Reminiscing the Emergency as a 19-year-old me!

Raju Korti
On the night of June 25, 1975, India, the world’s largest democracy, was brought to its knees. Not by foreign invasion, not by civil war, but by the hand of its own elected government. Civil liberties were suspended, the press gagged, opposition leaders jailed, and the Constitution was thrown into cold storage. That was the night the Emergency was declared. That was also the night I, a promising 19-year-old engineering student, had my political awakening.

I had no inkling then that I would someday trade equations and circuits for headlines and deadlines. But that night changed something in me.

Looking back, I realise India has weathered many storms -- Partition and its festering wounds, four wars with its petulant (and at times illegitimate) child Pakistan, crooked politicians, opportunistic alliances, and man-made disasters masquerading as policy decisions. But nothing has darkened our democratic canvas like the Emergency. Those 21 months between 1975 and 1977 were not just an aberration -- they were an aberration with a chilling echo.

(Pic from Prasar Bharati archives)

Indira Gandhi, a Prime Minister who evoked either undying loyalty or simmering hatred (much like Modi does today), couldn’t digest the thought of political defeat. After the Allahabad High Court invalidated her election on charges of electoral malpractice -- thanks to the irrepressible political jester Raj Narain -- her grip on power began to loosen. And Indira didn’t like loose ends.

So, under the pretext of “internal disturbances,” and with the ever-obliging President Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed reportedly signing the proclamation mid-bath (yes, literally), the Emergency was born. It wasn't so much a legal act as a desperate power play -- an authoritarian override dressed up as constitutional necessity.

At 19, I may not have had a PhD in political science, but I knew enough to smell something rotten. What I couldn't fully grasp was the depth of fear, repression, and sheer absurdity that would follow. I didn't need to read National Herald, the family’s PR bulletin disguised as a newspaper, to understand where the country was headed. I could feel it -- in the silences of those around me, in the paranoia, in the tension that wrapped every conversation in hushed whispers.

India was no longer a republic; it was a Police Raj. People, even school children, were locked up without cause. Saying anything remotely critical -- sometimes even nothing at all -- was enough to land you in jail. The fear was such that we started suspecting our own shadows. I remember stepping out only when absolutely necessary, half-expecting to be dragged off for a forced vasectomy. That wasn’t just a rumour. It was Sanjay Gandhi’s pet project: population control at scalpel-point. People -- young and old, men and boys -- were picked off the streets and sterilised. Voluntary consent was a joke. Masculinity, quite literally, was on the chopping block.

Indira’s idea of democracy had started to resemble a dictatorship -- but with a parliamentary garnish. Her pet excuse? The nation was under threat. From whom, exactly? China? Pakistan? No. The threat was internal. The threat was dissent. The threat was democracy itself.

The irony? The Emergency was meant to stifle opposition. Instead, it galvanised it. I remember listening in awe as voices across the political spectrum -- Jayaprakash Narayan, Morarji Desai, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, L.K. Advani, Madhu Dandavate, George Fernandes, Karpoori Thakur, Charan Singh, and many others -- set aside their differences to challenge Indira’s autocracy. The Janata Party was born out of that synthesis. It was my first real education in political pluralism -- and political farce.

When elections were finally held in 1977, India spoke. Indira and her Congress were wiped out. The opposition swept to power, buoyed by public fury and a hope for change. I was at rallies, listening to both Morarji and Sanjay, Charan Singh and Indira, as the political theatre unfolded. The mood was electric. For the first time, I saw an RSS march out in the open --silent but telling.

But power, like history, tends to repeat its follies. The Janata Party imploded under the weight of its own ego battles, leaving the people disillusioned yet again. Indira returned in 1980, triumphant and unrepentant. A two-thirds majority, no less. That’s when I truly understood: politics is not about ideology; it’s about expediency, selective amnesia, and public helplessness.

Today, when I rewind that era in my head, I wonder: what has really changed? We still have politicians blaming each other for the same sins they commit. Governance remains a tragic joke. We still elect leaders not for what they promise, but for who they oppose. Democracy in India has never truly matured -- it has merely mutated.

