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Ganpati Bappa Moraya

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Heaven. Sometime yesterday. Indra, the colourful king of all Hindu Gods, looked weary ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indra ). He cast his eyes across the room and saw thousands of Ganesha Idols jostling with each other to get a better place so they could clearly hear what Indra was about to say. With every passing year, each idol was getting increasingly larger and needed more space. (There was already talk of taking down an entire Parel flyover, to ensure that one of the Idols could be even taller in the 002009.) They were all there, everyone of them. The Rajas of Lalbaug, Dagdu Sheth, Kumbhaar Road sat in front row, while the little ones from poor homes were relegated to the far corners, with no darshan to Indra. All knew, that it was an important announcement that Indra was scheduled to make, and had made it a point to attend. For the first time, Indra had relied upon a new computer program call P.A.I.S.A. (Pandal Allocation and Impartiality Simulating Algorithm), to decide which G...
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What is a miracle?

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Kurla is not the first choice you make, if you want to fix a meeting. As fact, in my 25 years of Bombay - i've not had a business meeting in Kurla. It just sounded far too counterproductive, to make it through the traffic snarls and the impatience that brings with it. Till today.  The meeting was worth it, and business was conducted.  The travel, on the other hand - was a revelation. I marvelled at the new SCLR that has been built, while chatting with my cabbie about why Mumbai is the noisiest city in the world, his faith in Modi (despite being a Muslim), improvement in the city's infrastructure etc. I finally saw the markets where spare car parts come from and teak and timber. The  journey to the meeting showed me a part of the city, that earlier was a place you don't just boldly go... For my return, I hitched a tuk-tuk. And then, the following happened in less than a few minutes: A slight jam, before the SCLR signal. Road packed with vehicles... Our ...
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Narmada Bachao - drops of joy?

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Being fiscal year ending, The Parliament was in session. Politicians, musing on if the growth would be at a perfect 10% and whether the yo-yoing Stock Index would yo-yo from unscaled heights to Abyssinian depths for much longer, crowded the Capital. “ A correction is inevitable!!” someone said. “Omkara!”, a Senator prayed, in Session. “Omkara!”, another agreed. I went there, for the other reasons. This Rat was not in the Stock Index Race. A bustling Capital held three attractions. Cheese. Sleaze. Grease. Economic soothsaying had never invoked me. Inevitably, as is the case with mismanaged secrets, the news had spread. And by the time I reached Session, all the three of my coveted lures had been devoured. “Rats!”, I sighed. And slunk away. Some introspection later, I decided to behold the India Gate – a place I had not been able to visit up to, until this unrewarding journey – and looked at the stone structure in wonder. Being a rodent, I was shortly distracted. A set of curv...
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