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.

Assassination games in the midst of Middle East war theatre!

Raju Korti
I don’t know if I should be alarmed, amused, or just give up trying to understand modern geopolitics. We now live in a world where Ayatollah Khamenei was apparently on Israel’s most-wanted list, until -- wait for it -- Donald Trump said, “Nope, let’s not kill him.” This, from the man who once asked if nuking hurricanes was a viable option. And now Iran, feeling justifiably annoyed or theatrically vengeful, allegedly wants to return the favour -- by plotting to bump off Trump. This can give any Netflix thriller, a run for its money.

Let’s take a moment. Imagine that strategy meeting in Israel. Mossad agents in a dim-lit bunker, everyone looking deadly serious, and then someone says, “So we take out Khamenei?” and suddenly, a virtual Trump appears on a screen, gold curtains in the background, saying, “I wouldn’t do it. He’s not a bad guy. Terrible beard, but not the worst. Anyway, not as worst as my permanent scowl. Believe me.” And that ends the mission.

Then, in an ironic twist only the 21st century could cough up, Iran allegedly starts thinking, “Okay, let’s go for Trump then.” Let that sink in. The country accused of trying to flatten Israel with rockets now sees Trump as a worthy target. Not Biden. Not Netanyahu. Trump!

Of course, this is not to say the situation isn't dire. Missiles are flying, nuclear chatter is growing louder, and superpowers are flexing like they are on heavy dose of steroids. But wedged awkwardly in all this carnage is the spectacle of everyone trying to kill someone the others didn’t expect. It is like a game of geopolitical musical chairs, only the chairs explode.

Meanwhile, true to his form, Trump, ever the maestro of melodrama, might now pitch this as proof that even Iran fears him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts wearing a bulletproof vest in public and brands it “TRUMP ARMOUR -- Now Iran-Proof!” As absurd as it sounds, this could actually boost his approval ratings among certain voters who believe he personally wrestled Soleimani, the high-ranking Iranian military officer who served in the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps.

All said and done, it is a strange world where assassination plans are weighed and vetoed like dinner menu items. But perhaps the most bizarre thing is this: even in a scenario that looks dangerously close to triggering World War III, the punchline still ends with Trump. And not even the Ayatollah saw that coming.

Crash of reason: When social media takes off without a runway

Raju Korti
After the tragic Air India Boeing Dreamliner tragedy, something even more jarring has unfolded -- not in the skies, but in the space of social media, where a digital avalanche of opinions, half-facts, visuals and visceral reactions has taken over every feed and scroll. It is as though civil aviation has suddenly become an obsessive-compulsive disorder, a mania that has gripped everyone from armchair analysts to influencers with absolutely no aviation background.

Everyone, it seems, is now an expert, a safety auditor, or worse, a crash investigator --speculating on everything from fuselage fatigue to weather anomalies, pilot training to the conspiratorial leanings of black boxes, never mind that official investigators haven’t even scratched the surface yet.

Representational pic of the ill-fated flight

Theories mushroom faster than facts -- some dissecting Air India’s allegedly lax management, others praising its compensation packages with such emotion that one wonders if the writers are public relations officers in disguise. There are viral clips of tailspins and near-misses, infographics about the “miracle seat” 11A, emotional montages of victims, pilots being turned into either heroes or scapegoats, and an endless barrage of “top 10 safest airlines” posts, as if one can algorithm their way to a crash-proof existence.

Boeing’s reputation has become a punching bag for some and a fragile trophy for others, depending on who’s pushing the post and how much ad revenue is at stake. Stories about emergency landings are being recycled with alarming frequency, creating the illusion that the sky is literally falling. The black box, CVR, and DFDR are being decoded in amateur YouTube videos as if the very sanctity of crash investigation protocols were optional. Condolences are mixed with conspiracy, sympathy overlaps with clickbait, and what should have been a time of solemn reflection has turned into an open-air market of monetised grief and algorithm-fed frenzy.

It is hard to tell now whether we are being driven by a social media algorithm or a more disturbing human one -- one that thrives on immediacy over empathy, virality over veracity. In the name of information, we have built a parallel airspace of noise, where everyone is flying blind.

Grief has turned into a social media circus. 

Israel-Iran Conflict: A ticking bomb with global shockwaves!

