do, Idiot,” she said, with disdain. “What I am saying, is who the hell was he that the BJP and Congress are fighting over him?”

“He was a great leader and unified India,” I bleated.

“Anyone in his place would have got credit for that. He was the home minister, and that is what home ministers are supposed to do,” the wife said. “In fact, there were many occasions when he didn’t know what to do, and Nehru had to intervene.”

“And, mind you Patel did not like that,” she continued. “He wanted sole control over the Home Ministry and didn’t want the PM to have any say.”

“So, you think he had no special role in history?” I asked her, with a hint of sarcasm in my voice. The wife thinks that just because she studied Sociology she knows everything better than everyone else.

“I am sure he had. So do you,” she said, matching sarcasm for sarcasm. “What I mean is that the circumstances made him take certain decisions. Some decisions were good, some bad.”

“Some people say, if Patel had been India’s first prime minister, things would have been very different,” I said.

“Thank god, you didn’t say that every Indian still regrets that Sardar Patel didn’t become India’s first PM!” the wife said. “Patel was a man with a provincial mindset, who was no match to Nehru’s experience and learning. Nehru was as liberal as one could be in those days, Patel was essentially a conservative.”

“What’s wrong with being conservative?” I asked. “Why do you always use that word as if it were some sort of gaali? Patel was just a strong guy, not a namby-pamby, wishy-washy liberal like your Nehru.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Sardar Patel,” the wife said, softening her tone slightly. “He was just like any other Congress leader of the national movement. He was part of the right-wing in the Congress and played a major role in undermining labour activists in the party. Patel was the darling of pro-capitalist elements like you.”

“Well, capitalism has stood the test of time. Nehru’s socialism has destroyed us,” I said. I was now on stronger ground. When it comes to discussing economics, I am second to none. I have an MBA from the US.

“Your idiocy astounds me,” said the wife. “Nehru’s socialism was limited to minor land reforms. What you call Nehruvian socialism was nothing but state capitalism – the state investing in roads, electricity, to make life easier for India’s industrialists. The only difference is that if Patel had been PM, even the land reforms would have been stalled.”

“Patel’s biggest difference with Nehru is on what secularism means. Patel was opposed to the Hindu Rashtra that your friends seem to want nowadays,” the wife said, “but at the same time, he was one of the staunchest supporters of partition. He protected muslims during the riots, but at the same time was opposed to giving Pakistan the compensation due to it." 

"He was close to the softline Hindu congressis like Rajendra Prasad and Purushottam Das Tandon, but opposed the call for a Hindu state. He rebulit the Somnath temple* to please hindu right-wing sentiments, yet believed that Kashmir should be handed over to Pakistan. He supported the ban on the RSS in 1948 and at the same time believed they were all patriots. Sardar Patel's internal inconsistencies make it so easy for him to be appropriated by both the Congress and the BJP”

“At the end of the day, Patel was simply not a patch on Nehru,” the wife said with a sense of finality. “He was simply not tall enough as a leader.”

“And, no amount of record-breaking tall statues can change that basic fact.”   

* The wife got this wrong. An erudite friend who read this blog has pointed out, Sardar Patel only ordered that the Somnath temple be rebuilt, but died before actual work could begin. Gandhi backed this project, but said the money should be raised by the people and not given by the government. Rajendra Prasad presided over the installation ceremony of the temple. Nehru, who believed that this was a sign of Hindu revivalism, was thoroughly livid. 

The Return of The Golden Age

My friend Rajat is feeling much more historically relevant nowadays. He is a Gupta, and he has just realised that when the Guptas ruled India, we were all very prosperous and happy.

“It was India’s golden age, dude,” Rajat told me the other day at work. “There was so much gold and stuff, you know? It was, like, flowing, man. During the Gupta Age, India was called the Golden Hind, dude.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “It’s not Golden Hind. It is Golden Hind. And that is something totally different. I don’t remember exactly. Some ship or something. Nothing to do with you Guptas.” (I had history subsi in college). But, Rajat ignored me completely. He wasn’t going to let facts interfere with his recently acquired sense of historical purpose.

