Situation : Breaks into a museum

Setting : Empty Godown

(Scene : A dimly lit deserted museum gallery.)

Characters:

• Manav (MN)
• Rajappa (RJ)

ACT — 1

(Manav is desperately attempting to break open a glass case displaying exquisite artifacts of renowned artists from the pre-independence era. Rajappa, the stern security guard, notices the subtle movement in the section and approaches quietly, his flashlight cutting through the darkness)

Rajappa(RJ) (points his gun at Manav) : Freeze! Do not move.

Manav(MN) : Do not shoot me. Please!

RJ: What do you think you are doing here? The museum is closed for visitors, right? The previous shift guard said he saw no one inside before locking the gates. Not sure how you got missed. Anyway, tell me why you are still here or I’ll shoot you in the leg.

MN(nervously): Sir, please don’t. I just came in when the entrance was about to close and stayed back in the restroom.

RJ: Aye, you think this is a joke? Why would you stay back in the restroom? If you are trying to steal anything here, you must be a fool. You can’t get out of here in one piece. I’ll shoot you if you don’t confess.

MN: Sir, I’m not here to steal anything.

RJ: You must have lost your mind. First of all, you stay back well beyond the closing hours. To top that you are telling me you are not here to steal anything. What is your plan? Who even are you?

MN: I’m Manav and I’m a clown by profession. I go by the name Fizbo. A birthday clown to be precise. People branded me the best. I’ve been the best for the past 30 years now. Recipient of the prestigious Bellandur Clowns’ Association award and I have also received a lifetime achievement award from Race Course Road clowns’ association.

RJ: All that is fine. I’m asking you for one last time, tell me why you are still here before I put a bullet in your leg.

(Manav peeks at Rajappa’s name plate.)

MN: RajaNNa sir! Yeah, yeah! I’ll get there.

RJ: Rajappa! It is Rajappa. Not RajaNNa.

MN: Ayyo, sorry Rajappa sir. You see, I have had a pretty rough day. Not just today, the last 2–3 years have been bad. But I felt everything ended today. I wanted to go to a bar and drink my sadness off, but couldn’t. One of my master plans made me come to the museum instead. Also, it looks like it’s just the two of us here. So relax Rajappa sir. I’m not going anywhere until my job is done. So, rest your gun and sit down. Let me tell you my story.

RJ: Rest your gun, ah! I like your audacity, man. Wait a second, I’ll call my supervisor. He will hand you over to the police.

(Rajappa picks up his phone.)

MN: Sir, sir! Please hear me out. I beg you to not get me arrested. I assure you, I’m not here to steal anything. I assume this museum means a lot to you. And, I know its importance too.

RJ(Hesitantly puts back the phone in his pants pocket) : Why should I trust you?

MN: Sir, I did pass the museum’s metal detectors. All I have is a bag of props. I am a mere clown. Harmless. You listen to my story, and at the end, if you still think I’m a thief, do what you please is right. I have nothing to lose in my life now.

RJ: I’m still not convinced, but to be frank, I have never seen a clown in real life. Haven’t been to any performances. When my daughter was little, she always wanted a clown to be invited on her birthday. My wife was always excited about the circus shows. We couldn’t afford those luxuries, though.

MN: See, now you seem to be talking. I have given many unpaid performances till now. I have never cared about money. It’s what I do to entertain and what I teach the kids that makes me happy. I can come to your home and give you all a private show. Can I not do this much for you, Rajappa sir?

RJ: Are you trying to bribe me? This wont work and has never worked before.

MN: Bribe? How is this a bribe, sir? I only want you and your family to have the experience that you missed. I love what I do and I’m happy to do this for you.

RJ: You are right. I regret that I was not able to give this luxury to my family back then. Ok, you can come to my home…

RJ(continues): I still doubt your intentions though. Mind you, this whole conversation is being recorded in the camera on your top left. So don’t you dare try to pull any of your acts on me. Ok, go on. Tell me, what are you here for?

