There are times when I question the very right to education, whether it should be a right at all and be extended to everyone, or whether it should be treated like the privilege it is at its core and restricted to only those who prove, really prove, that they deserve it. Or maybe, it's none of these things, it's just that current teaching methods and textbooks of the world need an overhaul.
This post is prompted by the gems I read recently from the History of World Civilizations. In this post, I have made some amends.
Q. Who as Prophet Mohammad?
A. Before Islamism entered Arabia, Arabs were Hindus and Confucius.
The Profit Mohammed was a cool guy. (And he was profitable to have, which made him even cooler.) Islam was made up by combining ideas of Christianity and Muslimism. (This might be my absolute favorite.) Mohammad was the prophet of both the Muslims and the Islamics.
Q. Who was the Buddha?
A. Buddha's real name was Gandhi. (And he attacked the British in 400 BC by flinging chants at them.)
A. Buddhism involves worshiping The Bud. (How much of The Weed are you on, my friend?)
A. Buddha is the one who prays to the Buddah. (I loved this. Very existential.)
A. The Buddha is always in agreement with Allah. (Well, yes, in a matter of speaking.)
A. Buddha is basically THE GOD of the Hindu religion. (AMEN.)
A. The Buddha is not a person, it is a way of life. (Deep. Very deep.)
A. You can become the Buddah once you see everything. (I agree.)
Q. Who are Shias?
A. Shias and Sunnis differ on the issue of who should succeed Brahmid. (I had to call a friend after this one.)
A. Shias are Islamics who believe government officials should be elected.
A. Shias can be gods and goddesses. (I like that there is no curb on their freedom of choice.)
A. Shias are nomadic people who do agriculture. (And Sunnis neither like to travel nor grow produce.)
A. Shias believe you need to keep moving constantly to pray to god because god is everywhere. (I am mildly disturbed at the thought of Shias being restless, little children.)
A. Shias are Muslims who believe that Buddhist leaders should be descendants of Buddha and Ali. (I appreciate that Shias should care so much about Buddhist leadership. This is tolerance at its best.)
A. Shias are middle-eastern people who are actually Christians. (Yes. Deep, very deep inside their souls.)
A. Shias feel differently about Hinduism. (Oh no! Why? That is so sad.)
Q. Was a conflict between the Romans and Jesus inevitable?
A. Yes, they both had strong feelings. (Yes. But about what? Hmm...mysterious. Very mysterious.)
A. Yes, because Jesus taught Jewish stuffs and Romans were Roman Catholic.
A. Yes because Jesus being around got people to get excited but that doesn't exactly means the man should have to get nailed to a cross and sufficate. (Don't you love the image of Jesus running around getting people excited randomly?)
A. Yes, because Jesus flipped over tables in a temple and lost his temper. This got him noticed.
A. Yes, because Jesus had too many opinions.
A. Yes, because Jesus kept getting elected as the King of Jews. (Oh, those Jews and their democracy!)
A. Jesus got into conflict with the Roman Empire because he didn't like their churches. (No, he didn't think they were pretty enough.)
Q. Name 6 countries of Southeast Asia.
A. Asia, Islam and China.
A. Mecca, Medina, Cairo.
A. Greece, Iraq and Iran. (Yes, because they are all right next to each other.)
A. There are no countries here. It is just a chain of 20,000 islands. (All of which were waiting patiently for Columbus' arrival.)
A. Sicily, etc. (I rest my case.)
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Our Schools, Their Schools
Teachers are always Ma’am(s) and Sir(s)
Teachers addressed by name
Text books with lengthy paragraphs
Text books with pictures, back to being twelve
Multimedia teaching is a rarity
Multimedia teaching is a way of life, god bless youtube
High propensity to cheat
Even higher potential of academic honesty
Good grades should be announced to all, Pappu pass ho gaya
Grades are a private matter
Parents aware of child’s performance throughout education cycle
Invasion of privacy if parents want to know their 18-year old’s scores
The same teachers and methods continue unthreatened forever
Anonymous appraisals by students, you know exactly why you’re liked or not
Office hours may or may not be held, teacher’s whim can’t be questioned
Too many office hour misses and someone’s bound to notice
Far, far more serious and hardworking
Life’s a peach, it’s mine for plucking.