“Do you know, in those days Indians roamed around in golden chariots? They had big golden thrones to sit on. We were so rich that even Alexander the Great came from Italy to try and conquer us.”

“Alexander wasn’t from Italy. He was Greek or Macedonian or something,” I said 

“Alexander came to the borders of the Ganga in Bihar and the Guptas killed him in battle,” Rajat said.

“That’s rubbish,” I said, “completely wrong. Where are you getting all this from?”

“India has such a great history, man,” Rajat continued. “We are just ignoring our tradition. If we pay attention to history no one can stop us from having another Golden Age, dude.”

“How? What do chariots and thrones have to do with what we are today?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question, because Rajat was going to ignore it.

“Trade, man, trade. That is in our blood – the Gupta blood. We need to become rulers of India again. You can also help in this, dude. Like Chanakya helped the Guptas. He was the first economist of the world, you know? He balanced the budget so well, that there was no fiscal deficit. Those are the little-little things that made India the Golden Hind.”  

“Are you saying that we should have a Gupta as prime minister?” I asked. “Will that solve all our problems?”

“No, no. I am not saying that,” Rajat said, smiling indulgently at me. “I am saying the Prime Minister can be anybody, but traders should decide economic policy. Gupta Age is not just about Guptas. It is about taking the most important virtue from the Gupta DNA and injecting it into everyone in the country.”

“Free enterprise, man,” said Rajat with historic pride. “We Guptas invented it. Trade, enterprise and private property. That will make India shine again. We need to implement this ruthlessly. Aur jo iske khilaaf honge, unhein chun-chun kar saaf karna hai.”

Salary for The Wife

“You know, I should be getting a regular salary,” said the wife last night.

“My money is yours, honey, heh heh. See? It rhymes,” I said grinning in an ingratiating manner. The wife hates being called honey.

She did her standard disdainful nose wrinkle and jaw tightening move and said, “I am serious. I need to be getting a regular salary.”

“You are the one who said you need to give up your job to look after the daughter (I won’t give her name. You should never put your child’s name on the internet). Let’s hire a good full-time nanny from one of those expat agencies and you can go back to work. Who is stopping you? I never asked you to sit at home”

“Sit? Sit? Do I SIT at home?” screamed the wife. “That’s the problem with you men. If someone is looking after the home and children, she is ‘sitting’ at home.”

“I am also not a home-maker. I hate that word. I am working 24 hours to ensure you can go and earn a living and rise in your career. Please understand, you do not earn a salary for yourself. You earn family wages.” The Sociologist was now peeking out from her Hyde.  

“If you had to pay for everything that you get for free because I work at home, you will end up spending thousands, if not lakhs. And, if you want something of the standard that I provide, it would be even more,” she said. Her tone was cold and analytical, which was not to be mistaken for a call to rational debate. This was going to be a monologue.

Still raining in Ranchi. 150 target for India, in 20 overs. Not impossible.

“What the government should do is simple. It should get a law passed that makes it mandatory for employers to deposit half the salary of a man, whose wife works at home, into her account. Directly. Are you listening?” she asked, raising her voice slightly but inserting enough steel in it for me to stop thinking about cricket.

The human brain is such a wonderful machine that even if you are not actively listening to something, you do end up hearing it. “Yes, I understand your point,” I said. “What I don’t understand is, how is it different from the joint account we have? Whatever salary comes into the account is equally yours to withdraw and spend.”

“No. That is not good enough. The hidden idea behind the joint account is that the money is actually yours, you have earned it, and you are just being kind and liberal by saying it is mine as well. That will just not do. Your stupid company should realise that half the money you earn is mine. It is because of me that you can work the late hours that you do and go on the long business trips, honey.”

That word is irritating, when spoken in that tone.

“Who likes to work late? I don’t. It is part of my job,” I said.

“No, my dear. It is not part of job. It is what allows you to rise, become more important and earn more. If you don’t do it, you won’t lose your job. You will just not have the career that you want,” the wife said. How unreasonable.