MN: It’s a long story, sir. Why don’t we sit and talk?

— — — — — —

ACT — 2

MN: So, I got fired from my group today.

RJ: Ayyo, why? What happened? And what group is this?

MN(with a heavy sigh): We are a group of 4 clowns. I’m the only birthday clown. We started this group 35 years ago. It took us around 5 years to even become notable. I was the only birthday clown in the town back then. Now there’s one in every street.

RJ: Is it? I doubt that. But yeah, go on. If you were so good at what you did, why did you get fired now?

MN: Like they say, the bubble had to burst. We were quite small when we started but once we became popular and influential, we had no clue how to manage the money and the events. So We hired an agency which managed us. They used to link us to events and we would go there and perform.”

RJ: Without commission? Who does anything without commission these days?

MN: Yeahh! They do. They got a small commission of our earnings. But we were ok with that. This had been the process for the last 10 years and you know what, they may have helped us in the past but those rascals fired me today.

RJ (mockingly): How dare they fire the prestigious RCR clowns association lifetime achievement awardee?

MN(Ignores the mocking tone): Yeah! But it’s not entirely their fault. I’m actually losing my charm. I am not the same mischievous Fizbo anymore. My punchlines are not witty enough for the kids these days. During my last performance I was unable to tell the difference between a red and a blue ribbon. They all looked the same.

RJ(realizing the seriousness of the conversation): Nah! You are just growing old, Manav. Just like me. In my youth I could guard the museum for two full shifts straight. Now I can’t even stay awake during the entire night shift. I can barely point the gun straight at you. Forget pointing, I can’t even lift the gun and rest it on my shoulders these days. That’s what it is. We are growing old. The earlier you realize this, the easier it is…

You were the best in the town during some point in your life, right? Cherish those moments and just move on.

MN: You might be content with that, Rajappa sir. But I’m not! I want to remain the best forever. History should remember Fizbo to be the best birthday clown, ever.

(He pulls out a bag full of props and unveils a shiny plate coated with gold.)

RJ(reads the content on the plate out loud): Fizbo, the greatest birthday clown that ever lived.

RJ: What are these? Were you planning to put out a show here?

MN: These are my iconic props. These props are Fizbo’s identity. Fizbo is nothing without them. Look at these balloon animals. Usually, I’d give the balloon animals to the kids at the start of the show and ask them to play with them. I’d make up wild stories that these balloons represent mythical creatures from the grasslands of Africa. I’d convince them that the balloons were filled with a magical gas and if they inhale it or even rub these balloons on their skin, any incurable disease would miraculously vanish.

RJ: Do they actually inhale it?

MN: Nah! But they do rub the balloons on their skin. The ‘cure to all diseases’ story is surprisingly working post COVID-19 pandemic. You must have read about it in the newspapers.

RJ: Yes… But my daughter says that it is unscientific. Aren’t you lying to the kids? These kids are not dumb, right? I know you do this for sheer fun but what if they pose tough factual questions?

MN: At times they do. That’s when I put on my mime mode. I avoid criticism in any form. I do not take any tough questions and even gesture angrily at the kid who posed the question to silently step out of the group. Majority of the kids don’t really care about facts and science. They are just excited about my tricks.

RJ: Avoiding tough questions, staying away from criticism. Silencing your nay-sayers. Sounds less of a clown and more like a dictator to me. I still don’t understand what the kids see in you and why they would believe your made up stories. Chuck that! What about the doll here?

MN: That’s my dummy. My puppet and my go-to trick, Lizbo. The act is called Ventriloquism and it’s an absolute winner among kids. With a grumpy old man’s voice to Lizbo, I start off with a couple of jokes and end the act with an extremely scary story. When I want to make an announcement about the party, I use Lizbo.

RJ: Lizbo does look and sound scary. I do know kids enjoy stories. My daughter is also a fan of scary stories. I’m a grumpy old man myself. I don’t even have to try to act like one. Ahhh, What about the four balls? Are those juggling balls?

