Essaying a "NO"

Raju Korti
There is more "No" in no than there is "Yes" in yes. If that confounds or befuddles you, let me lean on Sigmund Freud according to whom a denial or abnegation is a sort of psychological defense mechanism in which a person is faced with a fact that is too uncomfortable to accept and rejects it instead, insisting that it is not true despite what may be overwhelming evidence.
Let me demystify. Ajmal Kasab denied he carried out terror attacks, Shahrukh Khan denied he misbehaved at Wankhede Stadium, Chidambaram and A Raja denied their roles in 2G scam, the Army denied it planned to take over the country, Kripa Shankar Singh denied he made ill-gotten money, Bill Clinton denied he had a fling with a White House intern, Manmohan Singh denied any wrongdoings by his goverment, Dawood Ibrahim denied he runs a betting syndicate, "Hindu Dons" Chhota Rajan and Arun Gawli denied they were running extortion rackets, Barkha Dutt denied she had anything to do with Radiagate, BCCI President N Srinivasan denied any role in fixing and what have you. If you thought denials were an individual thing, there is Pakistan which as a nation lives in a state of perpetual denial. The list is illustrious and unending.
There is something very emphatic and decisive about a denial than in an acquiescence. Clinically, denials may have their darker and brighter sides but staying in denial can tinker with you ability to tackle challenges.
As someone who has spent over three decades in journalism, I can vouch for the importance (or not!) of a denial. Everyday, newspapers and TV channels are inundated by any number of press releases where someone or the other keeps denying something or the other. But by far the most bizarre one that I experienced came from a murder convict who shot off a handout to all local newspapers, denying he had committed the crime. Probably his conscience was guided by the philosophy that a good denial is the best point in law and its power can never be under-rated.
Let me not paint a "no" with a black brush. Psychologists have written article galore on how respecting your own boundaries lies in a conscientious "no". Half the troubles of life can be traced to saying yes too quickly and not saying no soon enough. Tactically and otherwise!
So today I invite you to join me in remembering it’s OK to say no, and our world won’t fall apart because of it.

Its OK to say no if you don’t feel moved by an opportunity -- no matter how exciting it might sound to someone else. Happiness is a choice, but it’s made up of lots of smaller choices we need to make based on what we actually want.
It’s OK to say no if you’d rather relax than go out -- no matter how many other people think you should be social. Only we know when we need to recharge and take care of ourselves, so it’s up to us to recognize and honor that.
It’s OK to say no if you’d need to sacrifice your needs to help someone else -- even if a part of you feels a little guilty about it. People are always going to have requests. Sometimes we’ll be able to help; sometimes we won’t. We’re still good people regardless.
It’s OK to say no because you don’t have time -- even if you don’t know right in this moment when you’ll be more available. We’re allowed to say no without hinting toward a future yes.
It’s OK to say no without a detailed excuse -- even if you feel like you should offer one. “This doesn’t feel right for me right now” is a perfectly valid reason.
Lastly, it’s OK to say no even if you’ve already said yes, if you realize you weren’t being true to yourself. It’s far better to make the right decision late than follow through with the wrong one because you think you should.
A civil "no" is much better than a rude grant.

The "Red" Alert!

