Of banana tales and insured balls! Going bonkers for a price!

Raju Korti
People spend money on the most unimaginable things -- things that lesser mortals like me wouldn't be uncapable of even thinking of. Forget dreaming about them; I'd have to Google what half of them are! Sure, we have all heard of luxury real estate, high-end vacations and a car collection that could double as a Formula 1 line up. But nothing prepares you for the absurdities that redefine human creativity  when paired with bottomless wallets.

Let's start with water. For you and me (if you are one of me), its either straight from the tap (boiled for safety because we are sensible) or a bottle we grumble about at Rs 20. Enter Virat Kohli, a man so fit he probably does pushups to pass time between overs. Kohli's water? A pristine French spring sends him "Evian", costing a cool Rs 4000 a litre. You heard it right! His hydration probably costs more than your monthly grocery bill. I wonder if his sweat could sell as a boutique syrup.

And then there is Justin Sun, a cryptocurrency entrepreneur who bought conceptual art titled "Comedian". What's this masterpiece, you may ask? A banana duct-taped to a wall. Cost: A mere (!) $9.5 million. Taste? "Much better than regular bananas", he said, as he peeled and ate it in the vacationsque Hong Kong. It wasn't a snack -- it was performance art, you stupid! For the patently uninitiated life of me, who has eaten bananas as an after-meal fruit, it is now a nature's designer I fight shy of buying. Never mind, if it costs just Rs 50 a dozen. If money makes the mare go, it does the same to asses as well.

Speaking of "investment", I read media mogul Nick Cannon decided to insure his family jewels. A cool $10 million, just in case. According to him, "it's my most valuable asset". Makes you wonder if his insurance agent had to sit through that pitch without choking on his coffee. Meanwhile, rapper Lil Uzi Vert opted for a pink diamond worth $30 million embedded in his forehead. The crowd at his show reportedly tried to rip it out of his head. The diamond's fate? It now rests in peace -- and obscurity -- much like common sense. Little wonder, Nick's Cannon is much the loser, like a modern-day Ashwatthama.

Even historical figures make the meritorious cut. Take Imelda Marcos, former First Lady of the Philippines, who had so may shoes that Cinderella's fairy godmother would have quit. I mean, even if she wore a different pair every day, she would need several lifetimes to strut them all. I recall as a night sub on duty, this among the main story of how she and and her husband held the Guinness World Record for the "greatest robbery of a government", putting Suharto of neighbourhood Indonesia at a poor second. I wonder what happened to all those footwear and on whose feet they chose to finally erode.

The instances are legion. Film-maker Anurag Kashyap recently spilled Bollywood's budgetary tea. A chef charging Rs 2 lakh a day to cater to an actor's whims? Another star shooting off a driver three hours away for a burger? All I can imagine is if the director even whispered "budget cut" in a film studio, there would be mass fainting. And then, there is the ultimate splurge: Celebrities buying houses and cars like there's no tomorrow. You make $20 million a year. Why not buy a $30 million home? Welcome to the club where bankruptcy is just another sequel to the blockbuster of life.

In all fairness we need not judge. What is extravagant to us is essential necessity to them. Sure, because nothing screams "essential" like a banana for the price of a private jet or a diamond face-implant destined to end as a flop/tragedy. Some invest in mutual funds; others duct-tape produce to walls. Cheers to the absurdity of human ambitions, duct-taped for posterity. If you make $20 million a year, and go and buy a 30 million dollar house, you are still broke.

A semi-pensioner with lot to do and little to gain!

Raju Korti
These days, I tell anyone, who cares to ask, that I am a semi-pensioner -- caught between the uncertainty of no stable income and the constant struggle to find purpose. Living in this limbo, each day is a balancing act of managing my limited resources and seeking a sense of belonging. In short, an existential crisis.

Image generated through AI

As a semi-pensioner, my existence is a curious blend of freedom and relentless anxiety. I am neither fully retired nor gainfully employed, a predicament where financial instability looms large. Every day is a jigsaw puzzle of survival strategies, trying to stretch the limited income I have from sporadic minor work and the rapidly dwindling remains of my past savings.

The thought of retiring (rather being made to retire) before the age of 60 felt like stepping off a cliff into an abyss. In my naivete, I had envisioned an extended vacation, filled with leisurely pursuits and newfound passions. Instead, I found myself feeling lost and purposeless. The social interactions and daily routines of work, which I once took for granted, became gaping voids in my life. I quickly caught on to the fact that without structure and a sense of contribution, retirement was far from the tantalizing scenario of a blissful escape I had imagined.

