The Right State of Mind for Manifestation and More

 January is that time of the year, when many insist on cloaking everything with a patina of putrid positivity. Most resolve to work on their ‘negativity’, resolute in their conviction that all the real troubles in the world are merely the offspring of the wrong mental attitude and simply correcting this faulty state of mind would lead to the manifestation of all things worth having such as private jets, super yachts, routine trips to Mars, de-aging chambers, optimal health preservation pods, and a flat stomach. A brittle commitment to looking only at the bright side of things and generating good vibes only is bound to boomerang on the determinedly buoyant when reality bites. And it always does, stripping away the veneer of pretend good cheer to reveal the simmering anxiety, nastiness, and hopelessness within.

On the other side of the rainbow bridge, the cynical and the curmudgeonly among us steadfastly insist on seeing reality for what it really is. And paying attention to painfully unpalatable facts and inconvenient truths. Not everyone brought in the New Year holidaying in exotic locales, enjoying immersive Yoga retreats, bespoke experiences and resolving to think positive. Most were too busy dealing with the beastly business of living. It entails trying to understand why we are all embroiled in pointless culture wars of astounding levels of stupidity when real wars are being fought. While we argued pointlessly over the merits of Dhurandhar vs Ikkis with unnecessary fervour, a baby in Bhagirathpura, Indore died because the poor mite was fed packaged milk mixed with tap water. Unsurprisingly it was revealed that the municipal water supply was contaminated with sewage. Even less surprisingly, it seems highly unlikely that heads will roll over such criminal levels of institutional negligence. After all, trivialising the suffering of others is something we all specialize in. It is simpler to deflect responsibility and shrug off tragedy as the inevitable outcome of extreme poverty and ignorance without ever bothering to address pressing issues in a meaningful way.

Besides nobody has time for micro issues when the Earth is overheating and Indians (not just Delhiites) no longer have the luxury of drawing in a lung full of clean air. It is a public health emergency the government as well as the citizens of this great nation refuse to deal with because it would require cleaning up our act literally and metaphorically. Nobody can be bothered with that sort of thing of course. These things are every bit as tedious to focus on as collapsing ropeways and roads that were newly built at the taxpayer’s expense. It makes more sense to grouse in vain, look the other way and hope that pranayama and air filters will do the trick to help us muddle along in the muck the way we always have. Needless to say, negative noodleheads don’t help much either.

Peddlers of positivity as well as sellers of cynicism have one thing in common. They are equally inept at making a difference. Which is why the year ahead as well as the ones after are unlikely to be an improvement on the ones before. Better or bitter, we have no choice but to plod on and make the best of it, without being insufferably perky or pissy about our prospects. Belated new year wishes folks! 

This column was originally published in TNIE Magazine

Achieving Enlightenment the Easy Way

The pursuit of enlightenment is simplicity itself. Especially in Kaliyuga, where the asuric forces of misinformation, consumerism, global warming, abysmal AQI (on good days the levels are unhealthy to hazardous while on bad days it climbs from toxic to deathly), criminality and corruption are on the rampage. It is no longer necessary to spend thousands of years locked in meditation with the body twisted up in impossible yogic poses, and the diet limited to dew drops, fallen leaves, and the occasional sluggish snail. In an age where the degradation of the human spirit and flesh is complete, the path to moksha is smoother than ever requiring only simple acts of kindness which delays the prophesied dissolution of the entire world by a few decades. Acts of bravery, selflessness and true devotion are similarly amplified. 

I am inclined to start the spiritual ascent sooner rather than later. But it might be better to begin from a place of strength as was pointed out to Michael Corleone in The Godfather, which means my life needs to be sorted out first. Which in turn entails achieving all my goals small and big, including the ones younger versions of me in decades past assumed I would have pulled off by now. 

Secondly, budgeting for enlightenment is a beastly business. Especially since the frame of mind required for doing good unto others requires a level of well-being that is frankly impossible to achieve without eating, praying and loving Elizabeth Gilbert style. 

In order to do that, I need to make indecent amounts of money by oversharing about my life-altering experiences from having travelled across every nook and cranny of the lost and forsaken cities like Cahokia, Çatalhöyük, Mohenjodaro, Pripyat and Angamuco in a book that will be a meticulous record of my passionate meandering. But grand expeditions on this scale which will enable me to tell my tall tales cost a bomb. The state of my current finances and my inability to budget for daily life let alone the adventure of a lifetime which will ensure that I can safely travel into the mysterious past while battling superheated volcanic gas and ancient zombies while tucking into bygone culinary delights and return in one piece needs to be addressed immediately. 

As such, I plan to learn everything I can about investment, the bulls and bears of the stock market, dogecoin, and the sastras pertaining to success. It might be best to enroll in an Ivy League college. Too bad I cannot afford it. 

It makes no matter. Becoming a loaded influencer is simplicity itself. All I need to do is film myself summiting Mt. Everest using only my hands in the manner of Karaikal Ammaiyar. It would have been accomplished too had I not accidentally dropped my stupid phone in the loo. But that is easily fixed. Just as soon as I become the proud owner of a Falcon Supernova IPhone 6 Pink Diamond. 

At this point, there might be those like my best friend who think I am being unreasonable and more than a little stupid. Just do it, she said the way your beloved Michael Jordan did. I fully intend to. Just as soon as I stop chasing my own tail, become a grown up and access the truth within to achieve eternal salvation. 

This article originally appeared in TNIE magazine

To Hell with It

 

Everybody has their own version of hell. For those currently being brutalized and victimized in Gaza or any other active warzone, being starved, tortured, driven from their homes and watching their children get executed is the final circle of hell’s many torments. The drunk biker who caused the accident that turned a double – decker luxury bus into a raging inferno, the travel company who bypassed guidelines while renovating the vehicle, and the bus driver who got his heavy vehicle driving license with false certificates all of which cost the lives of 20 lives in Andhra’s Kurnool tragedy are no doubt deserving of places in hell’s vaunted torture chambers but the truth is only their victims got a taste of hell’s agonizing pain and their loved ones are living it. A young doctor in Maharashtra took her own life blaming sexual assault and the constant pressure to falsify certificates by a cop and political underlings for her decision, choosing death over hell.