MN: Absolutely right! I’ve learnt the act of juggling from my senior clowns and kids go gaga about the entire act. I casually start off with two balls. One is saffron and the other is green. I keep adding a saffron ball at regular intervals and even before the kids realize, the green ball is gone. These are the tricks that made me the best. My seniors wouldn’t have approved of it, though. They always wanted the juggling balls to be of varied colors. I believe in uniformity rather than diversity. At the end of the act, kids are stunned. That’s my trick. Don’t ask me how I do it. You should see the excitement on the faces of the kids.

RJ: I still don’t understand how you end up keeping the kids captivated. Alright, let’s move on. What about this rope? What trick do you pull off with that?

MN: Ah! The rope. My favorite of them all. I would usually use this long rope to make the kids play Tug-of-war. I’d divide the kids into 2 groups. You’d think I’ll be impartial. But no. Initially to keep the kids excited, I’d always make sure that the physically stronger kids would be on both the teams. But I switch each stronger and more privileged kid to my right and of-course they’d win. But kids noticed this pattern and started pampering me to be in the group to my right so they could also win. I’d let them go. Creating a level playing ground was never my intention. I craved and enjoyed the attention that the kids gave me and the kids wanted to win. I am happy when the majority of the kids are happy, right?

RJ: I get it. I get it. Super… You are a clown and your job is to entertain the kids. But don’t you think you’re just misleading them in most cases. That’s more dangerous in the longer run than any act of physical violence.

MN: That I don’t know. I do know that I was the best and I want to remain the best forever.

RJ: Your tricks may work on the kids but you can’t mislead me and this here, whatever you want to do in the museum now, unfortunately I can’t allow you to do that.

MN: Rajappa sir. I’m not even stealing anything from here. Your job will be safe. Why are you worrying so much?

— — — — —

ACT-3

RJ: Listen, people at the museum respect me for my work. I’m known to be honest and you could even say that discipline is my middle name. I won’t compromise my principles for people like you. In the past 25 years since I joined, the museum has been my second home. My seniors taught me that ‘those who cannot remember the history are doomed to repeat it’, and hence safeguarding this museum was of utmost importance for me. It is true that recently we have seen many heists like yours here, one at least in 5 years. Not that we are incompetent. Robbers have armed themselves with the latest technology to bypass all security.

MN: See, right there, I’m not like the other robbers. I told you I am not here to steal anything. How would it affect your job if I plant an artifact here?

RJ: Ah! Waiit. Plant an artifact? So you are here to…

MN: Thaaat’s correct! Some people come to loot the museum, others want to rename the artifacts. But today, I want to place my props in the museum. I am here to alter history and be a part of it.

RJ: No no. I’ll never let you do this. You do know that removal or addition of any artifacts is a punishable offense, right?

MN: Sir, I just want a small place in this museum. In history! I Want to be remembered forever.

RJ: Manav, this is wrong. It’s never too late to reconsider. If you don’t, I will have to call my supervisor and hand you over to the police. But I can’t let you do this.

MN: Sir, I told you my story and promised you a private performance. But you don’t seem to be budging which leaves me with no other option. I mentioned before about not having any weapons. But what if one of my toys can do a trick? You think I came here unarmed?

(Manav quickly picks up his toy gun from the props bag and fires a cloth at Rajappa.)

RJ(panic stricken): No, don’t… don’t!

(The cloth hits Rajappa on the nose and he falls down.)

RJ(coughs): What did you do? Why is this choking me and tickling me at the same time?

MN(slowly stands up): That piece of cloth was dipped in Nitrous Oxide, sir. It might be called the laughing gas but It has enough toxicity to make you laugh and cause loss of consciousness at the sametime.

RJ(gasping for breath): Manav, I’m saying it again. It’s never too late to reconsider.

MN: Rajappa sir. This is my final chance to preserve my legacy. Don’t try to stop me. I’ll definitely not kill you. I just want you out of my way. So thank you for your service, Rajappa sir. I win, you lose.

