An evening spent with Dilip Kumar, the icon on Indian cinema's desktop

Raju Korti
I will never forget my first and only bearing of the Mohammed Yusuf Khan Ghulam Sarwar Khan Peshawari in 1984. The name might confound the new generation whose memories do not stretch beyond  Dilip Kumar's films like Shakti or Saudagar. It was a 'mushaira'  session and Dilip Kumar had decorously chosen to squat on the floor in the true spirit of the event. The mushaira held little interest for me as I was among the legion who knew of his prowess to hold forth with his impeccable Urdu diction. He was equally profound with English and Hindi as I found later after that long one-on-one. 

Sketch by Bhagvan Das

I had handed over my press card to him through one of the organizers and he was gracious enough to acknowledge it with an eye contact right in the midst of reciting an ornamental shayari that came so effortlessly from his literary repositories. I referred to the eye contact because in my considered belief, he was probably the only actor whose eyes spoke eloquently. The rest of the body language just fell in unison. That made up for a devastating combination of the man's histrionics, now part of legendary folklores.

True to his reputation he had arrived well over two hours late and I remember incensed and impatient people had started wondering if the organizers had taken them for a ride. But as some people in the restive crowd had started making their way to the exit, in walked Dilip Kumar, his hands touching his forehead in a theatrical 'aadaab'. It was a measure of his ability to cast a hypnotic spell on the audience that they quickly retraced their steps followed by a hushed silence that could be only explained how he overawed people. He had sensed the mood of the audience with his decades experience as an unsurpassed actor. He was dressed in a Lungi and Kurta and his apple-peach complexion glowed and stood out in the maze of people on the stage.

The programme went on till 4 but more than half way through, he exited the stage and I thought my meeting had fizzled out in thin air. Just as I was grappling with my predicament, an organizer nudged me and told me 'Yusufbhai aap se milenge.' I saw him in his room sitting the same way. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he beckoned me to sit with a 'khushamdeed' -- khu and deed pronounced with the flourish and weight of a true Urdu stickler.

He looked at me amused when I told him that in the trinity that he formed with Dev Anand and Raj Kapoor, he was the Vishnu, Raj Kapoor the Mahesh and Dev Anand the Brahma. "I don't know what makes you say this but I can guess. We were all made up differently though we found our roots in the same profession. We all started a few years plus minus of each other but grew and evolved with a cinematic vision that defined us in a distinct way.

Explaining his metamorphosis from a method and serious actor in the late forties to one who got a little melodramatic towards the later sixties with the fifties as the fulcrum of his landmark performances, Dilip Kumar told me with the same intense, understated expression that had become  archetypal: "My career gradient has seen seamless transitions. From my first film Jwarbhata (1944), I charted some serious roles. Milan, Jugnu, Shaheed, Mela, Andaz, Jogan, Aarzoo, Deedar, Daag, Sangdil, Shikast, Tarana, Footpath, Devdas got me the sobriquet of 'Tragedy King.' I think it has something to do with my resilience with tragedies. In my formative years, I struggled to look after a huge family of in-laws, cousins and other close relatives. Life can be tough and that teaches you to be plaint. Maybe that reflected in my screen disposition."

"Sometimes in mid-fifties you changed track with the likes of Naya Daur, Yahudi, Madhumati, Kohinoor, Mughal-e-Azam, Gunga Jumna, Leader and Ram aur Shyam where your character was less overbearing. You took on lighter roles. Kohinoor, Leader and Ram aur Shyam were actually out and out comedies. How did you enter these skins with the same aplomb?" Dilip Kumar smiled the same mischievous smile that was evident in 'Nain lad jai hai to manwa ma kasak hui bekari'. "Even if there is an opportunity to school yourself in different characters -- characters that have distinct personalities which may be totally different from yours, you have got to completely divorce your own personality to be able to go over to the other personality."       