A casual scan of the headlines on any given day confirms that life anywhere in the planet has acquired hellish dimensions. Yet, for the privileged populace who have mercifully been spared such horrors, the many versions of hell on earth is just another scary movie that has the ability to make even the most desensitized feel something akin to terror or sorrow but mostly serves to entertain and rescue from ennui. For the only thing most truly cannot abide and will do anything to avert is boredom. The rest neither matters nor merits getting out of bed, rolling up the sleeves and doing something, anything, to facilitate change in an increasingly cruel and corrupt world that simply doesn’t care about countless lives routinely getting ground up in the tragedy mill via entirely preventable ways.

Yet, make no mistake, everybody is in some form of hell. Even if for umpteen folks a hellish ordeal is formulating a suitable email response to an employer’s performance evaluation questionnaire or Tinder rejection. Or staring unblinkingly at a phone screen which is pinging with manic glee bringing to compromised attention, reports about Virat and Rohit’s performance or non – performance and Instagram reels featuring side boobs while missing the wife’s delivery of the firstborn. The notifications are endless and silencing them or changing the settings is only within the purview of non – existent gods. In the meantime, the infernal alerts must be checked every minute with compulsive frenzy just in case something life – changing or life – affirming crops up demanding an immediate reply. Or lest one misses out on something inane because it is trending. This is the daily, eternal grind humanity is trapped in.

After all, oblivion is preferable to not knowing what is right or whom to root for anymore since everyone is a hellion or hellraiser. Moral ambiguity is the norm as is self – serving ambition and personal vanity. Even without the aid of AI, everyone is most articulate in speaking the language of justice, but none can live it. In this virtual panopticon we inhabit irrespective of left or right based ideology, all are capable of performative outrage, faux sensitivity, and affected affinity over lost causes but none can scrounge up the virtue, guts and moral grit to take affirmative action and rescue anyone at all including the self from hell.

This article was originally published in TNIE Magazine

Are we Raising a Generation of Jerks?

 

The world is a horrifying place that can beat the goriest and most grotesque of horror movies hollow on any given day. There are terrors and monsters, frights and chills lurking around every other corner in the spectral forms of war, crime and calculated acts of evil. Most individuals encounter the seven deadly sins – pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth, on a daily basis and when they aren’t the victims, invariably they are the perps. But one of the most jump – scare inducing phenomena witnessed in recent times, is the behaviour of kids which is often so abhorrent they make the creepy children depicted to chilling effect in scary films with their translucent skin, lank hair, and blank but knowing eyes, seem like cuddly cherubs.

For those who have grown up screaming themselves hoarse after watching Samara from The Ring crawl out of the television to kill her victims in puke-worthy ways, seeing pint – sized brats plonked in front of handheld gadgets in public spaces looking somewhat like Rosemary’s Baby can be deeply unsettling. Similarly, the sight of temper – tantrum throwing tykes rolling on the floor, attacking their caregivers with lethal little fists when denied a third helping of ice cream can be reminiscent of Chucky – the serial killer doll, and can loosen the most turgid of bowels. Snotty adolescents and young adults with their rudeness and entitled ways seem to herald a doomed future where Damien from The Omen is in charge of the planet and his mini acolytes feed the adults to sharks and crocs because they can no longer be entertained by the vacuous content on streaming platforms or porn. 

Naturally, most parents would disagree. In their eyes, their precious boos are perfect little Princesses and Princes who deserve nothing less than everything served up on a platinum platter. Many mommies and daddies are committed to raising their beloved babies in a cocoon of love and indulgence minus discipline which will maximise their chances of becoming a popstar, superstar or sports - star or fast – track their way to an M.D/Ph.D or Noble Prize. Naturally, this means insulating the child from any semblance of normalcy and ensuring they retain the spoilt – brattishness that is being inculcated into their Peter Pan personas so that they never ever grow up to become useful human beings who are not a menace to society.

Since a majority of parents have proved incapable of modelling kindness, decency and generosity in front of their kids, it might be best if parenting were entrusted to trained professionals. We seek expert help when the AC needs to be fixed, when diagnosed with cancer, or if a murder has been committed. Why then do we not do the same when faced with raising children which is the toughest task of all? Since the future depends on gen next, it might be best if we employ radical means and conventional wisdom to make sure they don’t all grow up to be hardened jerks. Like us.

Disclaimer: No brats were harmed in the writing of this article and not all children are ruffians in the making.

This article was originally published in TNIE magazine

Rendering Religion Redundant

 

Karl Marx famously disparaged religion as “the opium of the masses”. Though my German is even poorer than my Hindi, I take it that that Marx felt religion was a clever tool wielded by the powerful to not only oppress the overworked and underpaid majority but to make them feel better about their oppression by encouraging them to fixate on faith – based fixes since they couldn’t afford opiates and float their way out of poverty and pain on a pleasurable cloud of oblivion. Since Marx’s time, politicians and their billionaire backers have come up with many innovations to further subjugate the suppressed with liquor guaranteed to end suffering via cirrhosis of the liver, freebies and pornography to delight the heart and loins, and cheap entertainment accessible 24/7 on mobile phones. Religion, however, remains the favourite with the ridiculously and rabidly religious rapidly becoming a plague on an already diseased civilized world.

Ironically, though the core doctrine of most religions endorses love, peace and compassion, the revival of faith-based conflict and violence witnessed in recent times has seen religion commonly associated with hate, intolerance, and heightened aggression. Even as the situation worsens in Gaza and people across the world are slamming Israel and its allies as perpetrators and enablers of genocide, the slaughter of the Islamist population in that contested strip of ‘holy land’ continues unabated. Religious fanaticism has raised its ugly head elsewhere too.

In China, Uighur Muslims are routinely persecuted and herded into labour camps, as are the Rohingya in Myanmar. In the middle East, Sunni and Shia Muslims battle it out for domination as do the Muslims and Catholics in Bosnia and Kosovo. Islamic extremists wage their global jihad undeterred by concentrated efforts to shut them down. Hostilities have increased against religious minorities be they Hindus, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, and Catholics in many parts of the world. Closer home, in India the ruling party has been accused of actively promoting Hindu and Hindi interests to the detriment of all else.

To be fair, religion and the religious leaders who are not actively invoking violence in the name of faith have done some good in this divided world. The devotees who have not become radicalized or taken up terrorism have actively involved themselves with helping the poor, marginalized and victims of war. Relief and charitable efforts have been made possible through the efforts of the faithful mobilized by temples, churches, mosques, synagogues working in tandem with humanitarian agencies and welfare organizations. Interfaith dialogues have also facilitated initiatives to promote peace, human rights and non – violence.