Raju Korti

Having covered Naxals and Naxalism extensively for well over two decades between 1979 and 1999 as a professional journalist has proffered its own advantages. I recall vividly doing a story for The Hindu's Frontline magazine in which I had pointed out how the Marxist-Leninist "ideological" movement -- that originated  from West Bengal's Naxalbari and later flourished on the borders of Maharashtra, Madhya Pradeh, Andhra Pradesh and Orissa -- had degenerated into plain brigandry by mid-80s. With the death of Kondapalli Seetharamiah of the People's War Group, easily their most influential ideologue around the time, the movement had started lapsing into mindless violence in the name of protecting hapless tribals and the poor. Scouring the labyrinthine and unpredictable jungles of the Naxal-infested areas of Maharashtra and Madhya Pradesh, I realised that the much vaunted claim of the Maoists to protect the poor, have-not tribals from exploitation by the haves wasn't on a sound footing. The simple reason was if the government succeeded in their proverty alleviation programmes and development came the tribals' way, the Naxals would have no plank and would be rendered redundant. Of course, their case was helped by most governmental schemes for the uplift and development of tribals being brought to a nought by corrupt officials, unscrupulous landlords and overzealous police.
Ironically, the appreciation for the article came from those assigned the task of spreading Maoist influence in urban areas and running its propaganda wing -- Kobad Ghandy and his wife Anuradha Shanbhag Ghandy. I found Kobad and his Sociology professor wife too soft-spoken and well read to be involved in a violent movement. Of course, at the time, I had little inkling that Kobad, who was a Special Correspondent with  The Sunday Observer was the founding member of Committee for the Protection of Democratic Rights. He was also believed to be in touch with global ultra-Left organisations. Taking into consideration his ability to analyse the national and international developments, he was also entrusted with the job of building up the Naxal movement in urban areas. Which is how he was finally arrested from Delhi sometime in 2009.
Tall and decently dressed, the fair and bespectacled Kobad was very articulate. His voice hardly rose beyond a whisper. His wife was, however, more vocal.
Though the violent Naxalite movement began in Maharashtra in Gadchiroli division abutting Andhra Pradesh three decades ago, it had failed to spread to other areas. In Kerala too the Naxalites had failed to make much of an impact. Karnataka, where the movement was relatively strong just a decade ago, had seen a split in the rank and file of Maoists after a section of leaders leaders questioned the very principle of area- wise seizure of power starting from forest areas. Ever since the split, the Maoist party failed to strike roots in the state and Kobad was drafted for bringing about a rapproachment.
Interestingly, the Ghandys never discussed Maoism. Each time we met, the talks would centre around journalism. I would often wonder why Anuradha never came to journalism as she would speak very animatedly about things like news selection, headlines, display, layouts and story-writing. Having seen the way she wrote and her understanding of various issues, I had no doubts she would have made a great journalist. But the slim and good-looking Anuradha would laugh it off whenever I suggested her to take up the profession. "You know Raju, I have this activist's mindset, and with Kobad, I have decided to spend my life for the cause of poor tribals in the jungles of Chandrapur, Bhamragarh, Aalapalli, Gadchiroli," she would announce, an air of vehemence in her voice.
It wasn't long before I discovered that the couple had links with the Committee for Protection of Democratic Rights. A junior colleague brought to my notice that the CPDR and other Naxal front outfit hand-outs were usually delivered by Anuradha. Quizzed, she made absolutely no secret of her and her husband's Maoist affililiations and I found it hard to believe that they were connected with such a violent movement, ideology and justifications kept by the side.
One day both vanished and for a long time there were only speculations about their whereabouts. In any case, both never lived like conventional husband and wife and seemed more like a team dedicated to a cause. Their's was a marriage of ideas. The last I heard about Anuradha was she died of cerebral malaria in the jungles of Dandakaranya in central India sometime in 2002. I felt a twinge of sympathy for her, but she had opted for that life of her own volition.
My brief but meaningful interaction with the Ghandys vindicated the focus of my story that the Naxal movement had shed its original credo and was meandering into a cult of needless bloodshed. At the other end of the spectrum, I had seen the PWG leader Seetharamiah whose charisma and knowledge had the potential to turn a right winger into Leftist in no time.
Naxalism has undergone a paradigm shift in the last 15 years. The movement, one-stitch-social-one-stich blood is now mired in the kind of violence that you cannot distinguish from the one unleashed by the terrorists in the name of religion. Both have cadres committed to destabilization of state without any pretensions to meaningful dialogue across the table. And both, potential threats.
   



  

Paisa feko tamasha dekho...