I do not think that any actor has unfolded the spectrum of acting that Dilip Kumar did. From the drunken, bloodshot-eyed Devdas to the pompous and ceremonious Prince Salim of Mughal-e-Azam, to the eternal romanticist of Madhumati, to the desperate crippled of Aadmi, to the outrageous buffoon in Ram aur Shyam and the over-the-top character in Shakti, Saudagar, Mazdoor and Kranti.His roles resonated in the rotund voice of Rafi through 'Peete peete kabhi kabhi yun jaam badal jaate hai.' The heady concoction was served for sixty five plus years on celluloid.

Nostalgic about the songs that he got to lip synch in the prime of his career, Dilip Kumar considered himself lucky to get the fare he did. "The equations were set in those days. It was Shanker-Jaikishen and Raj Kapoor and SD Burman and Dev(Anand). So it was Naushad mia, Rafisaab and Shakeel (Badayuni) who took up cudgels for me. Initially, Talat (Mehmood) mia who had become my voice but you see how the film music climbed from the subdued low to the screaming high. When Rafisaab took over after his Baiju Bawra success, he was singing in low pitch but he started hitting high notes with Amar (1954) onward. If you would have seen us playing badminton together, you would have seen how well we gelled with each other. Shakeelsaab kalaam likhe, Naushadmia tarz banaaye aur Rafisaab gaaye!"  

Regretting the little fallout with Rafi who was perhaps as blessed in stature, Dilip Kumar said "He (Mohammed Rafi) was a Man of God. Nothing against Kishore but I admit 'Saala mai to saab ban gaya' (Sagina Mahato-1970) looked jarring on me. The status quo was restored with 'Sukh ke sab saathi  (Gopi) and 'Na tu zameen ke liye hai' (Dastaan). It spoke volumes about the three legendary personalities of Indian cinema that they never washed dirty linen in public.

I remember the controversy Dilip Kumar had courted in the mid-eighties when he chose to marry Asma because his marriage with reigning actress and beauty queen Saira Banu was rumored to be fledgling because of the age differences between them. After a lot of dithering, Dilip Kumar came clean and divorced his new wife. As the in-charge of Page One that day, I had carried the story as a box item given the public interest it had generated. However that chapter of his life as also the much spoken about love affair with Madhubala were of no concern to me. Love affairs in the film industry have nothing to offer than some prurient quotient.

Dilip Kumar fondly reminisced how he had reached out to people other than those from his fraternity. "Bal Thackeray was a special friend. We were a mutual admiration club. There were times when I would impromptu gate-crash into his house. We would sit on the terrace of his house and discuss this and that over red wine and a very tasty 'chakna' (a starter) his wife Meenatai would rustle up with boiled peanuts, finely chopped onions, tomatoes and lime. In fact, I so much loved this starter that I remember eating it days on end at home. Contrary to what most people think, our political views never came in between our friendship." Unfortunately, towards the late nineties that was no longer true as Thackeray had rubbished him uncharitably after he was conferred the Nishan-e-Pakistan by the Pakistan government. To Dilip Kumar's credit he did not let his dignity to come in the way in the way of what could have been a slanging match. He matched the depth of his flawless articulation with poise that many in the industry today dreadfully lack.

As someone who was passionate about football, Dilip Kumar, a product of the Khalsa College, could have well donned the cap. "At times, I was more possessed as a footballer than as an actor. My outlet found it's way on the various grounds across Mumbai -- Shivaji Park mostly. I would hop out of my car and join any match in progress much to the amusement and appreciation of the participants. They would be surprised I could dribble through and pack a lethal kick. If you allow fame to get the better of you, you become nuisance, a public nuisance, a nuisance as a friend, as a member of the family, a nuisance to yourself. So I let myself go whenever I saw people playing football."

The Dilip Kumar psyche can be understood in this context. "My becoming an actor was more a twist of tale than a chosen course because I dared not to think I could ever become an actor. I couldn't even walk up on the stage and say 'Thank You' when we were to receive trophies at our sports meets at college." How he refined himself with time to deliver those weighty speeches is another story.