“No one recognises that house work is socially and economically productive work. Only Chavez did and his government gave salaries to poor women who worked at home.”

“Chavez was a dictator,” I countered.

“Well, in that case, that is what you need,” said the wife and walked off.

Meanwhile, in Ranchi, the match had been washed out.

You MBA Chaps Need a Dose of Political Science

The first Diwali party of the year, and guess who I find sitting right at the bar, nursing a single malt? Mr Powerful, in person, surveying the world with his supercilious gaze. (For more on Mr Powerful read The GreatestPolitician Ever).  I tried to beat the hasty, but he had already seen me.

“How are you young man?” he thundered. “Oh! Hello, Sir. Didn’t know you were here,” I said. “Of course, you did, young man. You just wanted to get away from the old bore, didn’t you?” he said fixing his beady eyes on me. “Ha, ha,” I chuckled nervously, “not at all, Sir, not at all.” I sat down next to the old codger, resigning myself to a night of conspiracy theories.

“So, how is your bank doing?” It was not meant to be a serious question, so I gave a satisfactorily meaningless answer. “We are doing pretty well, considering the economic mess the government has put us in.”

“Why? What has the government done differently from what it has been doing for the past 9 years?” he asked. It was a typical Mr Powerful question – any answer would be wrong. Therefore, I just smiled in lieu of an answer.

 “The problem with you young chaps is that you think the government was doing something great before 2009, and suddenly all of that has stopped. What do you people call it? Yes, Policy Paralysis!” The last two words carried all the weight of his contempt for – people like me, I guess.

“Let me tell you, what the truth is. While money was flowing in from the US till 2009, India was growing. It was entirely driven by credit and liquidity. On the one hand, companies were raising money from the stock markets and banks, like yours,” he said wagging a finger at me, “and on the other hand, you guys were giving easy credit to consumers to buy what was being produced.”

“The credit flow had created a wealth-effect – people actually believed they could borrow and spend more today because they were going to earn more tomorrow. Tell me, isn’t it true that you got massive raises and bonuses till 2009, and since then your salary hasn’t gone up that much?” I had, kind of spaced out, but this direct question brought me back to mother earth.

I had to admit, he was right. “Yes, that’s true. It is happening everywhere.” Like last time, Mr Powerful was using logic to draw me in.

“Nowadays, don’t you think twice before you spend?” I nodded. “See? That’s what happens when a credit bubble bursts. You get a poverty-effect. People spend and companies invest even less than what is warranted, because they are now pessimistic about the future.” Mr Powerful paused to ask for another single-malt.

“You see, till the credit-bubble lasted, the entire world of Indian business was earning money by the fistfuls. Old business, like the Tatas, Reliance, Birlas and the new upstarts, the real estate companies, the South Indian construction players, and the two Anils – Anil Ambani and Anil Agarwal. Old private banks became massive and new private banks were growing fast.”

“But, then came the collapse. If you remember, son, Manmohan and Chidambaram did a lot for industry in 2008. Tax rates were lowered, special exemptions were given, money was pumped in. And, don’t forget the pay commission arrears to government employees that kept demand stable for a couple of years.” I told him that I did remember. I mean, I have an MBA from a top American B-School. Who does he think he is talking to?

“As demand started to fall, the pie started shrinking. Now, India’s big business players – old and new – wanted bigger shares of the pie. This was the beginning of the big business battles that are being played out every day, hidden behind the so-called stories of policy paralysis.” And thus spake the conspiracy theorist.

 “You see, young man, India Incorporated has got split into various groups, operating on various axes. There are the Tatas and Mukesh Ambani, on one side, and they have two big banks with them – ICICI & HDFC. On the other side, there are the two Anils and, I supect, Kumarmangalam Birla and some smaller banks like Kotak. Depending on what battle for resources is being fought, other smaller players align themselves with these two large groups.” The man might have been talking fiction, but he did know how to spin a yarn.