Raju Korti

Before I indulge in my routine exercise of unleashing a harangue on you, I must make a honest confession. I am one of those countless millions who stick around in front of the TV to watch the jamboree called Indian Premier League, which can be more aptly described as the International Paisa League. However, my affectation happens by sheer default as I have precious little to do otherwise and because no other entertainment perhaps comes more cheaper.
As a humble man who contributes to the IPL exchequer and the bloating pockets of our pampered cricketers, I have few equally humble suggestions to the IPL think thank. That is, of course, believing that some thinking goes into this hoopla. Here are my two cents that will probably add up to nothing.

FOR THE COMMENTATORS

1) Don't qualify every streaky shot that runs to the boundary with a tired and jaded "Doesn't matter how they come as long as they come". Think of some other phrase. English is expansive enough to offer you different fares.
2) For heaven's sake avoid comments like "1999 runs in IPL. He needs just one run to reach 2000." That undermines our common sense and knowledge of Maths.
3) Please find alternate adjectives for every hike over the boundary. We have had enough of "Fantastic"  and "Stunning".
4) Do not waste steam on describing field positions and the scores. The TV screen does it for you and the viewers watch with their eyes.
5) The excitement and noise is already in the air. So don't scream when every wicket falls or a ball is hit. Reserve those decibels for more fitting occasions.
6) We do not have to be experts in human psychology to know that no batsman is happy when he is out LBW or no bowler is happy when a catch is put down off his bowling. By now we have learnt it by heart: "He will be so disappointed".
7) Get rid of fluff like "He can bat a fair bit/hit a long distance, very exciting to watch" or "its a youngsters game but the veterans have proved better" and stuff like that. Cliches aren't fun at all.

FOR THE ANCHORS
1) You are supposed to ask questions, not make statements. "You played well today", "The wicket was good and the ball came onto the bat" and "You will be happy/disappointed with your performance" are not questions.
2) Don't ask leading and obvious questions like "What went wrong?" or "How does it feel to get your first five-wicket haul?". The viewer already knows the answers.
3) Spare us of the antics like jigs, waltzs and dancing. Leave it to the cheerleaders who are in any case paid to do that. Also save us from those weird expressions even if it is something as inane and mindless as "Jhamping jhamping jhapang Gili Gili Ye.". The relentless bombarding of this atrocity is traumatising enough.
4) Do not treat us to excess dosages of wise-cracking. Your comments are mortifying enough.

FOR THE PLAYERS
1) Find better expressions. Kicking the air, jumping and pumping muscles do not excite any more.
2) Sledging, swearing, glaring and mouthing expletives is passe and boring. You have the bat and ball to show your mettle. You don't have to be so melodaramtically polite either when you get words of praise or an award. It sounds terribly corny when you are praising a rival whom you had sledged barely a while ago. The "heat of the moment" act doesn't impress, doesn't convince.

FOR THE ORGANISERS
1) Rewards are fine but paying Rs 1 lakh for a six or a catch is a bit too tough on our poor sensitivities. By now we know the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) has earned the sobriquet of being Mr Moneybags and can loosen its purse-strings for even the minorest achievement.
2) Get hold of a more sensible outfit to train the cheerleaders. The bum-shaking act has gone bust.
3) Remind the players every now and then that they are hero-worshipped and elevated at the cost of we poor, doting fans. Make sure they don't lose sight of the fact that they have a head on their shoulders and that it does not get bloated with reasons other than cricket.

NOW FOR THE GROUND REALITY
This blog is going to be such a waste (of time). The International Paisa League doesn't ride on people's perception but their money. So in this IPL Season 6, let's keep braving "Jhamping jhamping jhapang Gili Gili Ye" and laugh it off.

From Pee-wish to Penance!

