Skip to main content

Some Political Games


Politics is a game like chess. The pawns are sacrificed first. The King remains in the end on the board. The whole game is meant for keeping the king there till the end. Everybody else is dispensable. That’s what the system makes us believe. We all keep playing the game because we have no other choice if we wish to survive at all. That’s how the system is made to be.

The book I’m reading now is Farooq of Kashmir by Ashwini Bhatnagar and R C Ganjoo. There’s a lot of amusing info on the Abdullah family of Kashmir in this book. You know those facts perhaps. But there’s no harm in being reminded once again and to draw some parallels with our present ruler. I mean, it doesn’t matter whether you are an Abdullah or a Modi as long as you are a politician. The behavioural pattern is the same. 

Politics is a religion by itself. The ordinary people are the foolish devotees and the rulers are the gods. The angels are the crony capitalists who provide the funds, stolen from the ordinary folk through many devious ways such as nonrefundable bank loans.  

I’m still reading Farooq of Kashmir. Just wanted to share with you something that made me stop reading and start thinking. Start writing, rather.

Farooq Abdullah, his father Sheikh Abdullah, and his son Omar Abdullah have ruled Jammu & Kashmir for a long time. Just as Modi and Parivar will be doing in India for many more years. History is useless unless we get the parallel lessons right.

Sheikh Abdullah’s great-grandfather was a Hindu Brahmin who converted to Islam after meeting a Sufi preacher. His wife was the daughter of Michael Harry Nedou, a European Christian who had converted to Islam for marrying a Muslim girl he loved.

Where do we draw the line between religions? There was so much miscegenation in this country that there is sure to be some Muslim blood in every Hindu and vice versa. Buddhist blood too. Christian too. And perhaps some others too. Do you have the guts to go back really into history instead of playing with delusional myths?

How far will you go into the past re-creating history to cleanse your blood racially? One simple DNA test is enough to burst your myths that you call history.

But what really bothers me is not the DNA. It’s the politics of convenience. What provoked me to write this is the compromise that Yogi Dhirendra Brahmachari (DB) made with Farooq Abdulla for the sake of politics. DB was Indira Gandhi’s guru. Though he was a yogi, a humble and austere ascetic, he had more wealth than today’s Ambani or Adani. Political connections make you rich even if you don’t want to become rich. The simple, humble, austere yogi was catapulted to a Peacock Throne by politicians. Eventually he was the owner of a whole empire that included sprawling ashrams, the Shiva Gun Factory in Kashmir, two aircrafts which were always busy carrying politicians around, and a pure white length of linen that covered the nakedness of the humble, simple, ascetic yogi DB.

Farooq Abdullah must have gauged Dhirendra Brahmachari at first sight. Love at first sight, let’s say. Farooq demanded a night of pleasure at the yogi’s splendorous ashram. Farooq had a great time with a beautiful girl and many handsome boys at the ashram. Politics. With a little religion as spice.

That’s how it is. Politics and religion. An understanding among people who matter. An understanding that makes enemies of people in the streets while the leaders will have all the fun in resorts.

These people who matter also know how to keep the ordinary people out of the whole game. The pawns. They are to be sacrificed. They will play the game on the streets. They will die. The real game is won in splendid palaces by people wearing costumes of convenient hues.

Let’s come back to the present from Indira Gandhi and her Brahmachari. Just to know that nothing has changed in India. Except, may be, the way it’s all publicised. 

Oct 2021. India’s Prime Minister, Yogi, Priest, Vishwa Guru and many other things rolled into one, come on, give him a big hand, none other than His Highness (HH) Narendraji Modiji himself, visited the Pope in the Vatican. At that time, the Christian churches in Uttar Pradesh, a state governed by a yogi no lesser than Modiji, were being pulled down by Modiji’s partymen.

Eventually HH Narendraji Modiji met many other Christian leaders in many places including a star hotel in Kochi recently and they had splendid dinner parties. Ordinary fellows still fight on the streets in the name of these religions which actually bring their leaders together at splendid resorts.