“The truth is, that the government and the Congress party are also split along this divide,” he said, coming back to his favourite topic. “The Manmohan-Chidambaram duo, with their acolytes like Sibal and Anand Sharma, are on the side of the two Anils and Kumar Birla. Mukesh, Tatas and also DLF, to a certain extent, have been tied up with the Sonia Gandhi camp.”

“Try and recall how the Congress party has tried to block whatever Vedanta does and how the PMO has come to its rescue. Remember how fingers are being pointed at the PMO on both 2G where Anil Ambani gained and now the Coal Scam where CBI is trying to fix Kumar Birla. Recall how Reliance crony Murli Deora was pushed out of the oil ministry by the PM and almost immediately Jaipal came and began tightening the screws on Mukesh. Add them all up, and you will understand how this fight is taking place.” Complete hard-boiled conspiracy fiction. But, by now, I was completely hooked.

“You know, the big scams didn’t happen right now. They began in the first edition of the Manmohan Singh government, which you chaps think was fantastic. Take 2G, coal, anything. They are all old.” Well, he had me there. His logic was solid. “You see, no scam comes out unless someone spills the beans. The war at the top of India’s big business has resulted in these leaks. The media, too, is taking sides.”

“Even institutions like the CAG, need a weak or divided government to be able to expose it. Vinod (Rai? Ex-CAG?) got his strength from the internal divisions in the government.” Mr Powerful wasn’t doing a spot of name-dropping. He actually does know all these people on first name basis. Rahul Gandhi is Rahul, the PM is Manmohan: only Sonia Gandhi is Soniaji.  

“What you call policy paralysis is partly true. All senior bureaucrats are worried that they will become collateral damage in this fight. It’s a fight between two groups of businessmen being fought out as a battle between the Congress party and the government. Even when projects are cleared for one side, the other side gets them stalled.” Another pause, another single-malt.

“The big problem for the Gandhis is that Mukesh doesn’t trust them anymore. I think he is switching allegiance to Modi. Manmohan has nothing to lose, even if big business switches sides and backs Modi for PM. He doesn’t care if the Congress loses. He knows, even if the UPA wins, they won't make his PM again” he said with a wry smile. 

“You see, the problem is that this is pushing Rahul more and more to the left. He doesn’t trust India’s corporates and they don’t trust him."

“But, that is another story,” said Mr Powerful, leaning back on his chair and taking a long sip of his single-malt. His face had acquired that familiar vacant expression, which meant it was time for me to leave him alone.

“Very interesting,” I said as I stood up. He looked up sharply and said “you don’t believe me?”

“Well, there is a lot to digest,” I said. I wasn’t going to lie and say that I believed his fantastic stories. 

“Okay, whatever you want to believe. But, this is the real truth. Understand it. It will help you to become a better banker,” he said.

“You know what you MBA chaps need? You need a dose of political science,” he said looking at me with an amused expression on his face.

“Without that, you will always remain fools.”

  

The Bitter Fourth

The wife was at the breakfast table. I hesitated for a bit then said it. “You know, Rajat and Sunil will leave work early today. I can come back early too, if you want.” 

“Why?” the wife asked, as she buttered her multi-grain toast. (I have no idea what the advantage of multi-grain is if you are going to slather butter on it.) “Well, both Sonia and Rati are fasting for Karwa Chauth. So, the boys want to be back home early as soon as the moon rises.”

“Disgusting,” said the wife with an expression to back it. “Sonia, at least, is an educated woman. Why the hell doesn’t she ask Rajat to fast for her instead? I can’t believe that these women give in to these typical patriarchal rituals.” My wife studied sociology in college.

“Nothing wrong with tradition, yaar,” I said in a conciliatory tone, “and this one is about love. Nothing wrong.”

“Rubbish. I don’t know where you have got your silly ideas from. Karwa Chauth is a ritual that comes from the martial communities of north India, who had moved to settled agriculture. These people used to harvest grain around this time and store grain in large earthen pots called Karwas. Around this time, the men around Punjab and Rajasthan would leave for nomadic ventures. The fourth day or Chauth of the Kartik month was set aside for a day long ritual to pray for the well-being of the males of the tribe. That is the origin of Karwa Chauth.”