Even so, if the security blanket of religion is taken away it is possible that people wouldn’t be so preoccupied with the futile effort to secure a ticket to paradise using the currency of blind faith, prayer, and ritual worship. Without the highs and lows of religious relief they may be forced out of their collective torpor to address the widening wealth gap and income inequalitythat impacts them directly. Combined effort might even create a better world where all are equal and there is absolutely no need for a toxic drug like religion.

 

This article was published in TNIE Magazine.

FRUSTRATING FOMO AND FINDING FULFILLMENT

 

There is only one thing worse than being inundated with invitations to an endless array of ‘happening’ events I feel compelled to attend even though I would rather be chilling in bed with a show and cheese popcorn on the side and that is not being inundated with invitations to the aforementioned shindigs. That is when I find myself staring morosely at the Pringles, I am going to hate myself for scarfing down while watching Mike Flanagan’s latest attempt at elevated horror on Netflix, liking him a lot and hating him a little for having such a happening career, forcing me to contemplate the many boxes left unticked on the achievement front. Between episodes, I scroll aimlessly through social media feeds where everyone seems to be doing something that could pass for exciting, aggravating the ever-present FOMO. For the uninformed, that is the ‘fear of missing out.’

Some of us are preoccupied with ageing and the terrifying inevitability of it prompts us to counter this by packing every single moment with momentous activity, because nobody wants to confront death, filled to the brim with regret. As some tiresome wiseacre unwisely said, once upon a time, you only ever regret the things you didn’t do. Which is why I am forever trying to push myself out of comfort zones with the intention to broaden the horizon a bit just so I can feel that I am doing something worthwhile with life’s finite supply of time. This commitment to future me who is on the brink of kicking the bucket and needs to be comforted by a barrage of memories celebrating glowing achievements and epic milestones is exhausting and endlessly frustrating. What is the point of berating myself for not doing enough when it ends up feeling like it is all too much?

Nowadays, I am teaching myself to do little things that generate fulfilment even if it does not qualify as useful or productive enough to be featured on my resume or Insta post. I might be missing out on doing something awesome by saying no to an invitation because my gut registered a protest but that no longer feels awful. Nor does it seem like a catastrophe of earth – shattering proportions because invitations aren’t forthcoming, except when it does. But that is nothing a soul – satisfying activity like an extra hour of yoga, playing with my pups, or a long conversation with a good friend can’t fix.

As a society we have become fixated with using time efficiently to rack up economic as well as experiential gains, that will allow us to fully flourish. We are expected to maximise not just work but leisure time, because our value is calculated by the things we do or at least seem to be doing. All the damn time. This ‘let us live life to the fullest’ and ‘make every moment the best one yet’ business is a crock of crap guaranteed to kill us quicker via hypertension. There is nothing wrong with ambition and aspiration, but it is also okay to simply survive without feeling the need to thrive all the time.

This article was published in TNIE Magazine

Before Breaking News Breaks

 

Thanks to false modesty, I did not show off. But that is no longer an excuse because it is finally acceptable to brag about mediocrity across every available platform. In fact, if you are willing to embrace the holiday spirit, and discard the wise teachings of Scrooge pertaining to parsimony, you can Tom-tom the fact that you won an award (that you paid for) declaring you the International Human of the Year, and make sure it reaches the furthest reaches of the galaxy. My talent on the other hand is tremendous news. And it is related to the news. I can predict the news with pinpoint accuracy, long before it happens or supposedly happened. Feel free to share this news with everyone, so that I can get the recognition I richly deserve.

For sticklers who demand proof, I am happy to provide the same, provided you are willing to set aside disbelief, scepticism, and the tendency to think the worst of human beings just because most are fraudulent tricksters who will shove their kids or pets off the roof to make a viral video.

The breaking news tomorrow and in the days to come will be outrageous and defy all belief, which is precisely why people will believe it implicitly. Especially since they are not going to read anything beyond the headline. Readers are a critically endangered species, and nobody reads anything longer than 280 characters without the liberal use of emojis to hasten comprehension. Believable or not, this news will be forwarded on WhatsApp where more will hit forward, without reading it first.

You might already be gobsmacked, but I have more to ensure that your head is dangerously close to exploding unable to withstand my brilliance… In future, news will be bad. Much worse than today’s and yesterday’s news which was also bad, but since we have become immune to bad news, we will only respond to worse news which is on the way to becoming horrifying. If that is not exactly good news for people praying for peace in Gaza and an end to the war between Russia and Ukraine, it can’t be helped.

This is all true, because as a columnist for a major news publication, I cannot lie. Unless I am paid to. Which I am not, because the truth is, writers were paid peanuts long before they agreed to work for less since AI types don’t demand salaries or benefits. It is a good thing I am gifted. Now, I know. And thanks to me, you do too. It will rain again in Chennai and there will be flooding because politicians are too busy playing the blame game and siphoning away funds allotted for damage control and preventive measures. Tennis fans will argue over who is the GOAT and things will get ugly when Thalapathy Vijay and SRK fans jump into the fray. Bollywood will continue to make movies featuring nepo babies with less and less to recommend them by way of talent. I could go on… but what is the point? It is bound to get worse from here. Just like I predicted.

This column was published in The New Indian Express.

Stop the Step – Motherly treatment of the Seven Sisters!

 

I was at the Arunachal Literature Festival, held recently, and enjoyed the ‘author life’. But this piece is not about the things authors do to convince themselves that despite the advent of AI, writing as they know it is not entirely redundant. Rather, it is about the things that struck me as I made the arduous, 7 – hour trip by car to Itanagar (after schlepping from Madurai to Chennai to Guwahati) because the flight thither from Guwahati had been cancelled at the nth hour. Some big-name authors used the excuse to absent themselves from the event, but not this author, who will do just about anything to convince people in far flung parts of the country, that they should read books in general and mine in particular.

It was appalling how little I knew about the Northeast. I was ashamed to realise that I didn’t even know which language was spoken in Arunachal Pradesh. I was told there are between 30 – 50 tribal groups in the state, who have their own distinct language, dialects, and sub – dialects. Most spoke Assamese, Nagamese, English and a smattering of Hindi which served as link languages.