Returning to work in a minor capacity was a compelling necessity, both financially and mentally. The income is modest, just enough to keep the wheels turning, but not enough to alleviate the persistent worry about the future. At 68, I am still grappling with the need to reinvent myself. Every morning, I search for a reason to get out of the bed beyond the basics of eating and self-care. It is a struggle to find meaning and purpose in a life that feels increasingly fragmented. This blog is just an escape route and a fleeting but desperate attempt at diversion and distraction.

The society views work as more than just a means to earn money; it is intertwined with one's identity and sense of worth. Money is, undeniably, the currency of survival. Without it, the existential crisis deepens, making every day a battle to sustain oneself. I believe, we are a tribal species, and without a community or support system, survival becomes an uphill task. Finding my tribe in retirement has been essential, yet incredibly challenging. 

I feel that everything else apart, cooperation and connection are vital. Those without a tribe tend to wither, their lives shrinking as they struggle alone. Health issues add another layer of complexity, as the safety net of family or friends becomes even more critical. I do not know if I sound emotional or overly sensitive, but to me an honest confession overrides all other thoughts.

In this journey, I have come to realize that while financial security is paramount, emotional and social well-being are as much important. The predicament of being a semi-pensioner is one of navigating uncertainties, but also seeking out the pockets of life where joy and purpose have to be rummaged from the unending struggle.

In the dance between survival and purpose, my steps falter, yet I persist. In the twilight of uncertainty, hoping that the beginning of a new dawn awaits. Jeevan chalne ka naam, chalte raho subaho shaam!                      

Trump 2.0: Corporate interests over public good

Raju Korti
Flush with his victory, President-elect Donald Trump has unveiled a series of high-profile cabinet appointments, blending political loyalists, outspoken firebrands, and a few polarizing figures. Expectedly, these selections have sent ripples through the US of A and international political landscapes. About Washington's foreign policies to put it precisely.

Donald Trump, Wikipedia grab

Trump's past record and recent rhetoric provide a window into the foreign policy trajectory he may chart. Known for his transactional diplomacy, Trump's approach to geopolitics is often seen prioritizing personal rapport and economic pragmatism over conventional diplomatic norms, with implications for several key players on the global stage.

It is only natural that I (must) begin with the Indian standpoint. India stands to benefit from Trump's pro-business stance and counter-China agenda, which align with New Delhi's own strategic priorities. His earlier tenure saw stronger bilateral ties (compared to Biden), driven by mutual interests in defence, trade and counter-terrorism. The catch here is Trump's tendency to scrutinize trade imbalances may also resurface, potentially leading to tensions on issues like market access and tariffs. As fellow journalist, Mayank Chhaya observed cryptically after Trump's victory: "Ab taareef aur tariffs, dono ke liye taiyyar ho jaiye".       

In the case of China, I do not see Trump's hardline stance likely to soften any bit. His trade wars, technology bans and rhetoric blaming Beijing for the Covid-19 pandemic highlight his confrontational approach. There is therefore every reason to believe that his second term could see an intensified decoupling efforts, with broader alliances like the Quad playing more central role.

My gut feeling is Russia presents a more complex scenario. Despite accusations of undue deference to Vladimir Putin during his first term, Trump may leverage his unconventional diplomacy to navigate the Ukraine crisis, albeit with a more America-centric focus. It would not be altogether surprising that such an approach could embolden Moscow, but his unpredictability keeps this relationship on a tightrope.

Iran has a bigger headache on its hands. Trump's decision to withdraw from the nuclear deal underscored his zero-tolerance policy towards Tehran's regional ambitions. A return to power imply heightened sanctions, military posturing, and limited diplomatic engagement unless, of course, Iran bends significantly. In the present scenario, that is difficult to imagine.

While there has been a talk about Pakistan having all the cause of worry, it needs to be kept in mind that Trump's oscillation between praise and criticism could persist. While he may continue to demand accountability on counter-terrorism, his transactional approach could also see renewed aid if deemed strategically beneficial. What this simply translates into is the Americans will be guided by their own political expediencies and the India-Pakistan dynamics will play a limited role -- mostly pompous statements -- as and when it suits them. Understandably, some of the announcements made in the past by his aides have sparked unease in Pakistan, but I personally do not read too much into it as these contradiction always obtain.      