Teachers addressed by name
Text books with lengthy paragraphs
Text books with pictures, back to being twelve
Multimedia teaching is a rarity
Multimedia teaching is a way of life, god bless youtube
High propensity to cheat
Even higher potential of academic honesty
Good grades should be announced to all, Pappu pass ho gaya
Grades are a private matter
Parents aware of child’s performance throughout education cycle
Invasion of privacy if parents want to know their 18-year old’s scores
The same teachers and methods continue unthreatened forever
Anonymous appraisals by students, you know exactly why you’re liked or not
Office hours may or may not be held, teacher’s whim can’t be questioned
Too many office hour misses and someone’s bound to notice
Far, far more serious and hardworking
Life’s a peach, it’s mine for plucking.
She Asked For It
It's interesting that Nasreen, has no actual word to denote girlhood. The word for childhood is chhelebela, or boyhood. So no matter whether you are a girl or a boy, your experience of childhood cannot be the uni-gender "childhood." It has to be "boyhood." So in naming her memoir, Nasreen actually made up a new word.
But a common language is all that we share. Nasreen did not grow up in a prejudice-free family.
In her memoir, she candidly talks about all the times when if female children were born to any family, the parents openly wailed. Or they sent their girls to schools for a limited number of years, if at all, simply because in their point of view, women didn't require higher education. Just as they didn't need to learn how to climb trees, fly kites, run in the fields, or read for pleasure.
At present, several of Nasreen's books are banned in her own country. But her citizenship was canceled and she became a political refugee post the publication of her notorious book titled Lajja, a novel that didn't portray her countrymen in an appropriate light.
As someone trying to write something worthwhile, I feel deep compassion for Nasreen. She hasn't been to her motherland in years because there is a price on her head over there. She splits her time between Europe and India and in spite of her scores of awards, bold words, intriguing stories, and obvious love for the land she grew up in, she is not welcome in her own home. There could be few things more tragic than that.
But then, like most women in most parts of the world, Nasreen got this treatment because "she asked for it," didn't she?
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Scars
Dear Mr. Rishi Kapoor
Hello Sir! How are you doing? Long time no see. Or am I to really count your appearance on Thoda Pyar Thoda Magic? Where you yourself looked extremely uncomfortable as God. But then again not as uncomfortable as Mr. Bachchan in God Tussi Great Ho. Coming back to TPTM, just one question sir, what the hell were you thinking? Playing mentor to Rani Mukherji's less than convincing angel act must have been traumatic. My sympathies.
But speaking of trauma, Sir, what is this I hear about an upcoming movie called Karzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz? I understand that remakes must state everything with more eloquence, but this is still way too drawn out. Even if I could forgive the spelling, how, how, how could you let Himesh be the one in charge of the role you played once? Remember that year? 1980? I actually don't, having been just born. But you were a strapping young man who played Monty to perfection. Just your enthusiasm, screen presence, youthful good looks were enough to make a movie on reincarnation and revenge entertaining beyond belief. And then there was the fine music of course. No, I am not even going into the discussion of how "original" the tracks were. I am only harping on the fact that your Karz was part of a wonderful childhood, and I am angry that the memory of that is going to be decimated and then pulverized in less than a month's time.
Please Sir, I don't care what you need to do. Go on a hunger strike, weep tears of blood, do another badly written role of God, but whatever it is, please try and stop this film from ever getting released. Or even if it must be released, let it only tour Mumbai. Let it not embarrass the rest of the country or the world.
Alright Sir, be good. I shall keep you in my prayers.