Raju Korti
By the time this blog surfaces on my Facebook wall, Maharashtra's honourable Deputy Chief Minister Ajitdada Pawar -- Sharad Pawar's gift to this "progressive state" -- will have, by his own pious and sacred considerations, flushed clean his sin of rubbing salt on the bleeding farmers of the state.
At a function at Indapur near Pune, the ever so irascible Pawar had said with his characteristic brusque "Paanich naahi tar mutayche kay?" (If there is no water in the dam ... Should we urinate into it?) even as the farmers already up to their neck in debt, heard the tactless remark in utter disbelief. As it would, it pissed off a state reeling under a severe drought. Political and media pressure forced him to tender an apology which he qualified with with a statement to the effect that it was an off-the-cuff comment and the biggest mistake of his life.

From whatever little I have seen and known about the man who comes from the prosperous sugarcane belt of western Maharashtra, atonement and penance are alien to his ethos. In the "who cares" corridors of Mantralaya, Pawar has acquired quite a reputation for his boorish and rude behaviour. It pales in comparison his dismal performance as the Irrigation Minister.
Ajitdada's arrogance stems out of the complacency that most political leaders derive out of financial and muscle power. Unfortunately, as a protégé of his wily uncle, Ajitdada hasn't learnt any lessons in sensitivity that his party spokesperson Nawab Malik wants to attribute him to.
Given his penchant to rub people the wrong way and often getting away with it, it probably didn't occur to Ajitdada's unceremonious gall that this time he was carrying the burden of his full bladder a bit too far. Worse still, he unleashed it on a hapless community which is presided over by his own uncle Sharad Pawar in his capacity as the country's Agriculture Minister .
Nothing puts the fear of God in a politician more than loss of face and chair. With the precipitous dung catching up with him, Ajitdada's conscience has suddenly woken up and now he has scrambled to the memorial of Yashwantrao Chavan in Karad for what he calls a "penance". Instead of apologising to the farmers at whose miserable expense he made that mindless speech, Ajitdada has in his belated wisdom chosen to say sorry to his mentor's mentor than to resign. Having had resigned earlier and reinstated again in the wake of the Rs 27,000 crore irrigation scam, Ajitdada knows that public memory is short.
Ajitdada's apology is a sham and his so called "penance" even a bigger one though he denies it as a publicity stunt. Doting uncle Sharad Pawar has already described his remarks with a mild "inappropriate".
It is likely the din will die down in the exchanges between the Opposition and the NCP as also between the  Cong-NCP, but hunger for power will allow the coalition to keep term(s). And men like Ajitdada will continue to not only survive, but also thrive through more controversies.
Watch out for the denouement in the third and last act of this high-voltage drama.  Everything will be forgotten and forgiven and the nephew will be back with a clean slate.  

Will this be the General's last salute?