If there is one thing the Emergency taught me, it is this: in a democracy, the people don’t need to be powerful. They need to be vigilant. But vigilance requires awareness, and awareness demands courage. Sadly, both are in short supply.

And so, every June 25, I look back not with nostalgia, but with a strange mix of anger, disbelief, and grim amusement. It was the day the lights went out on democracy -- and the day a naive student like me began to see the country with unblinking eyes.

Never again, we say. And yet, I am not so sure.

The climate clock Is ticking louder but we aren’t listening!

Raju Korti
Let me say this upfront: the 1.5°C warming target -- that golden line we were told not to cross -- may be breached in just three years. Not 30. Not even 10. Three. That is not fear-mongering. That is cold, scientific calculation from a group of over 60 top climate scientists, based on hard data, not hype. If that doesn’t jolt you, perhaps this will: we have already used up 90% of our carbon budget, and at our current rate of carbon emissions -- over 42 billion metric tons per year -- we’ll use up the rest by early 2028. That is precisely the point where science says we are essentially locked in to a 1.5°C warmer world. Beyond that, things get ugly.

There is a reason why this 1.5°C number matter. Because it is not just a number. It is the threshold between disruption and disaster. That is the temperature rise since pre-industrial times that scientists believe could push us over into widespread, irreversible climate chaos -- stronger storms, severe droughts, deadly heatwaves, rising seas, and massive losses in agriculture. We are already at 1.24°C, and warming at a rate of 0.27°C per decade. That’s like watching floodwaters rise inch by inch and still thinking you have time to pack your bags and run.

Earth: From the frying pan into the fire!

Here is my physics and maths behind the panic: Earth is now trapping 25% more heat than it did just a decade ago. Picture a thickening thermal blanket wrapping around the planet -- mostly caused by the burning of coal, oil, and gas -- and you will get the idea. About 90% of this heat is getting stored in the oceans, quietly melting glaciers, raising sea levels (already up 228 mm since 1900) and bleaching coral reefs. It may not look catastrophic yet, but ask anyone living in coastal cities or drought-hit farms and they will tell you: the climate isn't waiting politely for 2100. It is already ringing the doorbell.

What is particularly frightening is how fast the window is closing. Just last year, scientists gave us a bit more time. Now, they’ve updated the math, and it is worse. We are not just off track; we are accelerating in the wrong direction.

It is not just my case that the implications are profound, because once that 1.5°C threshold is crossed, we are not just talking about warmer summers – we are looking at up to 40% crop yield losses in key global breadbaskets like the US, China, and Russia, amplified drought and water stress which already affected 30% of the world’s land in 2022, sea-level rise that could engulf small island nations and low-lying coastal cities. Worst of all, the triggering of climate tipping points like the collapse of ice sheets or the dieback of the Amazon rainforest that can set off self-reinforcing feedback loops -- the climate equivalent of a planetary fever spiraling into a coma.

There is, of course, hope but it comes with a deadline. Scientists say emissions must peak this decade -- meaning, within the next 5 years -- and then fall sharply. That means ramping up wind, solar, and other renewables, cutting fossil fuel subsidies, electrifying everything from cars to stoves, and, perhaps hardest of all, changing the way we consume and think about growth.

And that is the catch: physics doesn’t negotiate. Politics can stall, markets can wobble, but the laws of thermodynamics won’t bend it like Beckham. If we keep burning, the planet keeps heating. Period.

This isn’t about saving the Earth. Earth will spin on for millennia. It’s about saving us -- our cities, food, economies, and future generations from the climate we've already begun to unravel.

The Paris Agreement wasn’t just a diplomatic nicety. It was a lifeline. Now that line is fraying and if we wait till 2028 to act decisively, it might just snap.

The countdown isn’t abstract. It’s physical. It’s measurable. And it is now.

Tech snags have been happening; we are just noticing them now!