During my session on ‘Reimagining Mythology’, I realized that my knowledge of folklore pertaining to the region was non – existent. My only exposure to it was from Easterine Kire, the award-winning author from Nagaland, whose work I have read and admired. Members of the audience wanted to know about the representation of tribal folk in the itihasas, and I was happy to answer though it must be conceded that the limited narrative is almost entirely problematic and needs to be part of a corrective discourse. Rama justifies his abhorrent slaying of Vaali, a Vanara by saying that a kshatriya is well within his rights to hunt and kill animals using any means necessary! We agreed that indigenous legends and myths must be reclaimed. You must be the ones to tell your own stories, I pointed out. Yes, they conceded, but nobody listens to us!

The main issue is that this part of the country has been treated shoddily. There is limited connectivity with the rest of India, poor infrastructure, and a criminal negligence of the needs of the people. Most Indians have vague notions about insurgency and security issues cropping up in these parts, the imposition of the controversial Armed Forces Special Protection Act (AFSPA) leading to many human rights violations and vociferous protests led by the likes of Irom Sharmila. The AFSPA was withdrawn from parts of the region between 2022 – 23, but the Centre keeps a wary eye concerned about security threats from Myanmar and China.

It is not enough to pay attention only when gifted athletes from the area like a Sunil Chettri Mirabai Chanu, Hima Das and mighty Mary Kom emerge, though it is not like India deserves credit for nurturing these talents. We must do more for our brethren hailing from the seven sisters so that they can take pride in being Indian without being made to feel like unwanted children. It is to our eternal shame that we haven’t done so already.

This column was originally published in The New Indian Express.

Diwali Celebrations: Sugar, Sins and Salvation

 

The festival of lights is upon us! That time of the year when we overdress, overspend, overindulge on ghee laden sugary treats, and argue about whether we ought to burst crackers or not before doing it anyway. Feeling guilty over the excess, we wonder if there is a point to all this…

This is the moment when we dredge up legends of yore for their entertainment and edification value. My favourite Diwali story is the one where Narakasura, a legit villainous type whose every pore supposedly oozed evil was slain in a twist worthy of Hitchcock. Naraka was born at the end of Krita Yuga when Vishnu in his Varaha (Boar) avatar took out Hiranyaksha, another legendary baddie whose shocking shenanigans ensured that Bhumi Devi sank to the bottom of the ocean. While Varaha bore her to the surface on his tasks, a single drop of sweat which was the only sign of his mighty exertions, landed on her, impregnating the Goddess.

Besotted with her boy, Bhumi Devi, asked Lord Varaha to grant him immortality. She was gently refused but told that Naraka could only be slain by her hand. Breaking off his tusk, Varaha offered it to Naraka, urging him to stay true to Dharma. This advice was disregarded and Naraka, armed with the promise of invincibility began his reign of terror. His stronghold – Pragjyotishapura, was impregnably fortified and guarded by the deadly Mura.

Naraka eventually went too far, when he raided Indra’s capital – Amaravathi and carried away 16,000 damsels but not before snatching the ear - rings mother Aditi was wearing. Krishna was asked to set him straight. He was with Satyabhama, who had just been complaining that he was always too busy for her. Playfully, grabbing her by the waist he placed her on Garuda, and they took off on a date/perilous mission.

Krishna made short work of Pragjyotishapura’s vaunted defences and slew Mura, earning himself the title of ‘Murari’. Naraka acquitted himself more respectably and using the tusk gifted by Varaha, managed to strike Krishna in the chest. Seeing her husband drop in a dead swoon, Satyabhama realized her date was officially ruined. Enraged, she picked up a bow and released an arrow, which to their combined surprise, mortally wounded Naraka. It was then, that Krishna rose and allowed the truth to shine through. Naraka understood that Varaha’s weapon could not be used against an avatar of Vishnu and that Satyabhama was an incarnation of Bhumi Devi, his mum. Prostrating himself before his parents, he died peacefully having been cleansed of his sins, embracing dharma in his dying moments, fulfilling his purpose in the grand design of the universe, and achieving moksha.

A tearful Bhumi Devi asked Krishna to ensure that Naraka’s memory be preserved for all of time, his life and death celebrated with lights and sweets so that his legend may remind humanity to dispel the evil in their hearts and stay true to Dharma in order that someday, they too may be deemed worthy of redemption. Krishna acceded to her request. True to his word, Diwali has been celebrated ever since and we continue to fight the demons within and without, knowing that damnation is always closer than salvation, but that is no reason to stop trying to be better than we are.

An edited version of this piece was published in The New Indian Express.

A Simpleton’s Guide to Smart Solutions

 

Perhaps being an ignoramus is indeed bliss. Especially in a Fools’ Paradise which some compelling but not entirely credible types claim is what our planet has become. In this blasé and not so brave new world it is not necessarily the height of folly to be foolish. It might even be for the best to be a top of the drawer numbskull who has sworn off all forms of intelligence to better endure the travesty that is life.

Take the global warming crisis for instance. George R.R. Martin fans are not the only ones waiting in vain for The Winds of Winter, his long – awaited book, for their Game of Thrones fix, which it is hoped will make amends for the large-scale trauma inflicted on the unwary by that disastrous final season of the infamous show. This year has remained face - meltingly warm in October, which is definitive proof that global warming is not a conspiracy theory eco warrior nuts pulled out their grass – fed backsides but an unfolding reality. The intellectuals would no doubt have ingenious and commensurately mind – numbing solutions for averting an end – of – the – world crisis but it is better to ignore it in favour of doing something more enjoyable like wiling away rapidly dwindling time by logging in endless hours on handheld devices. Whoever said fools have more fun was not kidding!

The heat must be getting to everyone. It could explain why Russia and Ukraine have been slugging it out without a definitive outcome barring the burgeoning body count. Hard as that was to stomach for those invested in world peace, things worsened when a deadly terror strike launched by Hamas escalated into a full blown catastrophe with Israel, the aggressor and occupier of Palestine, receiving carte blanche from powerful allies like the US and UK to engage in genocide and ethnic cleansing which is what they have been doing to lesser and greater degrees for decades with impunity. Brainiacs with a firm grasp of the geopolitical situation and awareness that Hezbollah is not a euphemism for Hamas, would have some inkling on how best to restore peace. But for the rest of us dingbats, it makes more sense to tune into the cricket world cup because it hurts too much to see children slaughtered and civilians die en masse with the ringing endorsement of the so – called civilized world.