It is not my case here to deal with his life that is already in public domain. For that matter, I don't know if I have contributed anything new about his persona and professional life. As he is interred in the same Juhu cemetery where other icons have also been laid to rest -- Meena Kumari, Mohammed Rafi, Madhubala, Sahir Ludhianvi, Naushad, Ali Sardar Jaffri, Talat Mehmood, Jan Nisar Akhtar to name a few -- Dilip Kumar will be in the august company.

Having lived a full life of 98 years, it probably had to be his alter ego Rafi who sang this for him much before his own untimely demise in 1980. The voice and words are tailor-made for Dilip Kumar:

आज पुरानी राहों से कोई मुझे आवाज़ ना दे
दर्द में डूबे गीत ना दे, ग़म का सिसकता साज़ ना दे
बीते दिनों की याद थी जिन में, मैं वो तराने भूल चूका
आज नई मंज़िल है मेरी, कल के ठिकाने भूल चूका
ना वो दिल ना सनम, ना वो दिन धरम
अब दूर हूँ सारे गुनाहों से
टूट चुके सब प्यार के बंधन, आज कोई जंजीर नहीं
शीशा-ए-दिल में अरमानों की, आज कोई तस्वीर नहीं
अब शाद हूँ मैं, आज़ाद हूँ मैं 
कुछ काम नहीं है आहों से
पहुँचा हूँ वहाँ, नहीं दूर जहाँ 
भगवान भी मेरी निगाहों से

Raju Korti
In my 41 years as mediaperson, I have come across a category of people that has a special talent for stating the obvious. It occurs fairly equally in high and low intelligence people. Even with the specious argument that what is obvious to one may not be obvious to the other, it has the potential to make a dumbass of others. But the hilarity of not understanding what you say and believing the other people don't understand or  realize makes the irony delicious.

In 1982 I was into third year on my job and had been just elevated as the Shift In-charge of Page One. It was actually baptism by fire. From rewriting mofussil stories I was suddenly asked to do Page One on the day the union budget was presented. The stories from the wire and correspondents were coming in thick and fast. Those were the days when pages were being made manually on the Lino and the editor in-charge had to not only edit Page One stories, he also had to design the page. When I entered the newsroom around 8 pm, I saw my desk flooded with agency copies. 

Since, I knew fairly well what went into the making of the budget, I was confident of putting the edition to bed by the stipulated deadline. Before I could take my seat, a senior colleague of mine told me "Boss, aaj budget hai." I hid my sarcasm and asked him, Oh, is it? 

This colleague had a habit of reminding me the most important development of the day, especially  when I would be handling Page One. When the ethnic conflict broke out in Sri Lanka, he told me in his charitable tone "Boss, aaj Lanka ka story hai." If I had shouted "yes", I am sure LTTE chief V Prabhakaran would have heard it in Jaffna. But I let that pass.

Over a period, I acquired the reputation of a newsmaker in whose Page One shifts something shattering would invariably happen. My colleague would take a great delight in telling me what were the lead stories of the day. He sincerely believed I had zero news sense. On the night of 2-3rd December 1984, as I walked into the newsroom he sported his trademark benign smile and said "Boss, aaj Bhopal gas tragedy ki story hai." A year later, it was "Boss, aaj Indira ka assassination hua hai." 

"Boss, aaj railway accident ki story hai, Boss aaj Rajiv (Gandhi) cabinet ki story hai...." the list is countless. The only redeeming feature of these serial episodes was being addressed as "Boss" which was seemingly used out of habit. I do not recollect when this stopped but somewhere along the line, he realized I wasn't as dumb as he thought.