A notable hallmark of Trump's governance has been the appointment of ultra-wealthy individuals to key cabinet positions, raising concerns about an indicative Plutocracy. His second administration may amplify this trend, with billionaires and corporate elites likely to hold sway in policy-making decisions. It is not without a plausible reason that this approach risks prioritizing corporate interests over public good, undermining trust in governance.        

Mike Tyson's last hurrah, a resounding victory in defeat!

Raju Korti
I have never been particularly drawn to the brutal theatrics of boxing. The ring, with its violent dances of power and precision, feels both electrifying and unnerving. Yet, like many, I have found myself captivated by figures like Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier among others, whose lives outside the ropes have often been as compelling as their careers inside them. And then, there's Mike Tyson -- a man whose story is less a boxing saga and more a rollercoaster of triumph, controversy, redemption, and spectacle. 

On Friday night, at 58 years old, a battle-scarred Tyson stepped into the ring for what he called "one last time". Squaring off against Jake Paul, a YouTube personality turned fighter, Tyson may have lost by unanimous decision, but this was far from defeat in the accepted, conventional sense. Before a crowd of 72,300 at the AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas, and millions of viewers worldwide, Tyson demonstrated not only the unending allure of his persona but also the sheer resilience that has defined his life.

For someone who almost died just a few months ago, Tyson's appearance in the ring was an emphatic statement. It was not just sheer bravado and bluster that boxers are known for but also of unshakeable confidence. He revealed that a severe health crisis in June had left him debilitated and fighting for life -- losing half of his blood, enduring eight transfusions, and shedding 25 pounds while being laid low in a hospital. "I almost died", admitted Tyson. Yet, there he was toe-to-toe with an opponent less than half his age, in what he fittingly described a a victory in its own right.

It is as tempting as it is easy to criticise Jake Paul for orchestrating a fight with someone three decades his senior, or for taking his foot off the gas after the third round when Tyson's age began to show. However, there's another perspective worth considering: Paul's arrangement gave Tyson a controlled environment to bow out gracefully, not only avoiding serious harm but also walking away with a massive $20 million payday. It was, in its own way, a tribute to Tyson's legendary status -- a recognition of his place in boxing's pantheon. Little wonder then that Tyson proclaimed victory in that defeat.

Exuding raw masculinity and brute power, two characteristics that best describe any great boxer worth his salt, Tyson is often celebrated as one of the greatest heavyweight boxers of all time. A fighter whose ferocity and demonic strength redefined the sport. His explosive style in the ring was matched only by the sheer intimidation he exuded -- an aura he consciously modelled after his idol, Sonny Liston, the legendary "bad man" of boxing's past. Like Liston, Tyson blended unrelenting aggression with an enigmatic, often controversial persona that extended beyond the ropes, creating a mystique that both enthralled and unsettled fans. It did that to me, never a great votary of an activity described as sport. His life and career, a volatile mix of brilliance and chaos, mirrored the very essence of the sport he dominated, making him not just a champion but a symbol of boxing's primal intensity.

Tyson's career has been nothing short of a cinematic epic. From becoming the youngest heavyweight champion at 20 to his infamous bouts with Evander Holyfield (remember that ear-biting scandal) from the prison sentence that nearly destroyed him to his remarkable reinvention as a pop culture icon, Tyson has lived a life larger than life itself.

To me, what makes Tyson fascinating isn't just his triumphs and his controversies but his willingness to evolve. In his youth, Tyson was a force of nature -- unrelenting, intimidating, and unpredictable. Now, he has metamorphosed into a reflective elder statesman of the sport, candid about his struggles, health issues, and the inevitability of ageing. His acknowledgement of "losing but still winning" speaks to a newfound humility, an awareness that life's victories aren't always measured by trophies or score-cards.

Friday night's fight was less about boxing and more about a legacy. For Tyson, it was a chance to share a final moment in the spotlight, to remind the world of his enduring spirit, and to allow his children to witness their father's resilience. For the fans, it was it was a farewell to a man whose life story has been as captivating as any fight he has ever been in. For a diehard scribe like me who uses "flexing muscles" or "bulging biceps" only in figurative sense, he makes for an irresistible copy.

TAILPIECE
I am told that Jake Paul (27) after making short work of Tyson (58), has now set his eyes on Jimmy Carter (100).        

Toying with emotions through emoticons!