The wife was now on her sociologist’s pedestal now, from where she looked down upon us MBA types. “As patriarchy took root in village communities in the rest of North India the ritual of Karwa Chauth fed on local matriarchal rituals and assimilated them. For instance in UP, the Karwa Chauth rituals retain traces of old mother goddess cults, where the Karwa or pot stands for the womb.”

This was all going over my head. “I still haven’t understood what is so wrong about it? How does it matter how it began as long as today it is a romantic occasion?” I asked.

“Did you know about Karwa Chauth before Dilwaale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge?” the wife countered. “Yes, of course, I did. I have known it since the time of Hum Aapke Hain Kaun. Heh heh. ” The wife was not impressed with my joke. “That is exactly it. Karwa Chauth has been transformed into a romantic ritual by Bollywood. And, that too the Bollywood, where no one is poor, the only problems are those of emotions, where mothers and fathers and sons and daughters-in-law have specific roles to play in the larger interests of the parivaar.”

Bad mistake, to have brought this up. But, too late – the wife had been unleashed. “This Karwa Chauth that the wives of your colleagues (the wife forgot to mention most of her own friends) celebrate, is a product of Bollywood, advertising, and the market. What used to be a ritual for women in some parts of North India has been spread by the market to the entire country. It is like Valentine’s Day. 

"What is worse is that its romance reinforces all the traditional values of a patriarchal society. The good wife must fast for her husband’s well-being, and that is the best way to express her love. The husband, in turn, will give her gifts and protect her, because that is what good husbands must be – providers.”

“Oh! Come one! Many husbands fast as well nowadays. And, let me tell you, on Karwa Chauth day the husband feeds the wife the first morsel and gives her the first sip of water,” I said. I understand women’s liberation and all, but I don’t like traditions to be belittled.

“Rubbish!” said the wife, using her favourite word. “The husband feeds the wife on that day, only because it upholds the norm that the wife must feed the husband on all other days. It is an exception to the rule that the wife is responsible for the kitchen, while the husband has to provide what goes into it.”

I didn’t want to argue any further. “Ok yaar. Don’t get so bitter about it.”

“But, that’s exactly what it is,” the wife said. “It is Kadwa. It is the bitter fourth of the patriarchal month.”

Lo. Kallo Baat.   

The Greatest Politician Ever

The other day, at a Dusshera party, I met a very well-known and rather powerful chap. I won’t take his real name. Even though he is retired, his is a household name. So, let’s just call him Mr Powerful. By the time I reached the party, he had clearly downed a few single-malts. I carried mine and joined the small group of people who surrounded him. Mr Powerful was enjoying himself as he held his darbaar.

“Who do you think is the greatest Indian politician ever?” he asked. It was obvious from his expression that any answer that any of us gave would be wrong.

“Manmohan Singh,” he said, without waiting for an answer.

Everyone laughed, except Mr Powerful. The laughter died down as everyone realised that he was serious. “The man has never won an election. The one time he tried, even from a safe middle-class seat like South Delhi, he got trounced by that loser Vijay Kumar Malhotra. And, this man will end up being Prime Minister for an entire decade.”

“But, he’s not really a proper PM. He is just Sonia Gandhi’s rubber-stamp,” said one middle-aged gentleman with a clipped moustache (clearly military). “He’s a mute puppet.”

“That’s the biggest myth. Manmohan Singh is the most powerful man in the government. He has stalled everything that Sonia Gandhi or Rahul have tried. I had warned her in 2008, but by then it was too late. Manmohan had already taken over full control.”

“If he has, then he has done a good thing,” smirked clipped-moustache. “With due respect Sir, I know you are close to the family, but the mother and son are destroying the nation. They are single-handedly responsible for this fiscal crisis.”

“But, Dr Singh has implemented everything that the Gandhis have wanted, hasn’t he?” I asked. “First MNREGA, now food bill. He has given in to all these socialist plans, which are going to ruin the economy, despite being a proper economist himself.”