Sincerely,
The One Who Saw the Trailer of Karzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz for the First Time Today and is Scarred Forever.
Hello Sir! How are you doing? Long time no see. Or am I to really count your appearance on Thoda Pyar Thoda Magic? Where you yourself looked extremely uncomfortable as God. But then again not as uncomfortable as Mr. Bachchan in God Tussi Great Ho. Coming back to TPTM, just one question sir, what the hell were you thinking? Playing mentor to Rani Mukherji's less than convincing angel act must have been traumatic. My sympathies.
But speaking of trauma, Sir, what is this I hear about an upcoming movie called Karzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz? I understand that remakes must state everything with more eloquence, but this is still way too drawn out. Even if I could forgive the spelling, how, how, how could you let Himesh be the one in charge of the role you played once? Remember that year? 1980? I actually don't, having been just born. But you were a strapping young man who played Monty to perfection. Just your enthusiasm, screen presence, youthful good looks were enough to make a movie on reincarnation and revenge entertaining beyond belief. And then there was the fine music of course. No, I am not even going into the discussion of how "original" the tracks were. I am only harping on the fact that your Karz was part of a wonderful childhood, and I am angry that the memory of that is going to be decimated and then pulverized in less than a month's time.
Please Sir, I don't care what you need to do. Go on a hunger strike, weep tears of blood, do another badly written role of God, but whatever it is, please try and stop this film from ever getting released. Or even if it must be released, let it only tour Mumbai. Let it not embarrass the rest of the country or the world.
Alright Sir, be good. I shall keep you in my prayers.
Sincerely,
The One Who Saw the Trailer of Karzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz for the First Time Today and is Scarred Forever.
Two Kinds of Endorsements
I have sometimes been accused of having more tolerance for movies than for people. I think my justification, at least to myself, has been that a trashy movie can be shelved and forgotten but the impact of a trashy person can last a lifetime.
However, I sincerely believe that viewers like me, who will watch almost anything that comes out of Hollywood in the name of entertainment, and everything that comes out from Bollywood to curb their homesickness, should take the blame when products such as God Tussi Great Ho are released to the wider world. In the recent past, I have even sat through the entire screening of wonders such as Loha, Disco Dancer, Saudagar, Red, etc. to name a few. And it was with similar expectation or maybe a trifle more that I started my personal experience with God Tussi...
It is beyond my comprehension to understand why Salman Khan needed to not talk, nor scream, nor cry during the movie but screech instead. Or why Priyanka Chopra kept switching her nose ring from the left to the right nostril. As someone with a pierced nose, I can safely declare that getting one nostril pierced does not sort of guarantee the piercing of its twin, no, neither by osmosis, nor by auto suggestion. The supporting cast comprised, most memorably of, Anupam Kher and Sohail Khan. The former played an angry, bitter father, who apparently has a heart of gold buried somewhere really deep inside. So Kher mouths supposedly laugh-out-loud dialogues like, “Arrey jis din meri kali kalooti beti ki shaadi ho jayegi, us din...” Ah! Emancipated times! Particularly true in a country like ours where Bollywood actors are deified, their words are treated like those from gods, and where being fair-complexioned is one of the most coveted virtues. Sohail Khan is, well, never mind. I never did judge a movie by his inclusion in it. But the biggest surprise is Amitabh Bachchan who plays God in the movie. Why at this ripe old age he had to play a half-baked, nit-witted character defies all logic. This is a god, who unlike Morgan Freeman’s in Bruce Almighty, is super zzz inducing boring. He sounds like those pedantic and monotonous teachers from school who went on and on, and as students you could almost imagine the words “NOT FUN” to be engraved on their foreheads.