Raju Korti
Imagine this: an entire conversation, possibly a friendship, sustained through an endless stream of thumbs-up, heart eyes, laughing tears, and facepalms. This is not some futuristic language experiment but the current reality of communication, especially on social media platforms like WhatsApp. The phenomenon of emojis -- or emoticons if you like -- has almost usurped language from mere words to multi-coloured symbols, sometimes witty, sometimes baffling, and occasionally even profound. But what are we sacrificing -- and gaining -- in this quirky semiotic revolution?

Save for a few emoticons, I have found most of them esoteric and baffling. As someone who is word-indulgent (not prosaic), I have always reveled in deploying words but having taught across most reputed colleges in Mumbai, my constituency was completely different. I discovered the youngsters preferred to rely more on emoticons than words when it came to communicating. It was as baffling as it was amusing. A new emoticon would often make me scurry to the net to know what it meant, only to forget it when dealing with it again next time.

Lest I should be thought of as an impatient, ageing, old-fashioned, man bogged down by generation issues, let me say this: Emoticons, at their core, are symbols -- a throwback to the days of hieroglyphs. I can understand, though not always appreciate, that they don't just complement language; in some cases they replace it entirely. Younger generations have developed an almost mystical grasp over these pixelated glyphs, piecing together sentences and sentiments without typing a single word. It is a swift, shorthand way of expressing everything from joy to exasperation. And who wouldn't appreciate the efficiency of sending a single crying-laughing face instead of typing out, "That's hilarious"! 

Indeed, emoticons have introduced an undeniably universal element to the language, creating a bridge across cultures. Think of the globe's most popular emoticons like the "smiley or the anger." No matter where you are from, they deliver a shared sense of meaning -- far more effective than wrestling with translation software or cross-cultural misunderstandings. Looked thus, emoticons have enriched the linguistic landscape, giving people a common tongue that transcends language barriers and even generations. 

However, there is a cost to this pictorial convenience. Language is more than just communication. It is a carrier of culture, nuance, and history. When reduced to symbols, the fidelity and the richness of expression and subtlety might be lost. Take sarcasm for instance -- a favourite tool in any wordsmith's toolkit. How does one convey biting sarcasm or layered irony through a mere smiling face? Sure there are emoticons that come closer but are not quire right there.

For the traditionalists (who may feel that emoticons are the linguistic equivalent of graffiti on a library wall), there is an apprehension that we are witnessing the decline of words themselves. With emoticons, people are encouraged to think in bite-sized, colourful fragments rather than in full, articulate sentences. What could this mean for the future of language skills, for reading comprehension, or for the beauty of crafted prose? If emoticons take over as the "universal language" could we face a future where words are relegated to the sidelines, merely supporting acts in a new world of smileys and symbols?

Perhaps, we are being too harsh. Language has always evolved, after all. Just as English absorbed words from Latin, French and German, it is entirely possible that emoticons are well on course of this revolutionary phase. There is an art in choosing the right emoticon that resonates with tone and context, a skill that requires sautéing empathy and cultural awareness. A youngster may create a cocktail of emoticons to represent emotions in ways that words may not fully capture, embodying the very essence of communication in a digital age. In fact, emoticon users might argue they're making language more accessible, malleable, more concise, and above all, more fun.

So, are emoticons the future? Will they replace language, or will they continue as mere accompanying artistes? The jury in me is still out but the prosecution in me hesitates. In a world that is speeding up, emoticons have found a way to meet the pace, even if they leave die-hard grammar enthusiasts (like me) shaking their heads in despair. Perhaps the best approach is to see emoticons as what they are: an accessory, not a replacement. A well placed emoticon can amplify the meaning, while overuse can lead to a grey area of ambiguity. Ask me. I deal with them first thing in the morning when grappling with messages on WhatsApp.

In this tug of war between a liberal and a conservative, I would evaluate emoticons as neither a linguistic hero nor a villain. They are just symbols of the times. And may be the next time we are tempted to send an emoticon without a single word accompanying it, we might pause and wonder: is this an evolution of language or merely its colourful eclipse?                         

Do and Undo: The high-stakes game of scrapping public projects

Raju Korti
In the highly crooked landscape of Indian politics, there appears a pattern preceding most elections: the tendency of opposition parties to promise the scrapping of major projects introduced by the ruling party. The latest example is Uddhav Thackeray's Shiv Sena declaring it would scrap the Dharavi Redevelopment Project if elected to power. Similar reversals, some of which immediately come to the mind and mentioned here, illustrate this recurring "do and undo" phenomenon. 