Speaking of cricket, while the performance of the boys in blue has been most heartening, the jingoistic misbehaviour of some of the home crowd evidenced during the matches against Pakistan and Bangladesh has been less so. Smart folks have been equating this with the hyper muscular Hindutva nationalism prevalent today but the fool’s move has been to dwell on preferred reality shows between matches and mine the harrowing footage of tragedy livestreamed worldwide for vacuous entertainment. Exploitation, intrusion, and voyeurism has become the opiate of the moronic masses because it allows you to snicker at suffering rather than become a part of it. Long live the dunces!

This article was originally published in The New Indian Express.

Sweep and Swab more for a Swachher India!

 Loving your country is a lot like loving your spouse. It is complicated. You get mad at him for responding honestly to your query about whether your grey hair is noticeable. But you wouldn’t be too pleased if he flattered to deceive. Honesty is a damnable thing because you are damned if you do and doubly damned if you don’t but according to some famous white and therefore indubitably wise dude, honesty is the best policy especially if money and the future is at stake. Which means, you have to be truthful, even if it makes people accuse you of being anti – national and ask you to remove yourself to a hostile neighbouring nation we play the occasional cricket match with and make a killing via jacked – up ticket prices but not before inundating you with death threats. Of course, I am spared all this because barring a few bots who can’t be bothered to bicker with me, nobody cares about my carping.

Therefore, I can complain about an oft ignored issue that has rendered our country grotesque. India is not just an EYESORE but an EXCRESCENCE upon the face of this planet. Of course, this nation is blessed with an abundance of natural beauty, but we have only Indians to blame for literally crapping over it and begriming the bounties of Mother Earth with our disgraceful tendency to prioritize godliness and just about everything else over cleanliness and making a godawful mess.

Of the millions of tonnes of garbage India generates, precious little is segregated, treated, and responsibly disposed. Carelessly discarded trash that does not choke up every inch of available public space ends up in hastily erected dumps conveniently close to slums where they become the problem of the poor. The responsibility for dealing with detritus rests on rag pickers who receive no formal training and no safety equipment to protect themselves from hazardous wastes and safeguard their health. Indiscriminate burning in these sites causes pollution and the cancer – causing smoke which lingers thickly in the vicinity for days is a menace. A lot of the debris is discharged into sewers, drains and rivers poisoning our water and food.

A majority of the populace has no concept of waste management that requires you to reduce, reuse and recycle. There are too few dustbins for public use and even these are always overflowing. Worst of all, are the citizens who are forever littering, spitting, pissing, and defecating wherever they please. Our government has introduced solid waste management rules and apparently there is improvement in door – to - door collection of garbage, measures have been implemented to install waste processing and recycling plants, convert landfills to parks and preserve our water bodies but there is a lot more that needs to be done for stricter enforcement of hygiene measures over and above the nattering about Swachh Bharat by celeb types on social media. Otherwise, it is only a matter of time before India is submerged in a sea of sewage.

This article was originally published in The New Indian Express.

TO MAKE ROOM FOR A VIEW OTHER THAN OURS

 

A quick scan of trending news feels like deja - vu. Those of us not over the moon with joy with the successful landing of Chandrayaan – 3 and taken off to the weird new world of Elon Musk’s mysterious X to celebrate the heroics of chess prodigy, Praggnanandhaa as well as Neeraj Chopra’s gold at the World Athletics Championships are busy lamenting the state of a country where a teacher egged on her students to beat up one of their own while harping on unforgivably about his Muslim identity.

In fair Madhya Pradesh, a Dalit woman was stripped, and her son killed by a mob, hellbent on pressuring her daughter to withdraw a sexual assault case she had filled. Those who had tuned out the news preferring to binge watch season 2 of the hit Amazon Prime series – Made In Heaven could not help notice the very public feud provoked by a controversial episode featuring a Dalit wedding where the protagonist played by a fiery Radhika Apte asserts her rights to have a ceremony that reflects her roots. The kerfuffle was between the Dalit director of the episode – Neeraj Ghaywan, Dalit author Yashica Dutt, who argued that her life and works had been appropriated without recognition or renumeration and Dalit legal scholar, Sumit Baudh who claimed in a tweet that Dutt herself had not given him credit for an idea she had appropriated from his article.

In all these instances, one can see the familiar pattern of charged encounters along the divides of national pride, caste identity, political affiliations and religious sentiment which has led to escalating conflict in a divided society where nobody gives an inch, and everybody spews out volcanic rage. Worse, there seems to be no resolution in sight but that doesn’t seem to deter anyone because these public altercations ensures that the people involved get some much-desired visibility and an army of like – minded followers, which appears to be a somewhat self – defeating and morally dubious end goal which nevertheless has the potential to be leveraged for big bucks.

The mainstream news media has long been playing its part in generating chaos and pandering to a simplistic, tidy narrative where in the interests of coherence and brevity, complexity and compassion has been severely compromised, creating a warped reality where one side is purely good and the other is entirely evil. We seem to have deliberately forgotten that all human beings are complex, contradictory creatures with varying views and moral ambiguities. This Us versus Them mentality has sucked the oxygen out of every heated discourse leaving us gasping for air, in a perpetual state of agitation with its ugly sister, aggression for company and our brains deprived of good sense.

In this era of slavish devotion to a politically correct narrative formulated by self – serving activists more committed to looking good rather than doing good, it is not surprising that we all have leaned into an innate confirmation bias where we increasingly choose to believe news and Whatsapp forwards that confirm our personal beliefs while dismissing all evidence to the contrary. Many no longer trust formerly respected news outlets because they are tired of being afraid and have had it up to the gills with the endless cycle of rage, rebuke, and recriminations that leads nowhere and does little to empower the downtrodden while bringing about the betterment of society at large.

If we wish to excavate deeper, life affirming truths instead of grappling in the dirt at a very superficial level, where core issues are concerned, it is necessary to make room for complexity and nuance with the view to listen and understand the motivations of those whose views are not necessarily aligned to our own. It won’t change the world, but we can hope that this might lead to a future where we are all polite to each other, choose to be nice rather than nasty and make room for real conversations on dicey subjects where everybody feels listened to and understood rather than condemned and scorned. 

Bewitching Barbie and Bread Pudding for Brains

The feminist dream of a world where women and men work together to reduce and gradually topple unequal social structures to ensure equal rights and social justice for all is an improbable fantasy. Too many men and women are too committed to the existing status quo where the benefits are manifold for those who sell their souls and silence their conscience to better kowtow to entrenched patriarchy. It is also the reason crimes against women and minorities persist with alarming regularity with no hope of justice for victims; wars continue to be fought in the interest of preserving the interests of the oligarchy; global warming and its implications for humanity will be brushed aside, because plastic needs to be used and sold so that fat cats can grow fatter and so on and so forth. 

