Book review: Not Just An Accountant - conscience keeper’s account

 

It can be safely said that most Indians will take CAG (Comptroller and Auditor General) synonymous with Vinod Rai. A question seeking former and current CAG names might meet with silence of ignorance. And this is only natural. For the man brought to the fore skeletons from the Indian cupboard of corruption like no other. And those skeletons that shocked a nation beyond belief, shook existing political systems and perhaps proved instrumental in humiliating fall of a regime. Not Just An Accountant (Rupa) is his testimony.

The life of a bureaucrat is interesting and Vinod Rai’s career begins in a tumultuous manner with delay in his cadre assignment. He narrates the tale wonderfully which hooks interest of the reader who gets a firsthand account of how government works. His long stint in Kerala, the various tribulations, the successes have been narrated in a simple and engaging manner.

But the crux of the book lies after that. The reader of this book certainly is looking for Vinod Rai’s version of the scams CAG unearthed, reported and stuck to their reports despite tremendous opposition from the powers that be. 2G, Commonwealth, Coal, Civil Aviation, Natural Gas, the scams that caught public imagination have been described at great length.

Vinod Rai has described these monumental corruption incidences beginning with basics, then going to the technical aspects followed by probing the reader. Though one might have read at great lengths about these scams, Mr Rai’s version is an education. He provides that essential CAG angle and makes it a point in every chapter to validate and laud the effort of this constitutional body which has been questioned. This questioning has been agonizing.

The various incidences that Vinod Rai mentions elicit various responses in the reader. Be it the audacity with which A Raja stuck to following a no auction policy, the creation of a body without any governmental control to seat Suresh Kalmadi, flouting norms to give Reliance more than 7 thousand square kilometers of area for excavation, buying aircrafts and selling them for a 5 times lesser rate, will shock the reader learning about these in detail for the first time.

During the release of the book the mention of role of former Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s in these scams was a talking point. Vinod Rai has made his observations of the PM’s role very clear. In the 2G scam, he writes how on two occasions, in response to A Raja’s letter, the PM replied with the text “I have received your letter of (date) regarding recent developments in the telecom sector”. A similar stoic silence in the Coal block allotment scam is mentioned. Overall the impression is sent of a PM who has acted like Dhritarashtra of Mahabharat.

The book is interesting for one interested in policy issues. A bureaucrat with 40 years of experience explains concepts of Principal-Agent problem, policy of past, shift in policy and obfuscation of policy. The book is an essential read for those who wish to get a comprehensive view of role of CAG, the technical aspects of scams from 2G scam to Reliance’s role in KG basin excavation, and aspects of an honest bureaucrat’s life.

Unanswered Questions - Translation of 'Anuttara' by Subhashree Mishra

Translating one of my mothers poem in Odia titled 'Anuttara'. My humble attempt...

Unanswered Questions

Are the bridges of relations so tattered?

Threads of bonding so frayed?
Great strength in the walls of suspicion!

Weak the foundation of faith that’s laid?

 Is old-age a cottage dilapidated?

Is widowhood pale world stagnated?

Is duty a mad pursuit of possession?

Act of profitable business, true submission?

 Un-manliness, does ahimsa imply?

Being defeatist does peace imply?

Of these questions of a worm infested world

Who shall provide the answers...

Or shall these overwhelming questions in eons stay unanswered.

 Sambit Dash (original by Subhashree Mishra)

 

 

ORIGINAL in ODIA

 

ଅନୁତ୍ତର

ସମ୍ପର୍କ ର ସେତୁ କଣ ଏତେ ଦଦରା ?

ବନ୍ଧନ ର ରଜ୍ଜୁ କଣ ଏତେ ହୁଗୁଳା ?

ସନ୍ଦେହ ର ପାଚେରୀ ରେ ଏତେ ଦୃଢତା !

ବିସ୍ବାସ ମୂଳଦ୍ବାରେ ଏତେ ଦୁର୍ବଳତା

 

ବାର୍ଧକ୍ୟ କଣ ଏକ ଜରାଜୀର୍ଣ କୁଡିଆ ?

