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October     Last updated: September 30, 5:00 p.m.

India That Is Bharat
Satiricus

Wannabe somebody—take to terrorism or brigandry
Road to Bigness

Enough is enough. Satiricus is tired of being a nobody. He has decided to be a somebody. A big somebody. A somebody so big that his writ will run in the corridors of governments. But which way lay so much bigness? That was the one-crore question. After deep deliberation he has found the way. Rather, two ways. Satiricus could either become a terrorist, or he could become a brigand. Which should he prefer? That would depend upon whether he would like to dictate to the Central Government, or to two State Governments. The other day a newspaper columnist opened his article with the sentence—"What is galling to most citizens of this country is the ease with which India can be brought to her knees by bandits and militants." Nonsense! To sensible Satiricus, a wannabe somebody, this ease is actually welcome. In fact, it is fun. Take this talks-and-ceasefires circus.

Terrorist Satiricus would certainly enjoy this game of offering talks and/or ceasefires every other week, withdrawing them every alternate week, and seeing the Central Government jump in joy or sag in sadness like a puppet on a string. The only problem for Satiricus would be whether he should be a national terrorist or an international one, an indigenous terrorist or an imported one. The very National Government of the national alliance preferred the national variety of terrorists to talk to—but alas, it transpired that national terrorists active in 'Indian-held Kashmir' are only the B-team of international terrorists sitting pretty in Pakistan. Then would it not be more sensible for Satiricus to go international? At least in one respect it certainly would—he could then exchange his present hole-in-the-wall bed-sit for a spacious bungalow right next door to Gen. Musharraf. If, on the other hand, Satiricus is sold on sylvan surroundings, he could become a brigand.

Then he could kidnap a Bollywood hero or two, and send an ultimatum to two State Governments to release a hundred of his friends or else. The CMs of the States concerned would immediately respond, saying 'Dear Mr. Dacoit, your very reasonable demand will certainly be fulfilled'. Then Satiricus would write back—'Sorry for second thoughts, but make it two hundred friends'. Again the Chief Ministers would respond—'Your demands are getting more and more reasonable. The courts say no, but who are the courts to meddle between friends? We quite agree with you that the life of the film actors enjoying your hospitability is far more important than the lives of all the policemen you killed as punishment for committing the crime of coming to catch you'. Having thus done something for his friends, brigand Satiricus would turn his attention to the good of the country and send a charter of demands : 1. Sign CTBT, WTO and all other alphabetical abbreviations without bothering to explain to me what they mean. 2. Stop criminalisation of politics immediately. I am warning you, comparing decent criminals with politicians is a crime. 3. You know I drink only Bisleri water, but buying Bisleri bottles is such a bother, so set up a Bisleri plant right in the middle of my forest. And finally 4. Some of you people have started calling me 'Sir'. This is an insult, call me 'Your Majesty'. For I am the monarch of all I survey (for 20 years), my right as a dacoit there is no government to dispute.

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Journalism is a mission. In those days of Gandhi it was a mission. In these days of Gandhi too it is a mission. Of course, another Gandhi, another mission. So journalist Satiricus quite appreciated the missionary zeal of India's biggest English-language, and therefore national, newspaper when it devoted precious front-page space to the labour pains of Priyanka Nehru-Gandhi-Vadra, and followed the feat four days later with a four-column heading announcing "Gandhi dynasty gets youngest member", supported and strengthened by two sub-headings—"Priyanka delivers a baby boy" and "Ecstatic Congressmen distribute Laddoos". On going through the news it was difficult for Satiricus to judge whether Congressmen were more ecstatic or this newspaper was more ecstatic. For in devoted details it reported that Priyanka was taken to the operation theatre at 3.30 p.m., the birth took place at 4.04 p.m., and the baby weighed 2.67 kg. My, my! Satiricus has seen this newspaper misspelling prominent Indian names in big, bold headlines without a care in the world, but can it afford the criminal inefficiency of reporting that the latest, dearest dynast descended into this world at 4.00 p.m. and not full four microseconds later, or that he weighted exactly 2.67 kg, and not a gram more, not a gram less? Such exactitude is the stuff of great journalism. That the same exactitude takes a back seat while calling the baby the Gandhi dynasty's youngest member is another matter. In course of time Bobby Vadra's Baby Vadra will grow up, marry, and have a son of his own. Who will he be? Of course he will be a Nehru-Gandhi. Congress mamas will ensure that with their ecstatic laddoos

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The path of true love, it is said, does not run smooth. Nor, says Satiricus, that of progress. Take beer. It has been recently reported that the Government of Maharashtra has no intention of giving soft drink status to beer and permit its sale through provision stores, road-side stalls or canteens. This is not only distressing, it is even surprising. For Satiricus distinctly recalls having read some years ago that at that time beer was cheaper than milk in Maharashtra. Then what went wrong? How could an elected democratic State Government be so hard on the people as to make this bare necessity of life more expensive than a soft drink? Would it not mean that the progressive Maharashtra Government is going back on the progress it had made years ago? Unfortunately, even elsewhere in intoxicated India that is boozy Bharat, progress seems to be taking a beating. For instance Satiricus also recalls that some years ago Punjab, the land of five rivers, had been proudly advertised as the latter-day land of six rivers, the sixth being the beer that flowed through its breweries. By now Punjab and Maharashtra should have set up an integrated beer river system. Uttar Pradesh, that lies in between, has extended a commendable helping hand by recently announcing a liberal policy for issuing licences for sale of beer. So then, what is holding up our chilled progress? Are some hot 'tea'-totallers the impediment in the way? All in all, it does seem spiritual progress must take its own time, especially when it changes its meaning from progress of the spirit to the progress of the spirits.