Stating the obvious has its own advantages. It fills up news space and talk time. Our erudite folks on the television have fine-tuned the art. "Aap ko kaisa lag raha hai?" is a universal question for all occasions and tragedies. The English version of 'stating the obvious' found a regional version in 'Zaahir si baat hai.." The obvious is consolidated by the camera which has better quality than the accompanying journalist. 

Lifestyle publications and channels have made a living out of inane questions. Food vloggers and anchors are sound so profound when they shoot questions like:Ye hotel aap ne kab se shuru kiya?

Iska matlab hai, aap ki teen peedhiyan is line me hai.

 

 

Of Imran Khan's servility and Chinese belligerence

Raju Korti

Xi addressing the Communist Party centenary.

While the Chinese President Xi Jinping has been flexing his muscles to lend a melodramatic touch to the centenary celebrations of the Communist Party and the world watching in mild amusement, he has a condescending but helpless admirer in Imran Khan. The Pakistan prime minister has justified the common Indian line Majboori ka naam Mahatma Gandhi by 'accepting' the Chinese version of how it treats ethnic Uighur Muslims. There are more than 12 million Uighurs living a lowly life in Xinjiang.

On a sticky wicket in his own country, Khan has no other option but to toe the Chinese line. It is a no brainer that he is forced to franchise what the Chinese are doing to the sizable chunk of Uighur Muslim population being subjected to ethnic cleansing in southern Xinjiang. The Amnesty International has said the Uighur Muslims whose roots are Turkish, are living in a "dystopian hellscape". So much so that while being systematically eliminated, they are not even allowed to practice Islam and speak their mother tongue. For that matter, China's utter disdain for Muslims has been well documented, but Khan doesn't bat an eyelid, incommoded  as his country is under China's obligation. China has constantly denied the allegations of genocide in Xinjiang camps where the Uighurs have been languishing. But both China and Pakistan know exactly what's happening and both are lying to their teeth.   

Khan disguises his helplessness with a political expediency that he can do nothing about. It is a measure of his crooked bent of mind that instead he chose to divert the human rights abuse issue to Pakistan's pet peeve Kashmir. In a statement clearly meant to appease the Chinese, he says, "Islamabad accepts 'Chinese version' of how it treats Uighur Muslims because of its extreme proximity and relationship with Beijing." While in the past, China has snubbed Pakistan several times on the issue of providing economic aid, it is not clear how much the latter has benefited from the arms aid.

There is not much to establish that Pakistan, partitioned on religion and now an Islamic state run on Shariah, has concern for Muslims across the world unless there is a over-riding political reason. It does not shed tears for Muslims in India as they know they are better off in India than the rickety country. As Xi spoke about the "alternative model" that has beaten all Western democracies, Khan quickly latched on to the Western media saying it was hypocritical of them to talk only about the Chinese situation. The Chinese must be chuckling that they are now licensed to intensify their state-orchestrated campaign against the Uighurs without pretensions.

In their persecution, the Uighurs suffer unlivable conditions, torture, forced sterilizations, coercive birth prevention and sexual violence inside the camps and are subjected to institutionalized enslavement. They will be wiped out sooner than later. There is no way the issue can be taken to the International Court of Justice as China does not recognize its authority or jurisdiction. China has also denied foreign observers access to Xinjiang. It has lost on Khan -- or that is what he pretends to -- China's track record of targeting Muslim religious figures and banning religious practices as well as destroying mosques and tombs. Khan chooses to ignore all this and instead says the people of China have a special place in the hearts of Pakistanis.

I do not think Pakistan can get any tangible benefits from China's status as world's largest economy with largest foreign exchanges. No country can become an ally of China. Xi's model is characterized by an authoritarian political structure and state driven capitalism. I do not find it altogether surprising that the mild demeanored Xi arrogated to himself for lifetime all the powers by usurping the Communist Party of China (CPC) and People's Liberation Army (PLA). On April 8, 2020, I wrote: "As the central figure of the fifth generation of leadership of the People's Republic, Xi has significantly centralized institutional power by taking on a wide range of leadership positions. His political thoughts have been written into the party and state constitutions and his tenure has witnessed significant increase of censorship, mass surveillance and deterioration of human rights.