A Wikipedia grab of Dharavi

While people, divided on party lines, rejoice in this specious but senseless assurances, it is conveniently forgotten what this means to the citizens, and more critically, for the state's financial health. Take for instance the Bullet Train project in Maharashtra linking Mumbai and Ahmedabad. It initially received support from the Maharashtra Government. However, after the Vikas Aghadi (MVA) coalition came to power in 2019, there were suggestions to reassess the project's land acquisition process and question its viability, especially given its cost. It slowed down the project and delays only added to complications and cost escalation. The project was re-railed with the change in the government. This back-and-forth delayed construction, shot up costs, and frustrated stakeholders. The story of Mumbai's Metro 3, is not different.

The Statue of Unity in Gujarat, the Aarey Forest Metro Car Shed (Mumbai), the three-capital proposal of Andhra Pradesh, the Farm Laws Repeal, Article 370 and Goa Mining Ban only underscore the frequent shifts in policy when rival parties assume power, often leaving the projects in limbo and leading to escalating costs and heartburns. The effects range from economic disruptions to loss of public trust, with each example reinforcing the need for stability and continuity in state policy, especially on large-scale initiatives impacting millions of citizens. But trust deficit means little to parties blinded with political gains and brownie points.

Projects like the Dharavi Redevelopment take hits from such flip flops that are purely meant to show needless one-upmanship. There is little thought for the implications this would have for residents living there in challenging conditions. For years, Dharavi's residents have looked to redevelopment as a pathway to improved housing and sanitation, job opportunities, and enhanced living standards. If halted, the delay would extend the community's struggles, keep them languishing in deteriorating conditions, and shaking their faith in government promises, which in any case, are taken with a bagful of salt. Dharavi, as it were, should not have been allowed to happen in the first place but the federal governance in India has always been about first allowing a problem to grow and then resolve it for seeking political gains.

Political leaders never tire of shouting hoarse about poverty in the country. Chest beating for the have-nots has now outlived its utility as a political rhetoric, and yet, this spools plays regularly. Nobody is even amused anymore. Beyond this political recreation, such policy reversals have severe financial implications. For those who couldn't care this way or that, the loss is finally recovered from them. 

Projects like the Dharavi Redevelopment involve years of painstaking planning, tendering processes, and substantial investments in preparatory work. When a new government decides to halt or reverse these projects, these sunk costs -- money spent without producing a tangible result -- add up. Not only the public bears these losses, the state also diverts resources from potentially productive projects.

In Maharashtra, significant resources were directed towards major infrastructure projects like the Mumbai Metro, Coastal Road, and regional economic hubs. Political promises to put on hold, halt, scale back such initiatives -- often to align with ideological or populist positions -- disrupt their envisioned benefits. The state loses both direct financial investments and the potential long-term revenue and growth these projects are meant to generate.

The key question is whether these policy reversals serve any larger ideological purpose. While some policy shift reflect genuine ideological differences, many reversals are driven by political motives to serve the interests of a particular class of people or constituency. The Dharavi Project, for instance, is less about ideology and more of a politically symbolic gesture -- asserting that the new regime can and will undo its rivals' work. Adani or what is often bandied as "crony capitalism" is just a front. 

This political manoeuvring comes at a high price -- not just financially but also in terms of continuity and stability. The administrative machinery, which spends months if not years planning and implementing projects, is thrown into disarray when new governments rewrite policy plans. 

Such a "do and undo" cycle also adversely impacts investor and public confidence. Consistent policy changes make it challenging for investors and tax-payers (read citizens), especially in real estate, manufacturing and infrastructure, to trust long-term commitments. If foreign investors and development partners feel uncertain about project stability, they may hesitate to commit capital to projects that could be terminated based on electoral outcomes. Moreover, this cycle restricts bureaucratic progress, diverting attention from growth-centric policies. Bureaucrats, unable to rely on continuity, tend to become wary in decision-making. It shifts their focus to adopting short-term safe policies over long-term, transformative initiatives.

For a so called "progressive and Numero Uno" Maharashtra to emerge from the "do and undo" trap, a bipartisan approach to major policy decisions could be a step forward. Instituting bipartisan committees to vet large infrastructure projects before they commence, or establishing special legislative approvals for major reversals, could introduce checks on politically motivated policy reversals. Additionally, involving citizen advisory boards and local representatives in decision-making can create a direct connection between policy decisions and public sentiment. This could ensure that the people's needs are prioritized over political gains. The moot point is can this happen in a country where larger public interests are sacrificed for myopic political gains?