But a movie that as a viewer I should be proud of and also endorse is the Meryl Streep starrer Mamma Mia! (The exclamation is part of the title.) If not for anything else, watch the movie for its frame after frame of cinematographic generosity. Seriously, this is one of the prettiest movies of all time. It’s as if the creative team sat down and said, “You know it doesn’t matter if they like our movie or not. Let’s just make sure that for the duration for which they are in front of the screen, they should not be able to peel their eyes off it.” Another good reason to watch this movie? The evergreen music, mind you, not the lyrics, of ABBA. Okay, so are you saying you need one more reason? How about the fact that the central theme of the movie as I understood it is, “There is no ‘right’ age for fun. If you think you can handle it, go for it.”
Which is also my ten paisa worth of gyan to you today: If you think you can handle it (life), go for it.
However, I sincerely believe that viewers like me, who will watch almost anything that comes out of Hollywood in the name of entertainment, and everything that comes out from Bollywood to curb their homesickness, should take the blame when products such as God Tussi Great Ho are released to the wider world. In the recent past, I have even sat through the entire screening of wonders such as Loha, Disco Dancer, Saudagar, Red, etc. to name a few. And it was with similar expectation or maybe a trifle more that I started my personal experience with God Tussi...
It is beyond my comprehension to understand why Salman Khan needed to not talk, nor scream, nor cry during the movie but screech instead. Or why Priyanka Chopra kept switching her nose ring from the left to the right nostril. As someone with a pierced nose, I can safely declare that getting one nostril pierced does not sort of guarantee the piercing of its twin, no, neither by osmosis, nor by auto suggestion. The supporting cast comprised, most memorably of, Anupam Kher and Sohail Khan. The former played an angry, bitter father, who apparently has a heart of gold buried somewhere really deep inside. So Kher mouths supposedly laugh-out-loud dialogues like, “Arrey jis din meri kali kalooti beti ki shaadi ho jayegi, us din...” Ah! Emancipated times! Particularly true in a country like ours where Bollywood actors are deified, their words are treated like those from gods, and where being fair-complexioned is one of the most coveted virtues. Sohail Khan is, well, never mind. I never did judge a movie by his inclusion in it. But the biggest surprise is Amitabh Bachchan who plays God in the movie. Why at this ripe old age he had to play a half-baked, nit-witted character defies all logic. This is a god, who unlike Morgan Freeman’s in Bruce Almighty, is super zzz inducing boring. He sounds like those pedantic and monotonous teachers from school who went on and on, and as students you could almost imagine the words “NOT FUN” to be engraved on their foreheads.
But a movie that as a viewer I should be proud of and also endorse is the Meryl Streep starrer Mamma Mia! (The exclamation is part of the title.) If not for anything else, watch the movie for its frame after frame of cinematographic generosity. Seriously, this is one of the prettiest movies of all time. It’s as if the creative team sat down and said, “You know it doesn’t matter if they like our movie or not. Let’s just make sure that for the duration for which they are in front of the screen, they should not be able to peel their eyes off it.” Another good reason to watch this movie? The evergreen music, mind you, not the lyrics, of ABBA. Okay, so are you saying you need one more reason? How about the fact that the central theme of the movie as I understood it is, “There is no ‘right’ age for fun. If you think you can handle it, go for it.”
Which is also my ten paisa worth of gyan to you today: If you think you can handle it (life), go for it.
Brevity
Sometimes, the best lessons in life are short, so short in fact that they can be wrapped up in less than five minutes.
A few days ago, I was in the local bus and coming back home my workplace. The bus was being driven by, shall we say, Fred. Amiable, friendly, and in his fifties, my favorite part about him was his distinguished silver mustache and the easy laugh lines all over his face. That day, while waiting at a traffic signal, his cellphone rang. Fred answered. Given the bus’s acoustics and the position of my own seat, I heard him very well. And however much eavesdropping is plain bad manners, there is a reason why I think I should be excused. This is how the conversation went:
Fred: Hello, this is Fred Wilson.
Other end: ...
Fred: Oh hello, Mrs. Wilson. How are you since I last saw you?
Other end: ...
Fred: I know it was at breakfast this morning. But I am eager to see you again!
Other end: ...