The least Khan could have done was to maintain a diplomatic silence when Xi was playing to the gallery addressing a captive audience at the CPC's centenary. The resolve in (henceforth) not allowing Pakistan's soil to be used by the American troops was nowhere in evidence. Khan badly needs better political advisors but then that is a tall order given that the entire country survives and sustains only on the Kashmir obsession.

On a lighter note, Khan's (helpless) appeasement of the Chinese reminds me of a Mukesh song "Jo tumko ho pasand wohi baat karenge, tum din ko agar raat kaho raat kahenge...." It also suits his nasal tone.

Of Greek alphabets and Covid-19 mutations

Raju Korti
Greek alphabets can be fun or irritation depending on whether you like or hate Mathematics and/or Physics. My personal experience with them has been partly-exciting-partly exasperating at various levels of engagement with Science. But the World Health Organization has queered the pitch by naming the Covid-19 variants after them. It makes life that much more difficult for someone like me whose education has roots in Maths and Physics.

The virus in India's second wave

The B.1.617.1 and B.1.617.2 variants of the Covid-19 that were first identified in India have been named as "Kappa" and "Delta" by the WHO in its compassionate wisdom. This compassion is not without its undercurrents. I would love to believe that the WHO, often accused as a "stooge of China", has hit upon this mode of nomenclature as the Covid-19 was, and is, believed to have originated from that country. The WHO's specious thinking lends credence by making a concession for Chinese culpability and diverting international attention with consideration for other countries. It is like being magnanimous in sharing the loot when you are caught.

The WHO has another rationale according to which this will make it easier for people across the globe to understand which variant they are grappling with. The earlier variants sounded more like an arithmetic progression that one could not make head or tail of. The Greek alphabets have come in handy but the rate at which the parent virus is mutating, I wonder what the world health body will do in the course of time when all the alphebets would have been exhausted.

It is pertinent that the WHO's brainstorm comes weeks after India voiced displeasure at the B.1.617 mutant of the novel coronavirus being termed an Indian variant. In any case giving a nationality to the virus sounded puerile and insensitive. Showing alacrity, an expert group of the UN health agency recommended use of Alpha, Beta, Gamma which would be easier and more practical to discuss by non-scientific audiences. At the moment we are looking at the Lambda variant.

On a lighter note, I see at least eight Greek alphabets that sound like Chinese names. Mu, Nu, Xi, Pi, Rho, Tau, Phi and Chi are the ones that could be discomforting to the Chinese. The third and the last are particularly embarrassing for reasons that do not need elaboration. The Covid-19 has brought the Greek alphabets from the empyrean heights to the pedestrian terra firma. From once being names of the stars in order of their brightness, they have mutated into an infinitesimal but ominous existence. The ancient Greeks known for their contributions to modern society and widely believed to be founders of philosophy have every reason to marvel at the distance their alphabets have traveled and the wide applications they have found.

How the mighty fall!

John McAfee, Julian Assange and the Snowden Effect

Raju Korti
Former National Security Agency and data privacy votary Edward Snowden surely realizes what it means to be a whistle-blower in a country that makes regulation virtue of free speech and individual liberties.

The man at the wrong end of the thirties has been America's most consequential whistle-blowers, responsible for the most significant leaks in US political history. His exiled life is an outcome of the historically unprecedented rate at which the then Obama administration prosecuted whistle-blowers. He marches on regardless, seized very well that the US administration will attempt to use all its weight to punish him. In a tweet he had lamented that "societies that demand whistle-blowers be martyrs often find themselves without either, and always, when it matters most." 