Raju Korti
As someone who has watched international conflicts unfold over the years, I find the current Israel-Iran confrontation particularly unsettling. Not just for the immediate violence it entails, but for the broader ripple effects it threatens to unleash. What began as shadow skirmishes and proxy battles has now spiralled into a direct face-off, with both nations publicly declaring their intentions and red lines. One side has declared it’s prepared for an all-out war; the other has promised nothing short of full-force retaliation. When a country openly threatens to wipe out another’s oil infrastructure or dares it to accept the destruction of its nuclear program in silence, it is no longer just rhetoric. It is a scenario one misstep away from spiraling into a region-wide disaster.

What’s more worrisome is that this isn't merely a bilateral squabble. It comes with undertones of shifting global power dynamics, with the US trying to strike a careful balance -- disowning direct involvement while making it clear that Iran must not develop nuclear weapons. Yet the irony is hard to miss. While the US distances itself politically, its military footprint in the region still makes it a target, perhaps by design or by accident. And Iran’s arsenal of ballistic missiles -- many of which can reach American bases in Iraq and the Gulf --only sharpens that possibility. With Iran already launching hundreds of drones and missiles, and Israel taking out key Iranian military and nuclear sites, this is a conflict that has left the realm of plausible deniability. We are now in open confrontation territory.

But there may be something more at play here. One can't help but feel that the theatre of conflict has shifted from South Asia to the Middle East with uncanny timing. For decades, the world’s attention was locked on the India-Pakistan fault line, and to an extent, the Afghanistan tangle. Now, it is the Israel-Iran corridor that’s ablaze, possibly because of wider geopolitical recalibrations. Is this a deliberate redirection of global focus? Or is it the natural outcome of unresolved tensions that have long been simmering beneath the surface? Either way, the Middle East is once again the crucible in which international power games are being tested -- and this time, they come with nuclear undertones, energy disruptions, and heightened religious and ideological stakes.

One of the most critical flashpoints in all this is the Strait of Hormuz, the narrow waterway through which nearly a third of the world’s seaborne oil flows. A serious disruption here wouldn’t just affect Israel or Iran. It would send oil prices soaring globally, choke shipping routes, and hurt economies like India that are heavily dependent on imported energy. Already, oil markets are reacting nervously. Geopolitics is back in the driver's seat, and oil is once again the gauge of global anxiety. If the current tit-for-tat spirals into a prolonged conflict, the effects won’t be limited to missile damage or diplomatic fallout. They will be felt at fuel stations, stock exchanges, and dinner tables far from the Middle East. That’s why this isn’t just Israel vs. Iran. It is a moment where the world holds its breath -- and perhaps, as history has shown us too often, hopes in vain for wiser heads to prevail.

A few thoughts about Trump’s new immigration ban

Raju Korti
In a move that is bound to stir both domestic and global discourse, US President Donald Trump has signed yet another sweeping proclamation restricting entry from 12 countries -- many of them conflict-ridden or economically fragile -- while partially limiting nationals from seven others. Citing national security and public safety threats, Trump has cast the net wider than ever, echoing the contours of his earlier “Muslim Ban,” now with an expanded scope and a more forceful tone.

This isn’t new terrain for Trump. During his first term, similar restrictions drew fire globally but were upheld by the US Supreme Court. His justification remains consistent: protecting American citizens from "aliens" with alleged hostile intent or ideological extremism. This time, the recent terror attack in Boulder, Colorado, seems to have offered him the political ammunition to reassert his hardline immigration stance.

For India, and for nations observing the evolution of US foreign policy, this move highlights a persistent contradiction. The countries now barred or restricted -- from Afghanistan and Iran to Venezuela and Sudan -- have had varied relationships with Washington, often transactional, sometimes turbulent. In many cases, these same nations were once recipients of US aid, military support, or geopolitical backing. Afghanistan, for instance, bore the brunt of US intervention for two decades; Libya was once courted as a partner in counterterrorism; Iran’s rollercoaster relationship with Washington has swung between rapprochement and ruin. And now, they stand blacklisted.

For Indians who track US immigration patterns with intense interest -- particularly students, professionals, and families with diaspora links -- the implications are more than academic. Trump’s new proclamation doesn’t target India, but the principle behind the move raises red flags. The message is blunt: ideology and identity can override individual merit or due process when national security becomes the catch-all rationale. It also reopens the debate on how vetting processes are politicised and selectively enforced.

Globally, the move reinforces the narrative of an insular America, where fortress-like policies overshadow the country’s founding ideals of openness and pluralism. While Trump’s supporters hail it as strength, critics warn it chips away at America's soft power -- its global image as a destination of opportunity and freedom.

In essence, Trump’s proclamation is less about immediate threat mitigation and more about domestic posturing. But for the barred nations and their citizens -- and for the rest of the world watching -- the wall has indeed grown taller, both literally and metaphorically.

