postcard from the trenches

Yet another semi final lost. Just like that, it’s now eight years since that magical six by Dhoni. Boys played well, changed jerseys as well.

Yet another state gone. The Congress loses 2/3 of its legislators in Goa; hangs on by the skin of its teeth in Karnataka, DKS holds on. We are heading to a situation where the ruling party will simply say “No more elections, anyway people are voting for us or those in opposition are joining us; why bother?.” I can see the absolute glee with which some people will greet this masterstroke.

Yet another monsoon half done. The usual crater filled roads, train schedules going awry, spirit of Mumbai being invoked; new excuse on the block, “Crabs”.

Yet another industry in trouble, auto industry in turmoil. The sensex giving the budget a big thumbs down, government statistics/numbers all over the place, nothing adding up.

Yet another dream floated; 5 trillion its main theme. A whole bunch of money has vanished into thin air, a few people questioning, the usual captains of industry giving the effort 11/10. The call for sacrifices comes on cue.

Yet another car shed proposed, many thousand trees to be cut. The bullet train and the smart cities have just remained on paper. The inaugurations continue, whether or not the projects have been completely done.

Yet another lynching; the hate speeches continue. People keep finding honour an excuse to kill and maim. The hate creeps slowly into our society, fuelled by a steroid called whatsapp.

Yet another raid, this time on lawyers who have fought all their lives to uphold the law. The coffers of the RBI are now raided with impunity, the institution hollowed out, manned by people most “flexible”.

Yet, the folks dancing around the fire, do not seem to mind the flames going higher. They say we are not hurt yet. The fire will singe them eventually, it always does.

In all this gloom, we have to remember Mr. Leonard Cohen’s “Anthem”,
ring the bells that still can ring
forget your perfect offering
there is a crack, a crack in everything
that’s how the light gets in

and keep buggering on.

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I write to remember. I write to remain honest. I write to leave a bread crumb trail for my daughter. I write to relax. Trying to impress my better half, I write

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Maruti Naik

Maruti Naik

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I write to remember. I write to remain honest. I write to leave a bread crumb trail for my daughter. I write to relax. Trying to impress my better half, I write