Maharashtra with its rich history and vast economic ambitions, cannot afford to allow its growth trajectory to be dictated by cyclical political rivalries. But can collaborative governance ever happen in a country where petty rivalries divide and rule hapless citizens?

Pawar Play: The art of saying goodbye without leaving

Raju Korti
I first bumped into Sharad Pawar way back in 1975 in Sangli when I was pursuing my second year in Engineering. I was 19, and he at 34 was emerging as a promising young politician under the tutelage of the astute Yashwantrao Chavan. In the prosperous Western Maharashtra belt, powered by its cooperative movement and influential agrarian leaders, Pawar appeared as a face of a new era -- a striking figure in Ray Ban sunglasses and blue jeans, carrying a dash of flair and a fairly impressive knowledge of Marathi Literature. As the years passed, he evolved effortlessly into a shrewd leader with an uncanny ability to attract the masses. Yet, his early image of youthful dynamism gradually gave way to a reputation for strategic cunning and complex political manoeuvring that would become his hallmark.

As the young man in his stylish avtaar walked with a confident gait and an assured demeanour, I could see he was markedly different from the seniors in his league -- Sangli's sugar baron Vasant Dada Patil, Walve's sugar baron Rajarambapu Patil and Shirol's Ratnappa Kumbhar. But little did I have an inkling that he would leave them all behind one day -- for good and bad reasons. 

This rather longish preamble of history is necessitated in the view of what I have to write about him today, although those who have seen him all these years, would see through him and his penchant for political machinations, as nothing surprising. The 83-year-old Nationalist Congress Party leader today hinted at retirement from active politics, stating that he may not contest future elections. He expressed his intentions to pass on the party baton -- particularly the progress of Baramati -- to his successor Yugendra Pawar. Speculations over Pawar's final innings in electoral politics have been circulating for some time now, and was raked up again by nephew Ajit Pawar.  

The Pawar Vs Pawar fight for Baramati might be seen as a referendum on Sharad Pawar's continuing influence over voters, as it sees his grandnephew Yugendra Pawar, do a battle against nephew Ajit Pawar whose rebellion forced a split in NCP. The fact, however, is it is not about his fighting further electoral battles but about his leadership. His hint of stepping away from active politics after his current Rajya Sabha term sparks questions about the authenticity of his statement, especially given his past record of unpredictability in critical political moments. All along, he has skilfully pivoted on similar retirement pronouncements before, keeping both allies and adversaries on the edge and guessing. 

Pawar's narrative of passing the torch to younger leaders, specifically positioning Yugendra Pawar for Baramati, could well be another strategic move to rally his support base amid the purported family rift triggered by Ajit Pawar. Remember, the stories of the nephew being planted in the Devendra Fadnavis' camp during the early morning swear-in and how he (the nephew) pulled the rug from under Fadnavis' feet and returned to his party fold before the incumbent chief minister had even managed to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.

Pawar's political conduct is such that people are forced to read something into it even when there is none. The timing of Pawar's statement to bow out of active politics coinciding with Ajit's defection and the upcoming assembly elections, raises a legitimate talking point: Is this a genuine exit or yet another tactic to consolidate the NCP's legacy under his proxy successors. Better still, another ploy to throw dust in the eyes of his adversaries; always unable to read his wrong 'uns.

It would not be altogether surprising that given his past hints, his retirement announcements might be a calculated manoeuvre to command greater authority over his party's trajectory. His refusal to retire during the 2023 NCP split, when he famously declared "Na tired hu, na retired hu", displayed a characteristic resistance to being sidelined -- especially by familial dissenters. When he announced his resignation as party chief last year, it was retracted as swiftly, illustrated his penchant for leaving his audience guessing.

In that light, Pawar's latest remarks could well serve his intentions of killing several birds with one stone: appeasing for generational leadership change, asserting his influence within the NCP amid Ajit Pawar's blow-hot-blow-cold power play, and perhaps most importantly, creating space for his allies without formally stepping down. The political chessboard he has crafted shows he has mastered the art of remaining in the game, even if he hints otherwise.

In politics, retirement is less a final act and more of a recurring plot twist. So, as Pawar hints at his last bow, there is every reason to surmise that it could be just another intermission before the next act. After all, in the grand theater of Sharad Pawar's career, curtains quite never close. They just get dramatically drawn back. Come rain or no rain.