Raju Korti

For his sheer propensity for the holier than thou, one needs to hand it to former president and general Pervez Musharraf. If you ignored the man's chameleonic character, Musharraf, who fled Pakistan to return after four years of "self imposed exile", has proclaimed with his usual bluster that "I am among those people who think of the country and the citizens." His precise timing to return to his troubled homeland shows just that, albeit in a contradictory manner.
Having seized power in a bloodless coup in 1999, Musharraf knows he is In The Line of Fire, to quote the name of his book. Ironically, Musharraf authored the paens to himself in the book when he was putting all parliamentary, judicial and democratic institutions in the firing line even when his crooked mind plotted the misadventure in Kargil without the knowledge of his prime minister Nawaz Sharif.
Like all politicians, he nursed grandiose ideas of his popularity by holding a rigged and bogus referendum to endorse himself as the President. Dictators across the world are not known to have survived their whimsical rule for long and Musharraf was no exception, though he did a shade better than many others. Obviously buoyed by the track record of the military rulers of the likes of the stupid Ayub Khan and the sinister Zia ul Haq, Musharraf survived for mainly two reasons: His carefully cultivated image as a suave and modern leader who wanted to bring his nation out of the fundamental morass even while egging the religious extremism against India and the United States. He found a convenient ally in the Americans, both thriving on political double standards. But two-timing never pays and he had to pay for this double cross, having to play along with the Americans in the war in Afghanistan. On the flip side, he harnessed the mushrooming militant groups waiting to strike against India.
Musharraf who never hid his admiration of Kamal Ataturk, used his devious mind to attack Kargil much against the wishes of his senior civilian and military officials. But the hush hush plan to infiltrate Kashmiri forces came a cropper after a heightened international pressure forced Sharif to withdraw the insurgents. It was here that the seeds of Musharraf-Sharif dispute were sown in. For the wily general, this was an intolerable snub, having had got rid of Benazir Bhutto, herself brought up on the hate politics of her more malicious father Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto.
Without bothering to go into the history that led to the ouster of Nawaz Sharif and the subsequent series of events, Musharraf finally miscalculated the consequences of holding elections. When you live in your ivory towers, you lose connect with people. Musharraf fell in the same pit he had dug up for the Opposition which was itching to settle scores with him. Besides Pakistan's people, always caught between the military and civilian crossfire, didn't want the man to foist himself any more. His image brutalized, he fell dramatically and mass movements bayed for his impeachment. True to his character, he called his four-year stray in London as "self imposed exile" and mobilized a party of his own to run for the National Assembly.
The General may have heralded his return to tumultuous Pakistan with a lot a of stage-managed fanfare, but the roadmap from here is anything but easy. He is already a marked man, targeted by Taliban and the present military establishment. Democratic dispensations are wary of him, given his past record at treachery and political somersaults.
Behind the army demeanor, there lurks a hard-core politician. Aware of the rebuffs that dot his path, he has already met with a few. His nomination papers were rejected for his acts of "reason and corruption", a clause Indian electoral system could well draw from. But howsoever Musharraf wants to propagandize his love for Pakistan, no one is hoodwinked into believing that and the man has landed back on his home soil because he hardly had any option. He is obviously trying to make a virtue of his compulsion.
There are a string of cases lined up against him. Having trampled all institutions during his cleverly manipulative regime, he is everybody's burden. Elevating such a man at the helm again is fraught with the consequences Pakistani people may not try to experiment with.
Take it. This is a do-or-die battle for Musharraf. He will be consigned to the dustbin of history if his outfit fails to come to power. But so mercurial is the country's political health and so helpless are the people that it is dicey to predict electoral outcomes there. In any case, civilian governments are run like puppets by the Army which is also rife with dissensions. If not anything, the courts will play activists, which miffed Musharraf when he was all-in-all.
There is, of course, this one in hundred chance that the man might return to craft his fledgling country. No one knows better than Musharraf that anything is possible in his country where ferment is the order of the day.
Welcome to Pakistan where only the most insidious survive.

Dutt's the way cookie crumbles.