(slowly walks towards the glass case.)

RJ: You’ll be caught tomorrow when everybody finds out. But until then, go ahead. Place your props in the glass case. I can’t stop you now. The system cant stop you now. But remember, history will never forgive you for misleading the kids or for this crime. This museum was once a temple of history. What more is this place now but a mere empty godown…

Rajappa falls unconscious…

Manav reads out the contents embossed on the golden plate with pride…

Fizbo, the greatest clown in the history of time!

“Standby, Varsha. We’re going live in three… two…”

Varsha adjusted her posture and took a deep breath as the cameras glided towards her.

“Good evening! I’m Varsha Ramaswamy, and you are watching Newsnight. Today, we have two exceptional guests in the studio. From the picturesque town of Jowai in Meghalaya, meet Namdi. He is here because he claims to be experiencing peculiar dreams of his past life. Initially met with skepticism by his entire village, they once branded him a fool. However, the entire village now celebrates him and his unique ability. We will delve further into his life shortly, but before that, let me introduce you to another gentleman to my right, Tony Joseph. Joseph hails from Bengaluru and is a renowned parapsychologist.”

“Sir, I’ll start the show with a simple question for you: could you explain to the viewers your profession and the field of parapsychology?”

“Good evening, Varsha. Parapsychology is the study of extrasensory perceptions, telepathy, psychometry, and other paranormal phenomena, such as near-death experiences. Essentially, we investigate individuals like Namdi and document their experiences,” said Joseph.

“Since when have you been practicing, and what led you to this profession?”

“My father was a Homeopathy practitioner in Kerala. In the early 2020s, around 30 years back, that is after the COVID-19 pandemic, there was a surge in doctors and scientists criticizing Ayurveda and Homeopathy. We had to relocate from Kerala to Bengaluru in search of a more supportive environment. Fortunately, the government back then encouraged and funded our practice, making our lives much easier. It was during this time that I developed an inclination towards studying human behavior, and coincidentally, Christ University offered an intriguing course in parapsychology, which I promptly enrolled in. I completed my undergraduate studies at Christ University and pursued my master’s degree at Duke University. For the past 30 years, I have been studying individuals who claim to have experiences ranging from near-death encounters to dreams of their previous lives, much like Namdi here in the studio,” Joseph replied.

“That’s fascinating, Tony sir. I have a few questions for you, but before that, let me turn to Namdi. As a Hindu, I believe in rebirths and reincarnations, so your claims naturally fascinate me. Namdi, could you please tell us more about yourself and your unique skill?”

“I’m Namdi from a town located just 20 kilometers from Jowai in Meghalaya, close to the beautiful Phe Phe falls. Currently, I’m studying in high school.”

“So when did these peculiar dreams begin, and how did you become a local celebrity?”

“These dreams started when I was just seven years old. Initially, they were related to historical events. My father is a history teacher at a nearby primary school, and I assumed the dreams were influenced by the books I read and the stories I heard. However, one day, I dreamt of eating a round, fluffy dish with a delectable chicken curry. Such cuisine is not typically found in Meghalaya. When I shared this with my dad, he mentioned a similar dish in South India called ‘Idly,’ commonly served with ‘sambhar,’ though he was unsure about the chicken curry. On another occasion, I dreamt of buying grocery at a market and paying with a pink-red-colored note. We rarely use notes for transactions now, but my dad recalled a 1000 rupee note that was later demonetised around 30 years ago. And Whenever I hear the name ‘Manipur,’ I feel a deep unease. None of these dreams on my neighboring state are peaceful, and my friends often laugh when I narrate these dreams. They say historically, there’s been no evidence of any conflict in Manipur. Its moments like these that led my fellow villagers to initially label me a fool,” Namdi explained promptly.

“This is a classic case of having dreams about your past life, Varsha. We refer to people like Namdi as ‘Jatismara.’ It is believed to be an ability that great saints possessed. But, Namdi, I assume your townsfolk no longer discard your dreams, right? How did you become a celebrity? What happened in between?” Tony Joseph inquired.