“Really, young man? You think he has implemented all of Soniaji’s projects? Can you please tell me how much has the government allocated to MNREGA this year? Outlay for the job guarantee programme has actually dropped from 40,000 crore rupees two years ago to 33,000 crore in this budget. The Manmohan-Chidambaram duo has actively cut down financing to the only thing that Soniaji and Rahul wanted.” Mr Powerful’s voice was getting loud now. He was clearly irritated by clipped-moustache and me.

“Now think of this lovely food bill that you are talking about. The original idea mooted by John (or did he say Jean?) and Arunaji (that’s what I heard) was coverage for everyone. Rich young men like you would not have availed of it, but let me tell you my son, there are millions and millions in this country who need subsidised food,” said Mr Powerful, wagging a finger at me.

“And, you know what the so-called puppet PM has done?” Clipped-moustache was now at the receiving end of Mr Powerful’s ire. “First he set up a committee under that Rangarajan fellow (C Rangarajan? Must be) and, as expected, the committee said food for all is far too expensive, it will destroy the economy, blah, blah, etc. etc., the typical things these economist types say.”

“What’s wrong with that, sir?” asked clipped-moustache. “Subsidies lead to fiscal deficit. Fiscal deficit causes inflation. It is simple really. Ultimately, it is bad for the poor as well.” He looked around at all of us in a smug manner. “Your Soniaji and Rahul Baba are leading the country to ruin, Sir.”

“I am not questioning that, Brigadier Saheb (so, I was right about the military bit). I am questioning your belief that Soniaji has some sort of a remote to control Dr Singh. That is simply not true,” Mr Powerful said, looking somewhat exasperated with Brigadier clipped-moustache.

“As I was saying, before you interrupted me, the food-bill now covers only two-thirds of the population, it is an increase of 22% over what has always been covered. Do you know that 45% of people in India are entitled to 7 kg of food-grain per head? After the food-bill is passed, only those under the poverty line will continue to get the full 7 kg, while those above it who used to get 7 kg will get 5 kg. That’s two kilos less. So, while more people will get cheaper food, many who were getting 7 kilos will now get less. That’s what your puppet PM has done to the food-bill.”

“Sir, you are throwing numbers at us. You now we can’t counter it, since we don’t have any data here,” said the Brigadier, again looking at all of us for support.

“Don’t believe me now. Just check the numbers when you go home. Your son can help you, Brigadier. It’s all available on the internet.” It was Mr Powerful’s turn to look smug now. “Just check how much Chidambaram has kept for food subsidy this year – 90 thousand crore, which is 15 thousand crore more than last year. All food subsidies have been combined under the food-bill. And, if you take inflation into account the increase is nothing but peanuts. Yes, I am throwing numbers at you. But, you can always check it up.”

Brigadier clipped-moustache was looking less certain now, and Mr Powerful was on a roll. “Let me tell you something. Manmohan Singh does whatever he wants. He gets his fuel from the Americans. They are the ones who hold his remote.” He looked around the lawn in a theatrical manner and then dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “You never know when they are listening. The Americans have always wanted Manmohan as PM. He does everything to help them. I won’t say much. Just think of Sharm-al-Sheikh (I googled this. The PM had said something about Baluchistan, which weakened India’s claim that Pakistan is unilaterally disrupting India’s internal security). Think of how Manmohan became a real Singh over the nuclear deal. Think of how he has been fighting for FDI in retail. None of this is backed by the Gandhis. But, he does it anyway.”

This was increasingly sounding like a conspiracy theory. The chap was obviously drunk. But, then, he was also in a position to have inside information. In any case, everyone was riveted. True or not, it was a great story.

“You know, in UPA II, Manmohan has decided who will get what ministry. His group has retained all the key ministries. Chidambaram, Kapil Sibal, Anand Sharma. Just imagine, the Planning Commission is being run by a man who doesn’t even believe in planning. In each case, a completely pro-corporate face is manning a key portfolio. And, you all call this government socialist. If Soniaji had control, none of these people would have been ministers,” he said vehemently.