Fred: Of course! I would be delighted to give you a ride. I have about six minutes before I reach your bus stop. Will you please wait for me?
Other end: ...
Fred: All right then! Bye!
Other end: ...
Unfortunately, my own bus stop came before those magical six minutes. It would have been nice to see how Fred interacts with his wife even in real life, and maybe learn a lesson or two more from him about staying in love.
A few days ago, I was in the local bus and coming back home my workplace. The bus was being driven by, shall we say, Fred. Amiable, friendly, and in his fifties, my favorite part about him was his distinguished silver mustache and the easy laugh lines all over his face. That day, while waiting at a traffic signal, his cellphone rang. Fred answered. Given the bus’s acoustics and the position of my own seat, I heard him very well. And however much eavesdropping is plain bad manners, there is a reason why I think I should be excused. This is how the conversation went:
Fred: Hello, this is Fred Wilson.
Other end: ...
Fred: Oh hello, Mrs. Wilson. How are you since I last saw you?
Other end: ...
Fred: I know it was at breakfast this morning. But I am eager to see you again!
Other end: ...
Fred: Of course! I would be delighted to give you a ride. I have about six minutes before I reach your bus stop. Will you please wait for me?
Other end: ...
Fred: All right then! Bye!
Other end: ...
Unfortunately, my own bus stop came before those magical six minutes. It would have been nice to see how Fred interacts with his wife even in real life, and maybe learn a lesson or two more from him about staying in love.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
PM And The Speech-Writer...
On August 14, 2010, inside a quiet, leafy, guarded bungalow on Race Course Road, a stressed old man shifted uncomfortably on his sofa. A young man next to him offered solace.
"You'll be fine. You've done it before. It's only the Independence Day," the young man said as he stacked sheets of paper.
"Do i have to give a speech?" the old man said, "I hate to talk."
"But you are the prime minister," the young man said, "And i am here, your speech-writer. Why worry?"
The PM remained uncomfortable. He looked at his phone. No calls or messages from high command. Without direction, life was extra hard.
The writer continued, "It's mostly school kids who attend. There is no Q&A at the end. Unfurl the flag, stand for the national anthem, take the gun salute, read the speech it is standard stuff."
"Everyone gets a holiday on Independence Day," the PM said, "why can't i?"
The speech-writer was speechless. He changed the topic.
"Should we talk about the content?" the writer said, "what do you want to focus on?"
"I don't know. What do you suggest?" the PM said. "Is there anything worth talking about?"
The speech-writer paused to look at the PM in disbelief before he spoke again: "So much has happened. Just in the past months."
"Like what?" the PM said.
"Like the Bhopal verdict no real punishment."
"Yes, but i don't have to talk about that," the PM said, "that story has died."
"Along with the thousands," the writer mumbled.
"What?" the PM said.
"Nothing. How about the crazy inflation? People are truly sick of it," the writer said.
"Really?" the PM said.
"Really what? That there is inflation or people are sick of it?" the writer said.
"Both i guess. I never buy anything. People do it for me. And i can't talk about inflation. It's too sensitive an issue."
"But it affects your people," the writer said.
"Next," the PM said.
"Corruption? Look at the Commonwealth Games full of murkiness. Why don't you resolve to put the criminals to book."
"Criminals who?" the PM said.
"The politicians and officials who did it," the writer said.
"But they are important people," the PM said.
"They've broken the law. Isn't the law the same for everyone?" the writer said.
"It is?" the PM said.
The writer could only raise his eyebrows in response.
"It can't be the same law. Have you ever seen any high-profile official in jail for corruption?" the PM said. "Any?" The writer shook his head.
"I don't like to make false promises," the PM said.
"Of course," the writer said and cleared his throat, "how about Kashmir? Violence has flared up there. Or maybe we can combine it with the Naxalite disturbance and talk about internal strife?"
"Talk what?" the PM said, "why do people like to talk? Why?"