Raju Korti

There is an element of sardonic humour in the groundswell of support that actor Sanjay Dutt has been receiving from not only his film fraternity but also from related quarters. Its not as much about the gravity of the case 'Khalnayak' Sanjubaba was involved in but how suddenly some people are discovering that the enfant terrible of Bollywood has become an acknowledged Gandhian after being bailed out in the Mumbai blasts case.
The film industry, which is punctuated by self-righteous and we-can-do-no-wrong of the Mahesh Bhatt types, has turned into a Theatre of the Absurd with Sanjubaba as the "character" actor. For that matter, the Bollywood has always behaved like an autonomous, constitutional authority immune from all liabilities. It is as if none of its players can be ever blamed for any sins of commisions or omissions. Deeply divided in their cliques inside their brotherhood, it is amazing how their ill-conceived minds become one in crunch situations. And that also goes for their clan decorating the political parties across the spectrum.
So it was hilarious to hear Samajwadi Party MP Jaya Prada set the tone saying "Knowingly or unknowingly, it has been written in his (Sanjay's) fate that he must go on suffering like this." Of course, you don't have to be a soothsayer to know whoever joins the ranks of terrorists and has the stupidity to keep toys like AK 56, pistols, cartridges and other assorted weapons -- "for self defence" -- travels one-way behind the bars. But Sanjubaba is one of a kind and can't be bracketed with other goons and crooks who keep weapons illegally.
Sanjay's sister Priya Dutt, a Congress MP herself, broke down when her well-meaning brother was handed down the reduced sentence and thereafter stories about the actor's largesse and good deeds started flying thick and fast like an orchestrated chorus. The express speed at which the film industry's learned luminaries appeared on TV debate shows and spouted their harebrained arguments in Sanjay's support could have been the script of a pulp film. Hearing them sing paens to Sanjubaba, you couldn't be blamed if you thought another Gandhi wasn't already born.
And then there are usual suspects like Digvijay Singh who have a verdict on everything under the Sun. All have declared, and in equivocal terms, that Sanjay is not a terrorist, that whatever he did was out of child-like innocence, for the betterment of the society and his hobnobbing with the terrorist elements was out of pure fun. In case you didn't know, Sanjubaba was a disciplined, studious child who did drugs just to find out how they tasted. That his father, the stern and punishing Sunil Dutt, did everything with his means to get him back on rails, was just a little kink in the tale.
I recall how Sunil Dutt once spoke to me about his errant son and was almost in tears while narrating how he staked his goodwill and reputation to get his strayed and erratic son back on the tracks, and generally, how the family suffered in the process. On the other side of the story, a senior journalist friend also told me some spell binding stories of how the dad would bash up Sanjubaba -- at times with a belt -- for not falling in line. He claimed the son showed welts and scars on his ankles and thighs after he was beaten mercilessly, all in the fond hope that he would reform. But at that juncture, Sanjubaba was beyond redemption and repair. It took something as serious as the blasts case to shook him out of his complacent stupor.
And this is what the retired judge of the Supreme Court, Justice Markandey Katju, who we now have the mortification of seeing as the Chairman of the toothless Press Council of India, wants to have us believe. According to Katju, Sanjay is not a terrorist, has already gone through hell, has children and has played a great role (!) in spreading Gandhian values.
Feel sorry for Sanjubaba. Neither Katju is now on the Supreme Court bench nor is Bal Thackeray alive to get him out of trouble. Maybe just as well! Even Satish Mane-Shinde, the actor's lawyer was guarded in his remarks and didn't go beyond the regulation comment on the apex court verdict, but parallel courts and their self-appointed judges are waxing eloquent on how Sanjubaba deserves a reprieve even if it means sending grossly pervert signals to the people of this country. Hopefully, the gubernatorial office, despite the powers vested in it, will not be led by politically specious arguments from vested interests and make a mockery of the highest court of the land. It will do well to remember that while commuting Sanjay's sentence, the court had clearly said Sanjay's crime was extremely serious. He had no justification to keep those weapons and when it boomeranged on him, tried to destroy evidence. No one does that out of innocence which Katju wants to thrust on Sanjubaba.
Katju is now trying to convince us 98% idiots that he is a humanitarian and has already dashed off a letter to the Governor to use his discretionary powers and pardon Sanjubaba. His action has found great support from sopokesman-turned I&B Minister Manish Tiwari. In his profound wisdom, Tiwari says: "Justice Katju has been a very eminent judge of the Supreme Court. Whenever he articulates a position on an issue, people both inside and outside the government listen to it carefully."
If you ask me, I feel sorry only for Manyata Dutt, Sanjubaba's second wife. For her, it is:
Mere saajan hai us paar, mai man maar....

At Home? Or away from it?

