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.