“Come on, Sir! Are you trying to tell us that Sonia Gandhi doesn’t decide who will be minister? That is totally unbelievable,” I said. I had to say it. The guy was clearly talking through his hat.

“Let me give you an example, son,” Mr Powerful said. “You know, a couple of years ago, the mining ministry was being run by a veteran Congressi from Assam, BK Handique. He is an old school minister, who believes it is his job to push the party’s agenda. You may like it or not, but that is what old school ministers did. Handique was about to bring in a bill, which would have made it compulsory for mining companies to give adivasis a chunk of their revenue. Obviously, the corporate lobby got after him and wanted him out. Soniaji was backing the bill and so was Rahul. But, ultimately Handique had to go. Your dear Dr Singh had his way and replaced him with a completely pro-industry man.”

“If he is so powerful, then why did Rahul Gandhi humiliate him like this and force the government to withdraw the new ordinance?”

“Well, it is only now that the Gandhis have started realising that unless they counter-attack, the PM will not implement anything the party wants. So, Rahul is leading the attack. Soniaji is still unsure whether it is good politics to attack your own Prime Minister.”

Mr Powerful motioned to a passing waiter, tapped his glass, and leaned back into his chair. “You will now see very interesting developments every day. The fight between Rahul and the PM-Chidambaram duo is likely to intensify. It won’t be easy for the Gandhis, because the man they are fighting is the greatest politician in India,” he said and looked around at all of us.

“It will be a hidden fight. You will only be able to read it through its symptoms. And, watch out for what the CBI does. That is one institution that is still controlled by 10 Janpath. Watch it closely.”

With that Mr Powerful switched off. You could see it on his face that he had said all that he wanted to say, and he no longer found us interesting. I drifted off to talk to others at the party, as did most of the others who were listening to Mr Powerful.

A couple of days later, as I was glancing at the newspapers in the morning, there it was – a symptom staring me in the face. The CBI had lodged an FIR against Kumarmangalam Birla and the former Coal Secretary. The coal secretary had already reacted by saying, if he is to be investigated so should the PM.

“See, Mr Powerful was right,” I called out to my wife. “The CBI is, indirectly, targeting the PM. The Gandhis are fighting back”

“Fighting back? Rubbish,” said the wife. “They control the PM. Why would they fight him? He is nothing but a puppet PM.”

“That’s just a myth,” I said, in an admittedly smug fashion. “He is India’s greatest politician ever.”

Why I Hate Politics

I don’t know what my local MLA looks like. In fact, I don’t know what party he (or is it she?) belongs to. Even if I had a problem, I wouldn’t think of going to my local MLA or MP. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable dealing with a man, who is most probably corrupt or even a criminal. I deal with my problems myself, without taking help from the government. If I have a water supply issue, I call a private tanker. If there’s a problem with my security, I hire private security guards. If I fall ill I go to a clean private hospital. Yes, it costs more. But, at least you know you will get what you are paying for. Sometimes, I do have to use some government contacts, when I have to deal with corrupt babus. But, in general, I just don’t need the government. That is why I don’t go to vote. I don’t want to have a hand in bringing corrupt criminals to power.

My driver, however, always takes chhutti on polling day. It is an annoyance, but it is his right. And, I am all for rights. My driver knows his local MLA, a goon who lords over the tenements and slums on one of the corners of the city.

“Gunde to hain, Sir, lekin kaam bhi bahut karte hain”

“Kya karte hain?”

“Sir, unhoney hi humaare yahaan par bijlee ka meter lagwaya tha. Pahle to yeh BSES waale bol rahe the, unaethorise calony mein meter nahin lagega. MLA saab ne karwaya hai”

Now, this is exactly the reason why India is not progressing. My driver’s MLA is just one such case. I have nothing against slums. Poor people also need to live somewhere. But, when the government forces a power company to install meters, it is the first step towards giving these slums legal status. Then, the slums expand and the people who live there begin thinking it is their land.