ବୈଧବ୍ୟ ମାନେ କଣ ବିବର୍ଣ ଦୁନିଆ ?

କର୍ତବ୍ୟ ର ମାନେ କଣ ପ୍ରାପ୍ତି ର ନିଶା ?

ସମର୍ପଣ ମାନେ କଣ ଲାଭାଦାୟୀ ବେଉସା ?

 

ଅହିଂସା ର ମାନେ କଣ କାପୁରୁଷ-ପଣ ?

ଶାନ୍ତି ର ମାନେ କଣ ପରାଜୟ ବରଣ ?

ଘୁଣଧରା ସମାଜ ର ଏତେ ସବୁ ପ୍ରଶ୍ନ ର

କିଏ ବା ଦେବ ଜବାବ୍ …

ଅବା କାଳ ବକ୍ଷେ ଅନୁତ୍ତର ରହି ଯିବ ଉଦ୍ବେଳିତ ପ୍ରଶ୍ନମାନ !

                                                                    ଶୁଭଶ୍ରୀ ମିଶ୍ର

 

 

Under Delhi - defining dark humor in India

If you think of a story about crime against women, particularly rape, and you think of comedy, they will not fit in a single frame. May even be unthinkable. But that story falling under the genre of dark humor, of melancholic humor is dished out effectively by Sorabh Pant, one of India’s leading stand-up comedian, in Under Delhi.

Tanya Bisht, a vigilante by night and stuck-in-shitty-job by day girl in Delhi (yes, Delhi of course) drives a car called anti-balatcar and metes justice to those rape accused who are let of by weak arms of law. The car runs under a false ‘Crushed Grapes’ company whose tag line is With Grape Power Comes Grape Responsibility! (yes, seriously). She beats those men black and blue and collects the pinky as a souvenier.

That she has been orphaned in childhood, raped by office boss, makes her soul demented. But she has a tongue for slapstick, morose humor. She has an office filled with chauvinists and PPT presentations and sells homes that would probably never get constructed.

Her estranged mother, Sakshi Bisht, resurfaces as her guardian angel, one who had been also providing her list of the freely-roaming-accused. Along with her mother, two policemen Mr Sharma and Ali who actively support the vigilante cause. Mr Sharma who is her mother’s boyfriend turns out to be the one who has been a father in the absence of real one for Tanya.

Then there are a Ramesh-Suresh (Gill) duo. Ramesh Gill is the suave villain in the plot who having wronged her daughter, now has turned a feminist and wants Tanya to kill the wrongdoers. However Tanya and her team are on the ‘right side’ of the law and would not kill any person. A game ensues and reaches a climax full of bullets and emotions.

First things first. Sorabh Pants writing is hilarious (that already has been said by Abhishek Bachchan though). There is no way if one is reading the book won’t burst into laughter on occasions, or if one isn’t the overtly expressing types, have sniffing type laughter.

The IIPoM (International Institute of Ponytail Management), Anirban Sir, the caricature of the Bengali character Robindro, description of a Gurgaon farmhouse, is really funny. Mr Pant’s jokes draw on politics of the time with references to Soniaji and MMS; they draw on perceptions of places like Haryana and Gurgaon and Delhi; they draw on fallacies of the society with respect to a woman; they draw on Hollywood movies; and they draw on a myriad of things which keeps the readers interest in the humor intact.

The book works not because of the humor alone but because he has maintained the suspense in the plot which almost makes it unputdownable. At 256 pages it is a light and absorbing read. The book also works because it hits you at the right places. In the manic and adult comedy Mr Pant drives home issues that our women, half of our society faces. The over-the-top, in your face, dirty truth he brandishes could unsettle one sometimes.

It is laudable that Sorabh Pant has brought out a book on that genre of dark humor which is hardly given due importance in our popular culture, and in his inimitable manic style has done justice to it.