Snowden's latest pointed tweet that WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange "could be the next" after the alleged suicide of anti-virus software mogul John McAfee in a Spain jail should be understood in this context. Known for his larger-than-life personality, McAfee of the pioneer McAfee Associates, was charged with tax evasion between 2014 and 2018 having made millions from consultancy work, cryptocurrencies and selling the rights to his life story that Hollywood seemed sold out on.

Snowden should know. Whistle-blowers are sometimes seen as selfless martyrs who stand up for public interest and organizational accountability while at the other end of the spectrum some view them as traitors or defectors accusing them of pursuing personal glory and being politically motivated. Seen as civil disobedience or protection from wrongdoing, it is fraught with risks either way.

McAfee was no whistle-blower. He called himself a libertarian and was known for his anti-government stance on guns, drugs and liberty. His tweets, often cryptic and ominous suggested that he was the target of wealthy elites, including the top ranking officials in the CIA. Paranoiac probably got to him when the Spanish court decided to extradite him to the US.

The Snowden Effect" is palpable when he says that "Europe should not extradite those accused of non-violent crimes to a court system so unfair -- and prison system so cruel --that native-born defendants would rather die than become subject to it. Julian Assange could be next. Until the system is reformed, a moratorium should remain." 

Snowden's tweet is a scathing indictment of the American administration of justice. Although his apprehensions make for a valid argument, the American Constitution with its Judiciary-is-supreme tenet makes any expectation of reform a tall order -- even if it makes some sense to provide for concessions for non-criminal cases. The American Constitution is not generously flexible like the Indian Constitution and leaves next to zero scope for amendments.

McAfee was 75 but Assange is 49 and although this is no comparison, the similarities between the two cases cannot be wished away. The highest common factor among Snowden, McAfee and Assange is the US government is out to get them. Unlike McAfee, Assange won his extradition battle but he has not been bailed because he is considered a flight risk. It sounds almost prophetic that the UK court which blocked his extradition cited that Assange's was at the risk of suicide given his mental health problems. 

His prosecution in US follows WikiLeaks publication of hundreds of thousands of leaked documents relating to his country's role in Afghanistan and Iraq wars as well as diplomatic cables, a decade back. With McAfee no more on the scene, Snowden and Assange face the prospect of spending decades behind bars in their country. That eventuality, however, is anybody's guess.

As if on premonition, McAfee had tweeted a few days before his death that "All power corrupts. Take care which powers you allow a democracy to wield." Behind that tweet is the inherent lament that in a democracy you just choose the lesser evil. The supreme irony is Snowden had to find a lesser evil in Russia in his political expediency -- other ramifications aside.

Edward Snowden is an example of his own Snowden Effect.

We did not want to win, so we lost!

Raju Korti

Pic courtesy ICC/Twitter

There is a thing called intent in Sport. It is primarily and predominantly about winning a game. Since winning or losing is a part of the game, the least teams can do is to try and make a match of it. But the way India capitulated yesterday before a resurgent Kiwis, it appeared that there was neither any intention to win nor any resolve to put up even a semblance of fight.

To all those who sat through the truncated game that saw more than half the duration of match lost to inclement weather, the Indians looked so meek and forbearing that they seemed more keen on losing than the Kiwis wanting to win. The only player who looked fierce on the field was Ravichandran Ashwin who justified his selection on a patently seaming wicket that was exploited to the hilt by the New Zealanders. The other ten just seemed to be going through motions with no sense of purpose.

To me, the single most dominant factor that divided the performance of the two teams was the quality of bowling. The Kiwi bowlers swung the ball prodigiously in perfectly seaming conditions but the Indians, for all their much crowed batting line up, seemed to have relapsed into the pre-70s era when they would invariably get out flirting with outgoing deliveries. I refuse to believe that a Test playing nation that prides on being Number One in ICC ranking can be so spunkless.