Raju Korti
After the tragic crash of the Ahmedabad–London Air India flight, what has followed is a string of incidents that has suddenly thrown the spotlight on the safety of Indian aviation, and while some of the panic is understandable, I can’t help but ask. Have these snags and scares really become more frequent, or is it just that we are now noticing them more because social media amplifies every turbulence in the sky?

It is hard to ignore how, within just a week of the crash, several aircraft across carriers have either grounded, returned mid-air, suffered bird hits, or made emergency landings. Air India’s San Francisco–Mumbai flight had to land in Kolkata due to an engine snag, another Delhi–Pune Air India flight returned after a bird strike, an IndiGo plane headed to Madurai was forced to turn back, and cancellations have piled up with Air India grounding at least 66 Dreamliner flights amid scrutiny over safety protocols. And there are many.

But all of this isn’t necessarily new. For decades, technical issues, bird hits, minor component failures have been part of flying life, only they were dealt with quietly, efficiently, and usually without any public drama, especially in a pre-Twitter era when pilots didn’t have to worry about passengers live-streaming their fear or media portals dissecting every maintenance log in real time.

(Pic representational)

In fact, I remember a time back in 2009 -- long before Indian Airlines was merged into Air India. I boarded a flight from Mumbai to Nagpur, and within 20 minutes of take-off, the pilot’s calm voice came through the cabin speakers: “There seems to be a problem with the pressurization, we’re turning back to Mumbai.” I still recall the look of anxiety spreading quietly across faces, some white-knuckled grips on armrests, some murmurs of nervous laughter, but the pilot reassured us with a “there’s nothing to worry about,” and we returned to Mumbai without incident, only to board a replacement aircraft shortly after. Nobody tweeted, nobody panicked publicly, nobody demanded an inquiry. It was one of those things you accepted as part of the flying experience.

Contrast that with today, where every alert message, every maintenance delay, every aborted take-off becomes a trending topic, dissected by aviation experts, influencers, and doomsday soothsayers alike. It is not that aviation has suddenly become less safe; it has just become more visible, more discussed, and more scrutinized than ever before.

What is interesting -- and concerning -- is the emerging economic fallout, with many fliers now second-guessing their travel plans, especially when booking with Air India, where Dreamliner reliability has come under fire, and understandably so. After all, when a crash shakes public confidence, every subsequent technical snag starts to look ominous, even if it is unrelated.

Flight bookings have reportedly dipped, passenger sentiment is jittery, and while aviation experts keep reminding us that air travel remains statistically far safer than road or rail travel, public emotion doesn’t always move in sync with data. It is also worth noting that India, despite a growing aviation market and ambitious fleet expansions, still struggles with the basics of safety compliance, engineering vigilance, and wildlife control near airports --factors that don’t necessarily cause disasters but do erode public trust if not addressed transparently.

To that end, I believe the only way airlines and regulators can restore confidence is through proactive transparency and visible action -- publish incident data routinely, provide context, invest in wildlife hazard mitigation, communicate swiftly when things go wrong, and above all, empower pilots and maintenance staff to speak up without fear.

The DGCA must enforce third-party audits more rigorously, and airlines must ensure that safety doesn’t take a backseat to scheduling pressures or operational cost-cutting. Flyers are not unreasonable. They do understand things can go wrong but what they demand now is reassurance that when things do go wrong, the system responds swiftly and truthfully. In a sense, this moment could be an opportunity for Indian aviation to rebuild trust not by pretending everything is perfect, but by showing that it is willing to acknowledge flaws, fix them, and keep the flying public informed every step of the way.

So yes, these incidents have been happening for years. Only now, they fly with us into our timelines, our chatrooms, our collective anxiety. The sky hasn’t suddenly become more dangerous. It has just become more transparent, more accountable, and more emotionally fraught. Whether that is a blessing or a burden depends entirely on how we choose to respond -- calmly, critically, and above all, constructively.

Dalals of Peace! When arsonists offer fire safety tips!

