HP Assembly elections 2017: Will anything change for the better?

The HP assembly elections are round the corner. The climax is gradually building up. While our hill state basks in the glory of silvery autumnal sunshine of October-November, soon, very soon, political temperature will begin to soar…it already has, in fact. Loud cacophony packed with abuse and counter abuse, mutual mudslinging, accusations and counter accusations, lies and damn lies by the rival parties and contestants will split our ears and pollute our clear skies and clean air. Sheer propaganda lacking any substance will be unleashed on the credulous masses to divert attention and focus from the real issues that dog our state. The outgoing government will sing tuneless, jarring songs of “stupendous development” during its tenure and dish out reams of misleading statistical data and figures. The opposition will go all out to pull its leg and enlist govt failures in a mindless counter offensive just for the sake of opposing. Thus the slanging match will go on and on. Charges of corruption, money laundering, scams will be hurled at each other. But as you know very well, the leaders across the political spectrum have mastered the art of skulduggery and subterfuge. Howsoever serious and even if  under judicial scrutiny, they will wash off the taint of charges with  standard excuses and phrases like “political vendetta”, “political vengeance”– as if we are all fools – instead of coming out with credible point by point rebuttal of each and every charge that has been slapped  on them. And I repeat, this applies to all and not any single party or individual leader.

Further, as we can see, the political ‘biggies’ will ensure that  excepting very few noble exceptions, the bunch of men and women they will field from their respective parties for elections are known not so much for their merit, education, capability, vision or zeal for public good but one single criterion: loyalty to the supremo and the high command. Fielding candidates of mediocrity and of relatively low calibre is a win-win situation for the mighty lords who control the reins of power in their own political parties. Because then none of them will pose an existential threat to the ‘throne’ and fiefdom and thus the ‘dynastic principle’ will stay on and perpetuate itself. Not that leaders imbued with dynamism, dare and righteousness are not there. But in this rotten political system geared toward promoting mediocrity and chamchagiri, where is the scope for such leaders to take the lead?  Another unmistakable aspect has been and would be the caste factor. Candidates will be picked up for fighting elections on sheer caste calculations of the constituency rather than the suitability of the candidate to deliver on development of the area. Thus, yet again, the venom of casteism and regionalism will be injected into the psyche of the janta who otherwise want to get over with such kind of fissiparous thoughts and want to live in a harmonious, inclusive environment of आपसी भाईचारा and सदभाव. Then when the D-day will approach near, despite EC’s watchful eye, carloads of money and gallonfuls of liquor will be used on the sly to woo and win the voters.

What will again be missing in these elections?

A reasoned, cogent debate on the real issues and problems that confront the state.

A mutually agreed upon ‘common minimum programme’ for sustainable,  holistic development of the state that will be carried out irrespective of whichever  party assumes power.

How enlightening and wonderful it would be if the big leaders, or in other words the potential chief ministerial candidates of both the Congress and the BJP, volunteer themselves for a free and open debate on “the agenda of development for HP” on some credible national TV channel: NDTV for instance with Ravish Kumar, the suave but straight and fearless anchor, to moderate the debate. Let Ravish ask them hard questions on their respective vision, goals and the blueprint for development (and even on charges of corruption) and let the viewing public evaluate who has the better vision and the wherewithal to deliver. But I assure you none of them will ever dare do it. Hoodwinking the masses and feeding them on false hopes and promises is a far easier option, isn’t it? Further, sadly, none of the leaders or the parties will ever speak about preserving the rapidly declining ‘green cover’; of credible measures and safeguards against the natural calamities and catastrophes happening  with increasing frequency and intensity year after year as a result of degrading ecology and climate change.

Thus another batch of legislators will take over to enjoy power and fat perks, public would have been fooled yet again and once again the sickly, tired, rusty, creaky mill of governance will begin to churn out its usual bland, insipid, stale stuff in an exercise of बंदरबाँट  - a school here, a tehsil there - by the ‘Mr Chief Minister’ lording over his dummies and pygmies: all in the name of ‘development’.