The Great Escape, Karachi edition: Jail breaks in real life!

Raju Korti
I have always been a sucker for a good jailbreak scene in Hindi films. Those dramatic moments where the hero, wronged by fate, outsmarts a comically inept prison guard and scales a wall to swelling background music. It is all very noble, very Bollywood. The prisoner is a misunderstood soul, the jail a flimsy set piece, and the escape a triumph of human spirit. But when I read about the real-life jailbreak in Karachi’s Malir Prison the other day (June 2, 2025 to be precise), where 100 prisoners bolted after an earthquake rattled the bars, my cinematic fantasies crashed into a grim reality. One inmate was shot dead, 78 were recaptured, and the rest? Still out there, somewhere in the chaos of Karachi’s streets. This wasn’t Bollywood bravado. It was a stark reminder of how fragile prison systems can be when nature and negligence collide.

Let’s start with Karachi jailbreak. An earthquake, that great equaliser of human plans, forced prison officials to move inmates from their cells to open areas for safety. In the ensuing disorder, 700 to 1,000 prisoners reportedly gathered at the main gate, and around 100 made a break for it. No walls collapsed, despite early rumours, but the main gate was forced open, and in the pandemonium, freedom was up for grabs. The Sindh Home Minister, Zia-ul-Hasan Lanjar, admitted to possible staff negligence, and a joint operation with police, Rangers, and Frontier Corps scrambled to regain control. The incident left one inmate dead, three Frontier Corps personnel injured, and a city on edge. It’s the kind of mess that makes you wonder if the prison walls were made of butter -- or at least held together with the bureaucratic equivalent of chewing gum.

(Pic representational)

What does this say about jail administration? In Pakistan, it’s a neon sign flashing “systemic failure.” The Malir breakout wasn’t a sophisticated heist but an opportunistic sprint triggered by a natural disaster. Overcrowding, a chronic issue, likely amplified the chaos -- Pakistan’s prisons operate at 152.9% capacity, with Sindh jails at 161.42%. That’s like trying to cram a family reunion into a broom closet. Add to that, understaffed facilities and allegation of corruption -- like the 2019 Sindh High Court ruling that wealthy inmates could bribe their way to cushy hospital transfers -- and you have got a recipe for disaster. The embarrassment for authorities is palpable: a prison breach of this scale isn’t just a security lapse; it’s a public relations nightmare that erodes trust in the state’s ability to maintain order.

But is Pakistan different, or are prison breaks a global headache? The data suggests they are rarer than Bollywood would have me believe, but when they happen, they expose universal cracks. In the US, a 2025 breakout at New Orleans’ Orleans Justice Center saw 10 inmates escape through defective locks and a hole behind a toilet. In France, a 2018 helicopter-assisted escape from Réau Prison grabbed headlines, showing even high-security facilities can falter. Globally, the World Prison Brief notes that prison breaks are statistically uncommon, but high-profile cases -- like the 2013 Taliban-orchestrated escape in Dera Ismail Khan, Pakistan, freeing over 200 inmates -- highlight vulnerabilities in underfunded or poorly managed systems. Developing nations, with overcrowded and under-resourced prisons, are particularly susceptible, but no country is immune when human error or infrastructure failure kicks in.

Are jails worldwide ill-equipped for their growing populations? Absolutely, in many cases. My research showed Pakistan’s 102,026 inmates are squeezed into 128 facilities designed for 65,811, a 52.9% overcrowding rate. The US incarcerates 639 per 100,000 people, one of the highest rates globally, with jails often doubling as de facto mental health facilities -- a role they are woefully unprepared for. In the Philippines, 85-90% of inmates are pretrial detainees, clogging an already strained system. Overcrowding breeds chaos: it stretches staff thin, compromises security, and makes rehabilitation a pipe dream. Pakistan’s juvenile facilities, like those in Karachi and Bahawalpur, are no exception, with kids packed into wards at three times capacity, facing harsh discipline and minimal education. It’s less a correctional system and more a pressure cooker.

The legal implications of jailbreaks are thorny. Escaped prisoners, especially those awaiting trial can delay or derail judicial processes. In Karachi, the recapture of 78 inmates is a partial redemption, but the 18-20 still at large could pose risks to public safety or, worse, rejoin criminal networks. Legally, authorities face pressure to tighten security without violating human rights -- a delicate balance when prisons are already criticised for torture, inadequate healthcare, and inhumane conditions. Socially, jailbreaks fuel public fear and distrust. Posts on X after the Malir incident described “panic in Karachi” and called it a “reflection of Pakistan’s crumbling law enforcement.” When citizens see criminals waltzing out of jail, it’s not just embarrassing. It is a sledge hammer punch on the social fabric.