It takes gut wrenching effort and soul crushing sacrifice to bring about lasting change. Who the hell can be bothered with all that when it is so much easier to be a part of the problem in a benign way? Where you can bow down before the Gods of capitalism in exchange for their benevolent assurance that you remain ever wrapped in the cold embrace of materialistic excess. When it is okay to lean into your inbuilt narcissistic tendencies and call it individualistic altruism because PC lingo is everything. Where it is perfectly acceptable to allow your brains to become bread pudding from the constant bombardment of exquisite imagery on your preferred screen crafted by those who have been paid to tell you what to think.

In this climate, of course Barbie – the movie would be a humongous blockbuster. Even though the explosion of pink, which despite being my favourite colour makes me feel like I have been chained and imprisoned in Dolores Umbridge’s basement. For the uninformed, she is a character in Harry Potter who uses pops of poisonous pink and a sickly sweet manner to disguise the extent of the hatred, intolerance and cruelty that actually defines her. While I have no intention of watching the movie, thanks to Greta Gerwig, who made the extraordinary Lady Bird, I have no doubt that Barbie is now funny, smart and endearing but pernicious as ever. 

After all, the truth is women, like Barbie herself, can be whatever they want to be as long as they expend all they have to be pretty and perfect as a doll. It is the surest way to guarantee success and be valued. Talent, intelligence, and aspirations count only if it is wrapped up in a glittering package that includes a gorgeous smile, great hair, glowing skin, a hot bod and overall compliance. It is only to be expected in a world where the feminist dream has been traded in to sell IP for Mattel and the rest of their ilk. Now if you will excuse me, I am off to buy a pink dress, shoes and accessories. Later, I’ll watch La La Land and let Ryan Gosling do his thing, so I can just stop thinking about impossible dreams. 

This column was originally published in TNIE magazine.

Good, Bad and Ugly News

 

I like receiving notifications from News apps. This way, I can pretend I know exactly what is happening in the world. Thanks to these timely alerts, I know that Meghan Markle is no longer as loved as she used to be, because too many have taken on her brand of self - pity politics, grievance – hawking and aggressive self – marketing to ensure that her success exceeds her meagre talents and made it their own. I have also been made aware, despite repeated hints that ‘news’ of this nature does not really rock my boat that Vijay Varma and Tamannaah Bhatia are dating post their ill – advised forays in Lust Story 2. Cricket lovers are gung-ho about whatever is happening at the Ashes series. While I myself have no idea about what constitutes the difference between white, red and blue balls, (although I think Kookaburras, a bird that may or may not be mythical is involved), I do know that Virat Kohli thinks that Ben Stokes is the most competitive bloke he has played against. I have also been informed, that political players across the world continue to generate all kinds of drama. But I’ll be damned if I know exactly what that is all about.

One such notification, informed me that a Jo Lindner - Bodybuilder and influencer had died at 30, from a sudden aneurysm. His many fans have compared him to Arnold Schwarzenegger while his critics hated on him, insisting that he was a steroid user. Jo himself had admitted as much in a candid YouTube video.

In a sea of negative news cycles, which reiterate our secret fear that we are all doomed, something like the passing of a good – looking, gym – ripped hunk of youth is deemed newsworthy because the tragedy is strangely comforting to a great majority who can’t be influenced into working out and eating right, just so they can get skinny, post pics of themselves sipping green smoothies and flaunting washboard abs to gain a devoted fanbase on Instagram. Most of us would rather tsk at Jo’s untimely demise because it is reinforcement of our preferred belief that the societal standard of physical beauty is hardly ideal and certainly does not mean that the fit and fabulous are healthier than their chubby counterparts even if the latter may be committed couch potatoes with a partiality for the guilty pleasures of Nutella and Lotus Biscoff.

Let’s face it. The benefits are many for those who wake up at 5 am, meditate, practise hot yoga and intermittent fasting, derive satisfaction from small pleasures, embrace positivity and appreciate sunsets and the many phases of the moon. But it might not be the worst thing in the world to work out by reading a hefty book, eating ice cream and making peace with your choices even if they are perceived to be imperfect. Who knows it might just prolong your life. Or cut it short. But it might not matter, just as long as you are happy and comfortable in your own skin. And avoid the news in favour of discerning, topical columns written by yours truly.

An edited version of this piece was published in The New Indian Express.

Laws by Men, For Men, Stacked Against Survivors

 

Prosecuting sex crimes is starting to seem like an impossible business. Just ask Sakshi Malik, Vinesh Phogat, the victims in Kalakshetra or the hundreds of other women who have reported cases of sexual assault and harassment only to run into a wall of resistance designed to grind them down till they are silenced for good. This is not a problem unique to India. Even in the post #MeToo world, there are those like Judge Robin Camp aka the ‘Knees – Together Judge’ who in 2017, ruled against the 19 – year old complainant citing that she could have prevented being raped if she had just kept her knees together! This mind – boggling verdict was upheld in a retrial with a new judge. There are others like Camp who find in favour of the aggressor brazenly spouting bilge along similar lines. The issues resulting in the miscarriage of justice when it comes to sex – related offenses are easy enough to pinpoint.

The abysmally low conviction rate is due to how rape is largely perceived. Thanks to movies and cheap pornography, where the violation of women is either mined for maximum titillation or the gore factor, victims are either believed to be into it or are expected to kill themselves, since suicide is the only ‘honourable’ course of action for a woman whose ‘purity’ has been sullied. Those ‘unnatural’ creatures who refuse to shut up, opting to file cases against perpetrators, demanding justice are seen as uppity harridans who are routinely retraumatized, accused of promiscuity, threatened, and disbelieved. It doesn’t help that in a world where fake news is peddled as the truth and increasingly leftist/rightist ideology – driven journalism where the detached commitment to reporting the facts alone has become an obsolete practise, it is easy enough to dismiss survivors as making it all up for their five seconds of fame or levelling false charges as revenge against former boyfriends after ugly breakups.

The burden of proof rests with the accuser and in most cases, bulletproof evidence that sexual violence occurred is impossible to produce. Mostly, it comes down to a ‘He said, She said’ scenario. Many powerful defendants have no trouble quashing the cases even when there are multiple complainants and strike back by filing defamation cases against those who named and shamed them publicly.