                

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Hoopoe, oh dear Hoopoe, where are you? This sad birdwatcher sorely misses you

                           

Lovely and loveable Hoopoe! I simply adore this bird. A small, myna-sized avian friend, it has such a pretty fawn-coloured plumage with black and white zebra markings hand-crafted by nature into an interesting geometric design on the back, wings and tail. A charming, fan-shaped crest on the head adds to its overall beauty and grace; the long, slender, curvaceous beak no less. On its plumage, stylish crest in particular (Hoopoe’s very own fashion statement, I would say), M Krishnan, one of India’s finest birdmen (next to Salim Ali) and known for his scintillating writings on birds/wildlife has the following to say:

“The very full crest is spread out into a flamboyant fan, then suddenly shut tight into a spike counterbalancing the curved line of the beak, this gesture being repeated again and again as if to relieve the tedium of the long, pedestrian search for food. There are many birds with highly emotional tails, but here it is the head that wears the crown that is uneasy. The folding and unfolding of the volatile crest express the entire emotional range of the bird, and each passing mood. I have seen a Hoopoe indulge in this play with its crest six times within a minute for no reason that I could discern, but there are rules regulating its conduct in search of prey, or when it takes off from the ground, the crest is shut close, and just before alighting from flight it is fanned out as fully as it can be…

Hoopoe on the lawn is strikingly decorative as any bird of strange plumage, though it is fulfilling a daily need and being useful to us-- how rarely does beauty go with routine need and utility! As the bird moves forward on invisible feet, the slanting sun touches it, turning the fulvous sienna (brownish yellow) of its breast and crest to liquid gold, revealing fully the emphatic contrasts of black and white in the back….”
That was the distinguished M Krishnan on Hoopoe.

I, a humble Palampurwalla,  often used to meet this bird in the open grassland near Differpat (beside the road from SSB chowk to  Neugal café, Palampur) on my morning walks and feel thrilled by its sight. At times a Hoopoe would - out of nowhere - descend on the outer, grassy part of our courtyard in search of worms, grubs and insects- its staple food. However, sadly, I see this bird no more. The large sloping meadow at Differpat now supports two eye sores:  a government tea nursery and a big PWD store. Some buildings too have come up virtually obliterating this patch of green where once sheep and cattle used to graze and young boys and girls played their छुपन-छुपाई, स्टापू, फिड्डु and other such rural games now almost extinct. Since this (shamlat) pasture-land afforded a spectacular view, I often took an evening stroll too and sitting on a rock watched the preternatural bliss of a setting sun.

Quite often I wonder and worry why this dainty little bird, once quite ubiquitous, has become so elusive now? Has it become another victim to the fast expanding jungles of concrete? Has it suffered serious habitat loss? Has its population dwindled to alarmingly low levels? If so, we would have lost – or might do so in the near future - not just a bird that was not only a picture of loveliness but a great friend of the farmer as well. For, many of the crop pests that worry the farmer are Hoopoe’s favourite food.  

Well, if you love watching birds like I do - or even if you don’t - do look for this one on any open grassland or a pasture: it is so easily, unmistakably recognisable. Greet it and welcome it.  Appreciate the beauty of its plumage and its graceful movements especially the fanning out and then shrinking back of its fabulous crest (as so aptly described by Krishnan) and how it goes about pecking the ground with its artistically carved beak. You will be mesmerised. And, as you walk by, please don’t forget to say to it my Hello and tell: “Hi Hoopoe! Subhash, your old friend, loves you so, dearie; and misses you too. Do show up to him some  day.”

                                                     

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          Beware! I am a 'lover'

I am in essence a ‘lover’; and rather an impish and incorrigible one! Well, I think we  are all indeed born to love. It is another matter though that in the course of our life’s journey myriad influences - some sweet, some sour – that impinge upon us give a defining shape to our personality and mind-set. That in turn determines whether one ends up predominantly as a person of love and inclusiveness or the one full of prejudices, malice, violence, hatred and contempt.

As for me, of my many loves, love for the beautiful bounties of nature both big and small, probably comes foremost. And blessed and lucky are we to belong to this part of the globe where mother nature has been so kind and generous to give us its very best: the majestic Dhaualdhar, the hills, the valleys, the rivers, the khuds, deodars and pines, such a bewitching diversity of plants, birds and animals and above all the charming, hospitable, warm, friendly and beautiful men and women to fall in love with. What an ethereal delight it is to go out for a morning walk, inhale the limpid, pine-scented air, pass through the quiet loveliness of the sprawling green carpet of tea gardens and feast your eyes on the first kiss of a golden ray striking the snow-laden mountain crest! How divine it is to perch on a rock of a hill slope and look at the crimson orb of the western sun gently slide behind the silhouette of trees and hills and illuminating the stray wandering clouds by its red-hued incandescence for a fleeting few seconds. Those moments cast a magic spell difficult to put into words.