Reforms are floated endlessly. Pakistan’s proposed National Jail Reform Policy in November 2024 aims to align with the UN’s Nelson Mandela Rules, emphasising humane treatment and rehabilitation. But without addressing root causes like judicial delays, outdated bail laws, and corruption, it is like putting a Band-Aid on a broken leg. Globally, alternatives like probation, community service, or electronic monitoring could ease overcrowding, but Pakistan’s probation system is understaffed, with Karachi served by a single officer. It’s hard to reform in such conditions.

So, no, prison walls aren’t made of butter, but they might as well be when systems are stretched beyond capacity. The Karachi jailbreak wasn’t a Bollywood triumph. It was a wake-up call. Until governments invest in infrastructure, training, and judicial reforms, we will keep seeing inmates slip through the cracks, leaving society to pick up the pieces. 

The contradictory compass of American foreign policy!

Raju Korti
Over the last forty-five plus years, I have found myself frequently perplexed, sometimes even darkly amused, by the sheer contradictions that run like a fault line through American foreign policy. The United States has long projected itself as the global torchbearer of democracy, liberty, and the rule of law. Yet, its actions, both historical and contemporary, reveal a pattern more self-serving, opportunistic, and, at times, deeply hypocritical.

Take, for instance, Osama bin Laden. During the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan in the 1980s, the US, through its CIA-backed Operation Cyclone, funnelled billions of dollars in weapons and training to the Mujahideen -- among them, bin Laden himself. At the time, he was a useful asset in America’s proxy war against Moscow. Decades later, he became the architect of 9/11, the very embodiment of the terror the US had once indirectly nurtured. That’s not an unfortunate twist of fate; that’s a policy boomerang.

(Pic representational)

The same duplicity is evident in America’s tangled relationship with Pakistan. While proclaiming India to be a natural ally -- flattering its democratic ethos and market potential --Washington has simultaneously continued to pump in billions in military and economic aid to Pakistan, a country with a well-documented history of harbouring terrorists, including bin Laden himself, who was found just a few kilometers from Pakistan’s military academy. The balancing act here isn’t diplomacy; it is duplicity dressed as pragmatism.

This isn’t new. American foreign policy has, for decades, treated geographical proximity and economic interests as moral justifications. Mexico and Canada, for instance, have endured various forms of economic coercion -- be it through NAFTA-era job siphoning or energy politics. In Latin America, the record is more damning. Nicaragua suffered under the US-funded Contras, who were armed despite their documented human rights abuses. In Chile, the US orchestrated the 1973 coup against Salvador Allende, a democratically elected socialist, and installed the brutal regime of General Pinochet. The Monroe Doctrine was less a hemispheric shield than a licence for interventionism.

Some would say these are relics of Cold War paranoia. But even in the 21st century, similar patterns persist. I recently came across a provocative statement, often attributed to libertarian Spike Cohen, which summarizes the domino logic of US foreign blunders: “ISIS was created by the US Government to fight the Shiite militants, who were armed by the US Government to fight Saddam, who was armed by the US Government to fight Iran, who hates us because the US Government overthrew their elected leader and installed a brutal dictator.” That might sound reductionist, but when you map the facts, it isn’t far from the truth.

In 1953, the CIA deposed Iran’s elected Prime Minister Mossadegh and reinstalled the Shah, laying the groundwork for decades of anti-American resentment that eventually gave rise to the Islamic Revolution. In Iraq, the US once backed Saddam Hussein in the 1980s war against Iran, only to later invade Iraq on shaky premises of WMDs. The vacuum that followed gave rise to Sunni insurgency, from which ISIS was born -- a monster inadvertently sired by short-sighted policy.

Lurking beneath all this is what many have come to call the “Deep State” -- not in the conspiratorial sense popularised by cable television, but in the more systemic reality of entrenched interests within America’s military-industrial complex, intelligence community, and bipartisan hawks. Foreign policy, in this framework, becomes less about consistent principles and more about maintaining strategic and economic hegemony under the garb of “freedom.”

As someone watching from the outside -- or perhaps the periphery -- I can’t help but see these contradictions as both deliberate and structural. They’re not bugs in the system. They are the system.

What troubles me most is not just the duplicity, but the moral cost. Every time America backs a dictator, funds a proxy war, or topples a government in the name of liberty, it chips away at the very ideals it claims to defend. The world sees through it, even if Washington sometimes doesn’t.

History, after all, has a long memory. And increasingly, so do its victims.