The legal system designed by men for men, is stacked against the survivors. It takes forever for a case to make it to the courts, requiring the expenditure of money, time and effort. Most back off unable to withstand the bullying of aggressive lawyers and public censure. Those who don’t are more likely to be claimed by old age before a verdict is delivered. And even, then it is unlikely to be favourable. 

Women fighting for justice face insurmountable challenges worsened by caste bias, illiteracy, poverty, rank corruption and a legal system that fails them repeatedly. But now more than ever it is imperative to keep fighting the odds. To do that we must never give up and add our voices to those of the brave women who refuse to be silenced though they have everything to lose.

This article originally appeared in The New Indian Express.

Hashing out the Harsh Truths behind Hashtags

 Hashtags that set social media ablaze tend to be ominous beings that mutate into somethingbigger and uglier in seconds. They lurch along in true monster style dividing people into opposing camps who shovel s**t at each other before piping down, since the creature that stirred up such divisive sentiment has simply vanished in a puff of digital smoke, having achieved its mission to divide without conquering or liberating. Besides being almost entirely useless, hashtags serve a sort of purpose. They reveal much about those of us who generate these thingamajigs and waste our lives watching them play out in virtual time, preferably in the form of easily consumed reels or tweets as per our personal penchant for prejudice.

Take the #TheKeralaStory for instance. It reveals that though we mindlessly consume content which has been hastily assembled with the view only to make a profit, without caring a crap for political or social consequences, folks will still argue about whether Bollywood and the patented brand of balderdash with a heavy helping of baloney it belts out, has the capacity to divide people along the lines of religion and endanger secular India and everything it stands for. In the meantime, most of us still in pocession of a semblance of sense have little patience for indifferent Gods and the more moronic of their followers because we'd rather watch #GuardiansoftheGalaxy3 since Superheroes are sexier and don't bore us with tedious talk of sin and shame.

Speaking of shame, #WrestlersProtest tells us that sexual harassment remains an inconvenient truth which we Indians insist on burying under the carpet because who amongst us has the bandwidth to deal with the whole He said She said hoo-ha which is destined to remain inconclusive though protestors carry on protesting till they are fit to burst? We prefer to wear them out with indifference and further abuse till they can protest no more. And when the issue persists and victims continue to be victimized by powerful predators giving rise to further hashtags, we merely shrug in exasperation or blame the victims for being falsely implicated in their victimhood before turning to #IPL2023 for more mindless entertainment. Like the #KohliGambhirFight. It confirms what we already knew. Most Delhites are angrier and more aggressive than most and think the rest of us are worth less than the dirt beneath their shoes. We bristle with outrage and feel better about ourselves by treating those we consider beneath us worse than dirt.

The advocates of #SameSexMarriage will certainly attest to being treated horrendously in the land where the Kamasutra which was light years ahead of its time in terms of addressing gender as well as sexual fluidity was written. We know that love can never tear apart the fabric of society but who wants to get involved in this farcical fracas when it is simpler to fixate on our own love lives and marital problems or Malaika Arora's vacation pics with Arjun Kapoor?

Hashtags themselves come and go too quickly to be too harmful but what is far more alarming is the hopelessness of the human condition they so clearly elucidate.

On Monstrous Men Who Create Merciless Machines

 

I once read a book by Terry Brooks, where the powerful Druid, Walker Boh is trapped by genius machines created by foolish men. Victimized by the soullessness of the true machine, he is pinioned on a sterile table with invasive tubes attached to him, and fed lifelike visions where he is fleeing from repeated attacks by relentless creepers of steel that seek to cut him up and is forced to use magic to defend himself. The machines then siphon away the potent energy expended and use it to power their cells. Poor Walker is helpless to defend himself, and the machines are perfectly content to let him keep at it, without respite, till even his formidable mind, cracks under the ceaseless strain. This is somewhat like the Matrix movies, but scarier.

Sometimes, I am convinced that we are all doomed to suffer the same fate as Walker, except, we choose to be trapped in an alternate reality, expending our vital life force on infinite inanities, so that we don’t have to cope with the evils of a broken world. How else do we explain the unvarying nature of crime and consequences? Of life’s predictable pattern of chasing highs which plunge us into fathomless lows? We are being fed the same stories with only a few variables altered, to trigger us into responding with incoherent rage. We flail at shadowy oppressors with all the ‘weapons’ in our arsenal, believing we are slaying them and making a difference. We keep tilting ferociously at nebulous nothings hoping that something will change.

It was only as recently as 2020, when the molten rage of the public spilled over when Bennix and Jayaraj became victims of custodial torture in TN. Now, we are directing our ire at ASP Balveer Singh, accused of torturing as many as ten suspects, two of whom were minors at the Ambasamudram police station. Apparently, he yanked out teeth using pliers, crushed testicles and used the police baton to devastating effect. Elsewhere, in the hallowed premises of Kalakshetra, a bastion of culture and tradition, founded by the legendary Rukmini Devi Arundale, allegations of sexual harassment have flown thick and fast, not long after the #MeToo movement, promising positive change, ran out of steam. Meanwhile, a video of the Dalai Lama asking a little boy to suck on his tongue has gone viral. In all these cases, there has been condemnation aplenty. But a familiar pattern has emerged with higher ups demonstrating a fierce commitment towards protecting the accused while leaving the victims to deal with the nuclear fallout. The same as always.

Clearly, things will never change if we stick to tried and tested non – solutions for societal ills. Where we allow our deep-seated fear of tackling the powerful, for fear of ruination, rule us to the point where we are happy to kowtow to a system designed to let the strong thrive while the weak are crushed.

Perhaps, it is best to let the machines take charge. The hope is that we can program them to do better than us. While we sink deeper into a morass of merciful oblivion.

My Sunday Column for The New Indian Express

NO COUNTRY FOR LOVE

 

Last Sunday, I read a news article about two Bengaluru cops who were suspended after they extorted money from a couple returning home from a party, insisting that according to the rules, they were not allowed to walk on the streets after 11 pm. The married duo had their phones confiscated, were put through a gruelling interrogation and threatened with imprisonment if they didn’t pay up. The frazzled husband revealed the details about his ordeal on Twitter and after his tweet went viral, the Deputy Commissioner of Police, clarified that there was no rule preventing people from walking on the road at any time of the night before taking action against the errant constables.