Raju Korti

Take a despairing look at the man in the picture. That is exactly not the expression a union home minister of a terror-stricken country should sport on his face. And when you know the face belongs to the Congress old guard Sushilkumar Shinde, you also know the trade-mark fixed smile has slipped ever since he has been handed over the reins of the all important portfolio of home ministry by a prime minister who apparently knows everything but never makes it known to people.
Let me not get you into a maze. My interaction with Shinde is nothing to rave about. I had a brief interaction with him during his tenure as  Maharashtra's Chief Minister in 2003 when as an accreditated journalist I would go to the Mantralaya more to share tea with fellow scribes than out of any political interest. At a press conference, I told him that I also had some roots in Solapur from where he too hailed. He gave me that condescending, patronising smile that politicians usually reserve for their constituency. Co-incidentally, it was at Solapur that I bumped into him again since our residences are in the immediate neighbourhood. He stood outside the gate of his house, sharing small talk with a few party workers. As I happened to pass along, he spotted me and lo! That smile was back. I smiled back in the surprise that he recognised me. He gestured to me that we could meet later, but the occasion never happened. Thereafter, I saw him only in newspapers and TV channels, and mostly for wrong reasons. But you didn't need political punditry to diagnose that he, like many politicians in this country, was suffering from a terminal foot-in-the-mouth syndrome.
The trigger for writing this blog, however, dates back to a function sometime in 1982 when Shinde was in Nagpur to unveil the statue of (Swatantryaveer) Vinayak Damodar Sawarkar where as a Congress functionary and a union minister, he raised the hackles of his party by speaking words of appreciation for  Sawarkar's role in the freedom struggle.
The Congress couldn't fathom in hell what prompted Shinde to attend the function when it was all so evident that RSS had organised and sponsored it. But the party that should be duly credited for making sycophancy a national virtue, pardoned Shinde's indiscretion. Loyalty to Gandhi family is a primary qualification in Congress. Add a Dalit face to it and the party treats you with kid gloves. The din against Shinde died down after a regulation show-cause notice. The smile remained very much in place.
Thirty years later, Shinde keeps giving ample evidence that nothing has changed really. Now that should be a bit surprising since you would like to believe that someone armed with an experience as CID sub inspector of police coupled with a long political career might have prepared him for the home ministry. Obviously, Home is not where his heart and mind is.
You need to spare Shinde for all the stock cliches that he delivers as a politician and minister since it is a malaise that cuts across most others of his ilk. What befuddles is why does he have to cut a sorry figure by making statements that put him to ridicule. If only he were to take a leaf out of his prime minister's closed book, he would know what not to speak than what to speak. On the day terror scooted to Hyderabad, he said "We knew attacks were going to happen, but not when exactly." Blame it on the terrorists who should have sent him an official communique on the Indian Mujahideen letterhead on the time and date of the attack.
Barely a week earlier, he reneged on what he had claimed at the Chintan Shibir of the Congress on the existence of so called saffron terror outfits. He "regretted" his remarks that led to a puerile semantic debate whether a regret amounted to an apology.
Shinde opened his account as the home minister by displaying the humorous streak in him. At a function in Pune, he said casually that "Like the Bofors scam, the Coalgate scam will also be forgotten." When the Media and the Opposition questioned the wisdom behind that remark, Shinde made light of the controversy by saying "I had gone to attend the felicitation ceremony of a former schoolmate. He did not make anyone laugh so I thought let me add some humour to the function." Of course, no one found it funny at all.
As Power Minister, he raised the collective eyebrows of the country by seeing nothing unusual when the whole of the North grid had collapsed even as the bureaucrats in his department were attributing it to severe power shortage.
I hope to catch up with the minister when I plan to visit his home town next month end. I have little doubts the meeting will be laced with humour potent enough to rupture intestines. I also intend to give him a few cassettes of old film songs of which he is known to be a abiding connoieseur.
Meanwhile, you keep enjoying his brand of humour. And if you happen to catch Raj Thackeray mimicking him in his speeches, ignore it as a bad joke. Raj looks contrived, Shinde is a natural.