                                           

Books come second. And my love affair with them has been long and most rewarding, and without having had to suffer any heart breaks! The very sight, smell and feel of a good book transports me to an exclusive world of exquisite pleasure. A thought-provoking passage or a story, a witty barb, a sharp retort, a pleasing metaphor, a pithy, life-revealing philosophical observation, a catchy turn of phrase, some rich tapestry of imagination in a poem, elegant prose make book reading a source of rarest of life's delights. And my range is wide and varied: from autobiographies to fiction to travelogues to mythology to science…in short any stuff that is inspiring or stimulating that tingles and tickles my cerebral cells; I  can - by way of a dessert - also slurp something titillating even, if not vulgar. I have read some and want to read many more.

I love a bit of pen pushing too - both small prose and simple little poetic flourishes - despite my very limited writing abilities. It helps me unwind and give vent to pent up feelings, deeper emotions, and anger and rage on the personal, social and environmental issues that confront us, most of which I share with you all and urge you to be proactive about.

Company of good friends comes next. I don’t have very many. But dearly love the few I have. It is sheer joy to spend time with them and enjoy their empathy, warmth, good humour, jokes (vegan as well as non-vegan!), anecdotes, free-wheeling chat on current events, some light banter, some gupshup and so on. The pleasure becomes manifold, if there is a good drink to boot.

I have long cherished and longed for the company of women-friends but have been singularly unlucky. Perhaps my overwhelming, blushing shyness has been the main stumbling block. (I do however have an enduring and mutually fruitful long-distance ‘exchanges’ with some of my ex-students, a few of whom have been noble, kind and sporting enough to put up with my idiosyncrasies!) I think the company of a woman of ‘substance’ and good learning, cerebral, enlightened, uninhibited, and not suffering from male-mistrust-syndrome can catapult you to heavenly heights of ecstasy and inspiration. She can trigger the flow of creative juices in you and make you do wonders in life. Conversely, a mean, parochial, conceited, suspicious, deceitful, hypocritical one can despatch you to infernal depths of doom and gloom. (To be dead honest, supercilious  women [and men] masquerading as 'religious saints' frighten and scare me.)  In the insular, conservative milieu that we inhabit, the former kind is a rarity. Moreover, in the present times when crimes and brutal violence against women have become almost daily news, the prospect of finding a truly enlightened feminine soul and striking a friendly, mutually rewarding chord with her don’t seem too bright.  But if  you do bump into one, go all out to woo her though I would be quietly very jealous of you!

Lastly, as my profile says it too, I adore my tipple: some 'soulful sipfuls' to round off the day with when I can give free rein to my flights of fancy, fantasize about and weave my utopias and be in my fragile but sweet little 'love-world'. 

Well, there is a lot more to write on my ‘loves’ but some other time...perhaps over a drink!

            I am a godman

     

I am a godman, listen you one and all,

Bend and bow, lest from my graces, you fall.

Am a God’s true messenger, His blessings on you I shall shower,

Touch my feet and worship me well: both with money and flower.

No doubt I was born poor, indigent, weak and hungry,

But now I am a ‘Miracle Baba’ as known to all and sundry:

A spiritual guru in my own rights and of a world-renown,

With wealth, power and mass following in almost every town.

To my guru - now no more - I am ever so grateful, for helping me make the grade,

Who taught me some useful mantras and clever tricks of this wonderful trade.

People adore me, worship me and sing hymns in my glory and name,

Mantris, santries and big babus seek my blessings for health, wealth and fame.

For me it is a just a sleight of hand after long practice– a conjuror’s trick,

To roll out a gold ring or a watch tucked behind my sleeve- with just a wrist’s flick.

But for the gullible, Baba-crazy world, it is a miracle good and true,

Suits me fine as it draws men and women of every shade and hue.

To the sonless couples and swooning women I offer the gift of holy ash,

Costs me nothing (being a bonfire residue) but earns me bagfuls of rich cash.

My word is holy and my diktat final and binding for the foolishly faithful,

A mantra whispering god incarnate I am to the paying bhaktas ever so grateful.

But being after all human, when carnal lust does haul me over passion’s hot ambers,

Easily, as lord Krishna’s avatar, I handpick eager gopis to be lead to my inner chambers.

But (curse befall them!)  the media’s shameless  eye upon us of late, fills me with much dread,

In Kaliyuga, though God’s very own, still with caution this path of (sinful) bliss I need to tread.

Thus our credibility and (feigned) powers for miracles suffer due to media’s sharp tooth and claw,

Besides being exposed to the prospect of long term jail under the cruel instruments of law.

Shall, I wonder, in such tragic way my wealth, name and fame, glory all be gone?

Or will some gullible politician in power usher me back into the good old dawn?

The present election winds though do rekindle in me a flicker of heart-warming hope,

My sagging fortunes may turn with the enthronement of a good new Baba-bhakt Pope.

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