Raju Korti
I had a reason to chuckle when I read that Russian President Vladimir Putin has “graciously” offered to mediate peace between Israel and Iran. It is like the bull offering to supervise a china shop’s grand reopening. Of course, the Kremlin spin is all about diplomacy and de-escalation. But we all know that behind that measured tone lies the hallmark vodka of international hypocrisy -- distilled in barrels of geopolitical self-interest.

Peace brokering, once the domain of dispassionate saints and neutrals, is now an elite club of self-styled saviours with blood on their hands and contracts in their back pockets. Putin’s offer may sound noble, but this is the same Russia that has been carpet-bombing parts of Ukraine while shaking hands with Hamas and Iran, and simultaneously trying to rebrand itself as a peacemaker. That is like offering CPR lessons while holding someone underwater.

He isn’t alone in this pantheon of paradox. The United States, for instance, has long enjoyed its role as a serial peace broker -- offering olive branches in one hand while supplying F-16s and smart bombs with the other. Remember Trump’s “Deal of the Century”? It read less like a peace plan and more like a real estate brochure with armed footnotes. Yet, there he was, flanked by Benjamin Netanyahu and a few Gulf emissaries, like a wedding priest who didn’t bother checking if the bride and groom had ever met.

China, too, has now thrown its hat in the peace ring -- literally and figuratively -- with its recent forays into mediating between Iran and Saudi Arabia. A noble cause, perhaps, but coming from a nation that doesn’t blink while bulldozing dissent in Hong Kong or building artificial islands with military intent, it all seems part of a new "image rehab world tour.” This is Peace Manchurian!

Even North Korea -- yes, the Hermit Kingdom – has offered mediation at times, usually sandwiched between missile tests and threats of “sea of fire” rhetoric. If ever proof was needed that international relations are surreal, there you have it.

Let’s not forget Turkey, which under Erdoğan’s rule, tries to swing between NATO, Russia, and various Islamic blocs depending on which way the wind (and economic aid) is blowing. It once positioned itself as a peace conduit during the early Syria war days while offering passage to every shade of rebel from moderate to medieval.

And of course, there’s Pakistan. A nation with a long record of nurturing non-state actors offering to “facilitate” peace in Afghanistan, Kashmir, or any place where a microphone is available. It is the geopolitical equivalent of a fox applying for poultry farm security.

The irony of all this is not just in the hypocrisy. It is in the fact that these peace brokers rarely succeed. Their mediation is less about lasting solutions and more about leverage. Offering to broker peace gives them a seat at the table, headlines in the media, and sometimes a temporary halo over a soiled track record. It is often about optics, not outcomes.

And yet, the world plays along. Because peace, however thinly veiled or insincerely offered, is a desirable narrative. It keeps markets from panicking, voters from rioting, and international summits from becoming food fights.

So, is peace brokering a holier-than-thou pastime? Maybe. But it is also a deeply cynical charade that’s become international theatre. The script is familiar: start a fire, fan it a bit, and then arrive with buckets (or sponsors). Rinse, repeat, Nobel Peace nomination.

Everyone wants to be the fireman – but not without first striking the match.

Mending fences, fraying nerves: The India-Canada reset!

Raju Korti
It is almost surreal to see India and Canada restoring diplomatic ties after months of glacial hostility. The timing, on the sidelines of PM Narendra Modi’s G7 outreach, couldn’t be more telling. But even as high-level decorum resumes, I remain sceptical: has anything really changed, or are we simply glossing over deeper fractures that stem from Canada’s own political indulgences?

As someone who has tracked the Khalistan conundrum for years –in fact ever since it started -- it is impossible to ignore how Justin Trudeau’s government used the movement’s fringe but vocal elements as a vote-bank play. With a sizeable Sikh diaspora -- particularly in electoral battlegrounds like British Columbia and Ontario -- Trudeau didn’t just tolerate the Khalistan narrative; he coddled it. Public processions glorifying separatists, Gurdwaras becoming hubs of anti-India rhetoric, and open defiance of Indian sovereignty were allowed under the guise of “free speech.” Diplomatically, it was a slow-burning provocation. Politically, it was expedient.