Haider - Restraint and Poetry

 

Haider is not for you if you if you are looking for a thriller, it is not for you if you are looking for a political potboiler, it is not for you if you are looking for action with Kalashnikovs, it is not for you if you are looking for a logical and just plot, it is not for you if you are looking for black and white. Performances in Haider will not impress you if you believe, given the plot, histrionics and loud outbursts take an act to great heights, they will not impress you if you, again, are looking for the black and the white.

Haider is about restraint. That and poetry. Restraint is in Shahid Kapoor holding back tears. Restraint is in Shraddha Kapoor not going over the top in her love or concern. Restraint is in Kay Kay Menon not screaming away in acts of negativity. Restraint then is epitomized in the whole act of Tabu. Remember it might be easy to scream and punch, to shoot and scoot, to revel in grandiosity; but it might not be to restrain.

The poetry of the movie is in the brooding background score, the shots of snow clad Kashmir, the monologues, the dialogues, the acting and the offbeat scenes. Arguably Shahid Kapoors best performances till date is a heady mix of various emotions. The transformation from a PhD scholar to a crushing-skull-with-stone killer and through emotional roller coaster is noteworthy. The monologue at Lal Chowk and Bismil choreography stands out. The lesser said about Menon and Tabu the better. Finest performances in a long time. Unlike majority of Bollywood movies, the actors stick to the accent throughout which is appreciable.

The first half paints the strife torn state and the plight of its people in a way that would sadden every Indian. One will sit up and think what it would be like to have endless curfews and parade with Indian passport for identity. Adhering to Shakespearean comic reliefs, there are few acts that makes the theater laugh. And in such mirth is intertwined deep hurtful concepts. Case in point the rhyming of Chutzpah and AFSPA.

This is one movie which is not for the traditional entertainment seeking audience. It is not the shot of alcohol that will give you an instant high, it is like fine scotch whose effect will grow on you. A movie that a movie lover can watch much more than once.

Vishal Bhardwaj, in his trilogy, paints Hamlet in such a manner that the nuances of the plot in the end loses itself, only the performances remain. And that is all that one can ever wish for; for then a mere act becomes eternal.

Fading Memories

The memories which descended unhindered earlier

Triggered by the sight of a clear blue sky

Or the fragrance of the cadamba flower

Are now struggling to come easily by

Laborious becoming each new try.

 

The bright and sunny mornings of these months

Accompanied with the cool eastern breeze

That carries the remnants of the rain

Also a hint of winter as its steps gain.

 

The childhood memories of the Puja etched

Hard in mind, heart and reinforced over years

Of the times when frolic took precedence

When harm hadn’t been done to people known

That’s a legacy I shall with pride forever own.

 

Humongous time has flown in the vast swathes

Nearing a decade and half of everything added

Having been removed from the natural habitat

Added layers to life like an oil-on-canvas art.

 

But now the days on the skin feels warmer

The infidel breeze is inconsistent

The winter almost lost like an estranged friend

Autumn fragrance probably reached its end.

 

Not to be seen those eyes of goddess

The aroma of heavy incense not emanating

Nowhere bamboos tied to make ‘gates’

The colorful clothes on it not draped

Strings of lights all around no more laced.

 

The numerous balloons we bought

The chaat, the chowmein, the ice cream

The many pistols with rolls of bullets

Bought with generous funding of family

Now the money can buy few things

But clipped are all the childhood wings.

 

The mirth in a house full of people missing

No laze of the morning, late night gossips

The platters, the sweet now non existent

Sneaking away many times to the festivity

Now confined to unforced captivity.

 

The memory I feel is slowly fading away

The strength of aroma in mind diluted

The mirth drowned in puddle of worries

The visuals either blurred or absent

Though these haven’t reached cent percent.

 

All of it, the bundle of emotions now remain

As schema, the packets, in long term memory

Which shall get triggered now and then

When such a time of the year comes

But revisiting is impractical, impossible

For reliving past moments is not plausible.