"Talk to show you care," the writer said, "and talk about solving the issues, of course."
"Is that my job?" the PM said.
"You are the prime minister. The most powerful person in the country. You can make things happen," the writer said.
"Stop making fun of me," the PM said, "other topics?"
"India-Pakistan relations," the writer said.
"I am not allowed to talk about that," the PM said.
"Not allowed?" the writer said, confused on who could disallow the PM. The PM raised one eyebrow to the framed pictures on the wall above. The writer saw the person the PM was referring to. Both exchanged half smiles.
"It's OK. I am used to it now," the PM said.
The writer stretched his arms out. "I'm out of ideas. You guide me, sir. We don't have that much time."
" General topics," the PM said, "just make it broad enough that there is no controversy. But not so boring that the guards and kids go to sleep," the PM said.
The writer bit his upper lip to mull over the PM's suggestion.
"Like i'll tell you," the PM explained, "talk about poverty reducing it, of course. And education. And stuff like we won't tolerate injustice and inequality. Oh, and use the word superpower a couple of times just don't mention a specific issue or put a real opinion."
The writer nodded slowly as he absorbed the instructions.
"OK, sir, in that case, all i have to do is look at last few years' speeches and cut-and-paste to make a new one."
The PM's eyes opened wide as he shook his head. "Don't!" he said, using his rare loud voice, "don't do that. The TV channels catch on to the cut-and-paste. Who's that feisty TV anchor?"
"Barkha Dutt?" the writer said.
"Yeah, her. She'll rip it apart. Not to mention that Rajdeep Sardesai and Arnab Goswami and Deepak Chaurasia. They track all the copy-paste stuff, they'll talk non-stop about it," the PM said.
"OK, OK, won't refer to the past speeches," the writer said.
"No you can. Just make sure it is from speeches at least 20 years ago, before these anchors started work."
"Oh, OK," the writer said, "the content is the same anyway. Fine sir, you'll have it in two hours."
The writer stood up to leave. The PM escorted him to the door.
"You are a quick learner, i wish you all the success in life," the PM said.
"Thank you sir. I wish you...well, what can i wish you? You have everything."
"Wish me freedom, real freedom," the PM said, looking at the writer in his eyes as the door shut between them.
The writer is a best-selling novelist. He is popularly known as Chetan Bhagat. This is real pathetic. This is the state of affairs in India and the Prime Minister is real sick. The affairs here is something like neither the premier can swallow nor he can vomit it out.
SURELY FREEDOM'S NOT JUST ANOTHER WORD ON INDEPENDENCE DAY ? IS IT.........
Read more: PM And The Speech-Writer... - Edit Page - Opinion - Home - The Times of India http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/opinion/edit-page/PM-And-The-Speech-Writer/articleshow/6306432.cms#ixzz0wfl5lhFY
"You'll be fine. You've done it before. It's only the Independence Day," the young man said as he stacked sheets of paper.
"Do i have to give a speech?" the old man said, "I hate to talk."
"But you are the prime minister," the young man said, "And i am here, your speech-writer. Why worry?"
The PM remained uncomfortable. He looked at his phone. No calls or messages from high command. Without direction, life was extra hard.
The writer continued, "It's mostly school kids who attend. There is no Q&A at the end. Unfurl the flag, stand for the national anthem, take the gun salute, read the speech it is standard stuff."
"Everyone gets a holiday on Independence Day," the PM said, "why can't i?"
The speech-writer was speechless. He changed the topic.
"Should we talk about the content?" the writer said, "what do you want to focus on?"
"I don't know. What do you suggest?" the PM said. "Is there anything worth talking about?"
The speech-writer paused to look at the PM in disbelief before he spoke again: "So much has happened. Just in the past months."
"Like what?" the PM said.
"Like the Bhopal verdict no real punishment."
"Yes, but i don't have to talk about that," the PM said, "that story has died."
"Along with the thousands," the writer mumbled.
"What?" the PM said.