But it would be patently wrong to attribute this phenomenon to Trudeau’s time. Canada has for decades provided safe harbour to pro-Khalistan elements. The Air India bombing in 1985 -- the worst act of aviation terrorism before 9/11 -- was plotted on Canadian soil. Despite overwhelming evidence, the justice process dragged on, with suspects slipping through legal loopholes. India’s repeated calls for extradition were met with stonewalling, often couched in concerns about "political persecution." Ottawa’s passive tolerance turned into what many in New Delhi saw as willful blindness.

The situation spiralled during Trudeau’s second term. The killing of Hardeep Singh Nijjar, a Canadian citizen and Khalistani activist, created an unprecedented diplomatic storm. Trudeau’s open accusation of Indian involvement -- without publicly presented evidence -- upended all channels of trust. India retaliated in kind. Diplomatic expulsions followed. Trade negotiations froze. Air bubbles deflated. A bilateral cold war was underway.

Now comes the unexpected détente. Canada’s CSIS, in a new threat report, has officially acknowledged that Khalistani extremists “continue to use Canada as a base for promotion, fundraising, or planning violence in India.” For New Delhi, this is no revelation. It is a long-standing policy concern. But for Ottawa to articulate it in black and white suggests a shift, however reluctant, towards India’s position. It is also likely an acknowledgment that global geopolitics, where India’s strategic heft is rising, can no longer be ignored for parochial politics.

Yet I don’t see this as a transformative reset. The deeper issue remains Canada’s domestic compulsions. Trudeau still needs support from Sikh constituencies. While the CSIS report marks bureaucratic realism, it is unclear whether political will follows. Will Canada crack down on the very networks it once tiptoed around? Will its legal system cooperate on extraditions? Will there be consequences for inciting violence against Indian diplomats?

India, on its part, cannot afford to let its guard down. The Khalistan movement devastated Punjab for over a decade -- costing thousands of lives, destabilizing India’s most prosperous state, and culminating in the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. It is no dormant relic -- it has simply gone global. The diaspora-fuelled propaganda, often unchallenged in the West, poses a strategic and ideological threat to India’s unity.

The Modi government will likely tread pragmatically. Trade will resume, dialogues will continue, but trust will be rationed. Canada may have taken a step toward clarity, but unless it walks the talk, relations will remain strained, camouflaged under diplomatic smiles.

As a journalist, I have seen far too many resets turn into reruns. For this chapter to be different, Canada must do more than acknowledge extremism. It must act decisively against it. Only then can the bilateral ties grow beyond optics and reach substance.

Modi’s shells for Trump’s blanks!

Raju Korti
I cannot recall the last time a sitting US President -- the so-called leader of the free world – was called out so directly and so diplomatically by another head of state. Except perhaps when Indira obliquely countered President Richard Nixon during the 1971 Bangladesh war. But what Narendra Modi has done in the aftermath of Trump’s bizarre claim about stopping a nuclear war between India and Pakistan is nothing short of a quiet yet thunderous repudiation.

Let’s be clear: Modi didn’t just reject Trump’s assertions. He dismantled them point by point, each denial echoing louder than any public rebuke. And he did it without theatrics, instead weaponising protocol, precision, and political consensus. The 35-minute phone call, the immediate statement from Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri, and the polite but unmistakable snub to Trump’s invite -- this was India drawing a Lakshman Rekha around its sovereignty.

Trump’s decision to host Pakistan’s Army Chief, Field Marshal Asim Munir -- a man who runs Islamabad’s playbook more than the elected Prime Minister ever will -- reeks of vintage American expediency. The US has long preferred Pakistan’s men in uniform because they offer transactional clarity: deliverables without democratic messiness. But what’s galling here is the Nobel Peace Prize subtext. Trump clearly fancies himself as a peacemaker in a region he neither understands nor respects, and Munir was playing to that ego.