Now, this qualifies as a happy ending since too often, justice is delayed and denied in India. It is also a heartening reminder that occasionally, social media can be a useful tool to redress a wrong. However, I couldn’t help thinking that this ugly incident is so typical in modern India. For some reason, so many get outraged and there is a lot of finger – wagging as well as outright condemnation when couples are spotted doing something as innocuous as holding hands and walking on the road. Practically everybody wants to throw the book at lovers if they so much as kiss in darkened theatres or parks. The backlash is instantaneous and often ugly, forcing smitten youngsters to sneak around and seek out isolated places far from prying eyes with the result that they often put themselves at heightened risk for harassment, blackmail, and further violence.

On the other hand, the average Indian doesn’t get hot and bothered when folks piss and poop in public uncaring about the strain they are subjecting unwary eyeballs to. Those who are critical about such unacceptable behaviour are themselves criticized for not checking their privilege and told that there are more temples than toilets in India, as if this somehow makes public defecation acceptable. Most are similarly unconcerned when gross uncles burp/fart loudly or dig their nostrils in full view of all and sundry. However, the same people insist that all things remotely related to love and sex be treated as filthy (chee!) to be confined to dark, dingy rooms, preferably beneath suffocating sheets if you are married and strictly forbidden if you are not.

After all, this is our culture, never mind that the Kamasutra was written in India and temples at Konark and Khajuraho reveal that in the distant past, Indians had a more enlightened view on intimacy and erotica. No wonder so many of us are incapable of healthy relationships and hopelessly ignorant about reproductive health or practising safe sex. We would do well to go for an attitude transplant as a nation, instead of persecuting lovers and blaming films like Arjun Reddy, Pushpa and Kantara for the prevalent toxicity or there will be more news stories about couples getting killed or gruesomely punished in a land where hatred and intolerance has prevailed over love and acceptance.

This article was originally published in The New Indian Express Magazine.

Toxicity of the Blue Tick Twitterati

 

Twitter is a fascinating place. It is always good for entertainment, if nothing else. People are forever attacking one another over principles and personal preferences. It is usually a scream to view the shouting matches between the senseless trolls on either side of the ideological divide as they attack each other over trending topics pertaining to politics, religion, human rights, Virat Kohli's form, Kim Kardashian's butt and Alia Bhatt's baby name preferences.

The insufferable opinions of the obnoxious and the offensive are always available for your viewing pleasure. The  humble Tweeple get to be schooled by the Twitterati, the blue-blooded wielders of the coveted blue tick on all things inane, irrational and irritating. Ostensibly, these are the 'verified' accounts that authenticate identity and establish holders such as politicians, film/sports stars, media personnel, big business types and influencers with an insane follower count as 'trustworthy'.

In short, the chosen ones are the powerful and popular folks who have been selected as the manipulators of public opinion to further agendas that can be counted on to do absolutely nothing to bring about the greater good, even if they vociferously claim otherwise. The violent, vitriol-filled rhetoric against JK Rowling, which is less of an attempt to uphold trans rights and more of a concentrated attack against a powerful woman not afraid to fight for women’s safety, is a case in point. 

Recently, Twitter experienced extreme turmoil when the newly anointed Chief Twit, Elon Musk, upended the status quo by rolling out the Blue subscription  service, allowing users to pay a monthly fee for the privilege of becoming the proud owner of a blue tick. Naturally, the Twitterati have their innards in a twist, claiming that such a move would lead to a proliferation of fake accounts leading to misinformation, which could weaponise the platform and jeopardise world peace.  Apparently that is not at all how things stood in the fairy land that was Twitter before Musk made his move.

Of course, I am one of those who have chosen not to cough up the fee, since by miraculous happenstance, I have a blue tick on Instagram, which has caused my stock to skyrocket with my daughters and nephews. In this economy, it is my advise that others follow my lead guided by parsimony, not principles. After all, the beauty of Twitter is that it will always remain the anarchic hellhole it was engineered to be.  

Even if you get a grip on the deep-seated desire to wile away the good years in your life by endlessly scrolling through Twitter feeds with breaks for Instagram until death does you in, you walk away with the empty yet satisfying knowledge that you have done nothing at all that might be construed as useful or enriching. And you will definitely be back for more.  

#MeToo: Missing justice in hashtag activism

The #MeToo movement, a volcanic eruption of long-suppressed pain and rage from victims of abuse, was a global revolution that sought to smoke out offenders, expose their deeds and mete out punishment. Many survivors found the courage to come forward, name and shame offenders, shed the baggage 

of trauma, and facilitate healing. Some of the perpetrators were prosecuted or cancelled outright, victims received financial aid, workplace and educational institutions framed policies to safeguard women, the statute of limitation for reporting abuse became elasticised and some of us dared to dream of a world where women were not treated as sexual toys. But that was always a foolish hope.

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For, in the real world, far away from social media, consequences were far more severe for victims. They won in the court of public opinion, but mostly lost in actual courts, where decisions in these sensitive cases are based on hard-to-prove facts and near-nonexistent evidence. Consequently, many bravehearts have been countersued for defamation, slut-shamed, and suffered professional setbacks. Meanwhile, the likes of Sajid Khan find themselves in the news, having capitalised on their notoriety. 

This is hardly surprising since hashtag activism inevitably putters to a standstill. All it takes is celebs dropping pics of their weddings, baby showers, unclothed selves or funny videos of pampered pets to divert public attention. Moreover, social media trials often generate sympathy for aggressors since folks who haven’t had their brains woke-washed invariably feel that justice was not served as due process was ignored, never mind that the lame-duck legal system has repeatedly let down the injured party. 

The upshot is that #MeToo seems committed to fanning public outrage and populist pandering, which saw it accused of diluting the menace of sex crimes by lumping everything from flirtation in the workplace to sexual assault together, resulting in the doling out of punishment that is both disproportionate as well as inadequate, enabling some to manipulate it for their own ends. Meanwhile, the movement did not do enough to change deeply entrenched patriarchal mindsets and cultural beliefs that expect women to shut up and put up.

The solution, thus, lies not in vigilante-style justice meted out by a moralistic mob on internet forums, but in fixing a broken justice system and prioritising the rights of women. Prevention is still key. We need to implement rules that guarantee safe spaces for women. Mostly, the battle for gender equality, sensitisation and inclusion of LGBTQ is going to be a long-drawn-out, painful process, which demands that we fight the good fight with dedication, humanity and mindfulness rather than twiddling our thumbs, Twitterati style. 

This article originally appeared in The New Indian Express Magazine.