"Nothing. How about the crazy inflation? People are truly sick of it," the writer said.
"Really?" the PM said.
"Really what? That there is inflation or people are sick of it?" the writer said.
"Both i guess. I never buy anything. People do it for me. And i can't talk about inflation. It's too sensitive an issue."
"But it affects your people," the writer said.
"Next," the PM said.
"Corruption? Look at the Commonwealth Games full of murkiness. Why don't you resolve to put the criminals to book."
"Criminals who?" the PM said.
"The politicians and officials who did it," the writer said.
"But they are important people," the PM said.
"They've broken the law. Isn't the law the same for everyone?" the writer said.
"It is?" the PM said.
The writer could only raise his eyebrows in response.
"It can't be the same law. Have you ever seen any high-profile official in jail for corruption?" the PM said. "Any?" The writer shook his head.
"I don't like to make false promises," the PM said.
"Of course," the writer said and cleared his throat, "how about Kashmir? Violence has flared up there. Or maybe we can combine it with the Naxalite disturbance and talk about internal strife?"
"Talk what?" the PM said, "why do people like to talk? Why?"
"Talk to show you care," the writer said, "and talk about solving the issues, of course."
"Is that my job?" the PM said.
"You are the prime minister. The most powerful person in the country. You can make things happen," the writer said.
"Stop making fun of me," the PM said, "other topics?"
"India-Pakistan relations," the writer said.
"I am not allowed to talk about that," the PM said.
"Not allowed?" the writer said, confused on who could disallow the PM. The PM raised one eyebrow to the framed pictures on the wall above. The writer saw the person the PM was referring to. Both exchanged half smiles.
"It's OK. I am used to it now," the PM said.
The writer stretched his arms out. "I'm out of ideas. You guide me, sir. We don't have that much time."
" General topics," the PM said, "just make it broad enough that there is no controversy. But not so boring that the guards and kids go to sleep," the PM said.
The writer bit his upper lip to mull over the PM's suggestion.
"Like i'll tell you," the PM explained, "talk about poverty reducing it, of course. And education. And stuff like we won't tolerate injustice and inequality. Oh, and use the word superpower a couple of times just don't mention a specific issue or put a real opinion."
The writer nodded slowly as he absorbed the instructions.
"OK, sir, in that case, all i have to do is look at last few years' speeches and cut-and-paste to make a new one."
The PM's eyes opened wide as he shook his head. "Don't!" he said, using his rare loud voice, "don't do that. The TV channels catch on to the cut-and-paste. Who's that feisty TV anchor?"
"Barkha Dutt?" the writer said.
"Yeah, her. She'll rip it apart. Not to mention that Rajdeep Sardesai and Arnab Goswami and Deepak Chaurasia. They track all the copy-paste stuff, they'll talk non-stop about it," the PM said.
"OK, OK, won't refer to the past speeches," the writer said.
"No you can. Just make sure it is from speeches at least 20 years ago, before these anchors started work."
"Oh, OK," the writer said, "the content is the same anyway. Fine sir, you'll have it in two hours."
The writer stood up to leave. The PM escorted him to the door.
"You are a quick learner, i wish you all the success in life," the PM said.
"Thank you sir. I wish you...well, what can i wish you? You have everything."
"Wish me freedom, real freedom," the PM said, looking at the writer in his eyes as the door shut between them.
The writer is a best-selling novelist. He is popularly known as Chetan Bhagat. This is real pathetic. This is the state of affairs in India and the Prime Minister is real sick. The affairs here is something like neither the premier can swallow nor he can vomit it out.
SURELY FREEDOM'S NOT JUST ANOTHER WORD ON INDEPENDENCE DAY ? IS IT.........
Read more: PM And The Speech-Writer... - Edit Page - Opinion - Home - The Times of India http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/opinion/edit-page/PM-And-The-Speech-Writer/articleshow/6306432.cms#ixzz0wfl5lhFY
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