Think of the Mumbai airport. It is the gateway to our financial capital. But, Mumbai can’t get a good airport because there are slums sitting on airport land. They can’t be evicted because they are protected by some politicians. On top of that, I can bet, they get every municipal amenity that you and I get. Okay, I am exaggerating a bit. My point is, cut off roads, stop electricity supply and the slum will implode on its own. But, no, that won’t happen. Politicians will protect this illegal encroachment just to create vote-banks. I think, that is the reason my driver votes. He gains from being part of a vote-bank. He needs this goon MLA to help him get more out of the government than he deserves. He wants all the illegal amenities he extracts from the system to be legalised and turned into entitlements.

My driver’s good-for-nothing brother is another example. He studied till the 10^th and then failed his boards. Since these people are experts at taking hand-outs he came to me and asked or a loan to set up a momo stall. My parents had always helped the poor, especially during the Navratras, so I didn’t hesitate to give the loan. I was going to deduct it from my driver’s salary over the next one year. I told him very clearly, I will not back anything illegal. He must get a proper licence for his stall, follow proper hygiene. But, that was not to be.

The other day, he came with my driver in the morning.

Saheb, mera stall uthakar le gaye hai policewaale.

Kyon?

Woh, jahan par lageya tha woh municipality ka zameen hai. Policewaale aye aur sab uthakar le gaye.

Arrey, tumhein to maine pahle hee kaha tha kanoon torh kar kuchh mat karna. Ab main kya karoon?

Saheb, aap kuchh karo sir. Phone laga do kahin.

Itna asaan nahin hota hai bhai. Phone lagaane se kya hoga? Main ghair kanoonee cheezon ke saqt khilaaf hoon.

I could have picked up the phone and called my friend Rahul. He is a big builder and is very close to the Police Commissioner. But, I don’t want to take any favours for illegal matters. I mean, this is too minor a thing for me to take a favour for. The Commissioner is actually a very decent guy. I had to call him when my brother got into an accident last year. He helped send the police immediately and they were really very efficient and polite. I have to say I was a bit surprised. It was not at all like what I had expected the Delhi Police to be. But, that was a genuine case. This is an illegality.  

I expected my driver to sulk a bit for a few days because I hadn’t helped his brother. But, he came the next day, to say the local MLA had worked things out. The man (goon) led a mob of supporters along with my driver’s brother to the local thana. They shouted slogans against the SHO and the MLA threatened to launch an agitation. The harried SHO told his men to hand over the stall and my driver’s brother’s things. He now gives free momos to cops and is being protected by them.

This is the reason I hate these politicians. They encourage illegal behaviour and they encourage corruption. These politicians create vote-banks amongst the uneducated and poor, by giving them handouts and protecting their illegal behaviour. In turn, the poor and uneducated become foot-soldiers for the criminal politicians. That is why our country is failing to modernise. The politicians protect people who break the rules, encroach on government land, divert our tax money to fund subsidies for them.  This lawlessness is the reason why our cities are dirty, no one follows traffic rules, there is no sense of hygiene and there is so much crime.

We, the middle class, who pay all the taxes, get nothing, while people who don’t work hard are turned even lazier through government subsidies. The country is sinking thanks to the government’s populist policies. Our fiscal deficit is going through the roof and that is causing inflation. Foreign companies are leaving our country and our currency is crashing. Business leaders are losing faith in our economy because reforms have come to a standstill. But, the government doesn’t care. They just want to build vote-banks to win elections, even if the country slides back to the 80s.  

What we need today is proper governance. We need a strong leader to come and implement proper policies. We need to encourage the poor to work harder and become entrepreneurs. That is how countries like America have prospered. We need a leader who will make bureaucrats and policemen work. We need a leader who will not compromise on the law in the name of vote-bank politics. We need to get rid of the subsidy-wallahs who are teaching the poor to depend on giveaways. Remember, you give a man a fish he eats for a day; you teach him to fish he will eat forever. Unless he is from Gujarat and is vegetarian.