Let me return to the Farooq book. I shall be here with more interesting stuff tomorrow. Trust me, I may be better entertainment than these leaders who are enjoying themselves in fabulous places at our cost. 

Sacred Heart Cathedral, Delhi

The latest costume, at Kashi Vishwanath temple

X

 

Comments

  1. Do not go too far into your family history if you want to believe in some sort of "purity". That's a myth, anyway. Sad that people are going back to wanting this sort of thing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. India is being taken so far back into the past that we're losing track of the difference between history and myth.

      Delete
  2. Indian politics is not for beginners 💀

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Mango Trees and Cats

Appu and Dessie, two of our cats, love to sleep under the two mango trees in front of our house these days. During the daytime, that is, when the temperature threatens to brush 40 degrees Celsius. The shade beneath the mango trees remains a cool 28 degrees or so. Mango trees have this tremendous cooling effect. When I constructed the house, the area in front had no touch of greenery as you can see in the pic below.  Now the same area, which was totally arid then, looks like what's below:  Appu and Dessie find their bower in that coolness.  I wanted to have a lot of colours around my house. I tried growing all sorts of flower plants and failed rather miserably. The climate changes are beyond the plants’ tolerance levels. Moreover, all sorts of insects and pests come from nowhere and damage the plants. Crotons survive and even thrive. I haven’t given up hope with the others yet. There are a few adeniums, rhoeos, ixoras, zinnias and so on growing in the pots. They are trying their

Brownie and I - a love affair

The last snap I took of Brownie That Brownie went away without giving me a hint is what makes her absence so painful. It’s nearly a month and I know now for certain that she won’t return. Worse, I know that she didn’t want to leave me. She couldn’t have. Brownie is the only creature who could make me do what she wanted. She had the liberty to walk into my bedroom at any time of the night and wake me up for a bite of her favourite food. She would sit below the bed and meow. If I didn’t get up and follow her, she would climb on the bed and meow to my face. She knew I would get up and follow her to the cupboard where bags of cat food were stored.  My Mistress in my study Brownie was not my only cat; there were three others. But none of the other three ever made the kind of demands that Brownie made. If any of them came to eat the food I served Brownie at odd hours of the night, Brownie would flatly refuse to eat with them in spite of the fact that it was she who had brought me out of

Everything is Politics

Politics begins to contaminate everything like an epidemic when ideology dies. Death of ideology is the most glaring fault line on the rock of present Indian democracy. Before the present regime took charge of the country, political parties were driven by certain underlying ideologies though corruption was on the rise from Indira Gandhi’s time onwards. Mahatma Gandhi’s ideology was rooted in nonviolence. Nothing could shake the Mahatma’s faith in that ideal. Nehru was a staunch secularist who longed to make India a nation of rational people who will reap the abundant benefits proffered by science and technology. Even the violent left parties had the ideal of socialism to guide them. The most heartless political theory of globalisation was driven by the ideology of wealth-creation for all. When there is no ideology whatever, politics of the foulest kind begins to corrode the very soul of the nation. And that is precisely what is happening to present India. Everything is politics

A Rat’s Death

I’m reading an anthology of Urdu stories written by different authors and translated into English by Rakshanda Jalil. These are stories taken from the rural backyards of India. I wish to focus on just one of them here today merely because I love it for its aesthetic intensity. A Rat’s Death by Zakia Mashhadi is the story of an impecunious man named Dhena who is a Musahar. Musahar is a Dalit community whose very name means ‘rat eater.’ Their main occupation is catching rats which they eat too because of inescapable destitution. One day Dhena is tempted by the offer made by Mishrji, a political broker. Go to the city and take part in a political rally and “You will get eight rupees, and also sherbet and puris with sabzi.” Puris and sabzi with sherbet to boot is a banquet for Dhena for whom even salt in his rat meat is a luxury. Dhena is scared of the city’s largeness and rush and pomp. But the reward is too tempting. The city people who eat puri-sabzi consider people like Dhena