I recall what the late Ajit Wadekar, elevated as India's captain in 1971 through a casting vote, had said when the Indians were touring the mighty West Indies. Asked how his batsmen would cope with the Windies' fast bowling battery, he replied, "good batsmen are not afraid of good bowlers." His side justified that confidence. Any rationale for preparing pitches that suit the home side is a lame excuse since every hosting team does it. It is all about how well you adapt to the different conditions and pitches overseas.

Jamieson, Boult, Southee and Wagner bowled to a plan and just did not allow the Indians to free their arms. From the first day (which was actually the second) the Indians looked like they had given up. After that pathetic display in the first innings, they just didn't have the guts to fight. Indian captain Virat Kohli should take a cue or two from rival skipper Kane Williamson who looked calm, poised and self-assured. The Indian captain looks grumpy and angry most of the times when the chips are down and sports wicked smiles and gesticulations when winning. It has lost on him that a leader can be assertive and level-headed in desperate situations.

Full credit to the Kiwis who missed the last World Cup by a whisker. Having endured the understated agony of losing the World Cup, they had a point to prove and they did just that. The Indians just made it easier for them. How the Kiwis rid their ghosts of the World Cup semis and finals; shrugging off the disappointment that permeated their side in destiny's sweepstakes! Remember how the same Kane Williamson glided through the blues of that dramatic superover with the customary elan that he is come to be known for. Our man just huffs and puffs in crises.

That brings me to the post-match comments that Kohli made where he indicated "he might bring in right people with right mindset to perform" in the Test side just like their white ball set-up where they have multiple players ready to shoulder responsibility at the highest level. That's a rash comment because he obviously doesn't realize its implications. Does he mean that the present team with him as the presiding deity doesn't have that right mindset? Or is he casting aspersions on the judgement of the selectors who are "supposed to select the best playing eleven"? For that matter, does he think his team members are not right? By referring to "multiple players ready to shoulder responsibility at the highest level" he is also making a mockery of India's much tom tommed bench strength of batsmen and bowlers. In his complacency and assured place in the side, he has trashed his own team members without realising that this shit will hit the fan sooner than later. The message from Kohli is loud and clear: If at all any heads have to roll in the aftermath of this wretched defeat, it won't be his. 

As an aside, in the interests of positivity, this blog deserves the picture of New Zealanders in celebration not the beaten Indians. Sporting spirit should make us applaud the Blackcaps who finally got there and deservingly so. They were led by Kane who is also Able. 

A figure of speech called "father figure"

Raju Korti
As someone who has been a "father figure" to many youngsters, I have always believed that it takes a strong man to accept somebody else's children and step up to the plate another man left on the table. The conviction probably also stems from the fact that I am not a biological parent. Being a teacher to grown up students and youngsters in my chosen profession, I know the trappings well.

It is Father's Day today and as it happens year after year, there seems to be a knock-out being played on whose dad is the best (in the world). In the tie-breaker all fathers are winners hands down. The concept that fathers are born and not made puts "father figures" like me at a permanent disadvantage. The father figure is rolled gold to a father's pure gold.

In my three decades of teaching and four decades of being a professional, I have been addressed as a father figure by many. Some of them said it formally while with some it appeared in their demeanor. But I took a backseat as they they latched on to their biological fathers whenever it came to be vocal. The "father figure" was always the unsung hero. Blood is thicker than water and tokenism has a higher brand equity. There is just an academic quotient to being a father figure.

Go to an Archie's Gallery! You won't find cards thanking father figures. Why sell duplicates when there is an original? This may sound like a harangue but the fact is "father figures" are one time passwords that become invalid upon use. Consumerism looks at sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers, not their in-law or surrogate versions. As "father figure" my only proud possessions are two scrappy "Thank You" cards. The spoken "Thank Yous" have had even shorter life. Speaks volumes about the influence of varnished fathers of whom I am a glowing example.

I have been caring, supportive, kind, helpful, generous but as a "father figure" I am just a figure of speech. As I wrote a little while ago: Fathers take away all the credits and accolades as they should. Father figures are laid by the wayside.