Modi saw through it all. The bait was to have Modi and Munir share a handshake, share optics, maybe even give Trump the photo op that secures his 'peacemaker' legacy ahead of the 2024 campaign. But Modi’s refusal was less about schedules and more about signalling -- that India refuses to be equated with a terror-touting rogue state in a false narrative of balance. Trump’s attempt to reduce a complex, asymmetrical conflict into a campaign soundbite was met with India’s doctrinal wall: No mediation, no equivalence, no interference.

This could well be the first time the White House has been so publicly contradicted -- not by hostile nations, but by a strategic partner. And that’s the real headline. The world's largest democracy has effectively called the bluff of the most powerful man in the world. Trump, in his trademark bluster, thought he could box India into a corner of gratitude and diplomatic obligation. Modi didn’t just sidestep that corner. He drew a red line around it.

The fallout? Expect Trump to escalate rhetorical brinkmanship, especially as election season tightens. The so-called trade deal may remain a mirage. Meanwhile, India has made it clear it will not be a pawn in any American Nobel-peddling mission, especially not one that sees radical Islamist terror as just another talking point.

To cut this long story short, Trump fired blanks. Modi answered with shells. And the world has taken note.

For Iran, it will be same turban with new threads!

Raju Korti
In the smouldering theatre of Middle East brinkmanship, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei has long been both director and symbol -- the black-turbaned architect of Iran’s defiant stance. Now, at 86 and reportedly in cognitive decline after a string of IRGC losses to Israeli strikes, he may be receding into the shadows of Iran’s secure bunkers. But the real question isn’t whether he’s losing his grip. It is whether his absence will change anything of substance in Iran’s power matrix.

Early signs suggest: not really.

Iran is not a country run by one man. It is a regime powered by institutional rigidity, religious indoctrination, and a tightly-woven clerical-military nexus -- a sort of revolutionary conveyor belt where one black-turbaned operator can be seamlessly replaced by another. Whether it is Mojtaba Khamenei, the son and soft-spoken shadow influencer with IRGC ties, or Alireza Arafi, the credentials-heavy cleric with multiple footings in Iran’s theological and constitutional apparatus, the next leader is less a pivot than a mutation -- genetically similar to the last, with perhaps just a different tone of voice at Friday prayers.

Mojtaba, in particular, is more than just a dynastic extension. He is said to have quietly consolidated power over the past decade, embedding himself within the IRGC's nerve centres and clerical courts alike. He doesn’t speak much, but he listens -- and pulls strings. His ascension would reflect continuity, not change. Alireza Arafi, meanwhile, represents the traditional clerical establishment and its firm grip on legal-theological legitimacy. His rise would placate the old guard while maintaining strategic alignment with the Revolutionary Guard.

Ayatollah Khamenei

Khamenei’s reported psychological collapse following the killing of his top IRGC aides isn’t unprecedented -- dictators often wither when their human shields are taken out. According to opposition outlets, he now resides in an underground shelter with his family, eerily echoing Saddam's last days. But unlike Saddam, Iran’s structure doesn't hinge on charisma or coercion alone -- it's an ideological machine with a self-replenishing priesthood.

Former President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, that ever-controversial populist with a messianic streak and a flair for the unpredictable, may eye this uncertainty as his second act. But he’s long been sidelined by both the clerical elite and the IRGC brass for his unpredictability and populist theatrics. Unless Iran faces full-scale upheaval -- not impossible, given the confluence of external war and internal discontent -- Ahmadinejad remains a footnote with an expired political passport.

Meanwhile, with Khamenei reportedly excluded from critical strategic meetings, power has naturally gravitated to where it always truly lay -- with the IRGC and the Supreme National Security Council. They are managing not only Iran’s war-footing against Israel but also suppressing internal unrest. As always, the supreme ideology trumps the supreme leader.

Ultimately, even if Khamenei is replaced -- or erased -- what unfolds is less of a transition and more of a handoff in a relay race where every runner wears the same uniform. Iran's strategic calculus, anchored in resistance ideology and regional assertion, is unlikely to shift just because the figurehead does.

In short, the turban may change heads but the headgear remains the same.