“That’s right! So, I once had a dream where I was selling small saplings of various kinds. The space was compact, enclosed with a green cloth around the perimeter and an asbestos ceiling. I shared this dream with my dad, who thought setting up a nursery was a great business idea. He spoke to a few villagers, some of whom agreed to pool in some money as an initial investment to set up the business. We sourced saplings from Jowai, and travelers visiting Phe Phe falls would come to our nursery to purchase these saplings. The business is now highly profitable, and the villagers consider me somewhat of a spiritual guide for suggesting the idea. They even come to me seeking solutions to various personal problems. But to be completely honest, I’m neither an astrologer nor a soothsayer. I simply have these peculiar dreams, and more often than not, they don’t seem to make any sense.”

“Like the dream I had just a few hours ago before coming to the studio. There were four similarly beautiful buildings on a hill. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen them. Every time I dream of these four towers, I feel a heavy weight on my chest, and tears well up in my eyes.”

“Do you remember anything specific about this place? Is it a hill station?” Joseph inquired.

“No, I see people living there,” Namdi replied.

“So, it might be an apartment complex on a hill. Did you say there are four towers, Namdi?”

“Yes, exactly! Four towers on a hill, and I can’t see anything else on the hill,” Namdi confirmed.

“Varsha and Namdi, surprisingly, I seem to know a place that fits this description. It’s in Bengaluru, very close to my home,” Tony Joseph mentioned.

“Is there a possibility that we can visit this place?” Varsha asked.

“Certainly, we can. It would also be beneficial for my research,” Joseph replied.

“Let me discuss this with my executive producer, Bilal, and see if we can arrange it,” Varsha said.

“In the meantime, let’s take a short commercial break. This conversation just got more intriguing. We will be back with further updates. Stay tuned!”

“And we’re clear!” Bilal’s voice signaled the end of the segment. The countdown timer on the screen ticked down from 10, and as it hit zero, the screen faded to black.

“Bilal, you just witnessed the immense potential in this story. Can we arrange a short trip to Bengaluru and see if the kid can recall more details?”

Bilal enthusiastically embraced the idea, and they made the decision to provide a logical conclusion to this episode by flying to Bengaluru with Tony and Namdi.

The cameras rolled back in as Varsha took her position ready to continue the broadcast.

“Welcome back to NewsTime, and I’m Varsha Ramaswamy. Before the break, we heard the remarkable story of Namdi, the young prodigy who dreamt of four buildings on a hill, and the renowned parapsychologist, Tony, who mentioned knowing a similar apartment complex in Bengaluru. Bilal, our executive producer, and I have deliberated on how to proceed with this episode, and we’ve chosen to continue our coverage from the streets of Bengaluru to see if Namdi can recall any further details. We know you’re as eager as we are to find out what unfolds next. So, please stay with us. We’ll be back tomorrow with more updates. Have a wonderful night!”

— — 24 hours later — —

“Good evening. I’m Varsha Ramaswamy, and you’re watching NewsTime. Today’s episode is special and unique. I’ve never covered a story like this before. We are currently in Bengaluru with Namdi and Tony Joseph. In just a few minutes, we will be approaching the apartment complex that might resemble the one Namdi claims to have dreamt of. So, Tony sir, could you please tell us where we are?”

“Certainly. This locality is called Hosakerehalli, and in a couple of minutes, we will have a view of the Bata Fremont apartments. They were constructed in the late 2010s. It’s been 30 years since then, and the surrounding landscape has seen significant changes, but these apartment towers still stand tall.”

Namdi, looking out of the car window, could see the four-towered apartments. As the car approached the complex, his heart started pounding. He asked for water, but nothing seemed to help. He slumped in his seat and suddenly closed his eyes. Shocked by this sudden turn of events, Varsha instructed the driver to stop the car. By this time, Namdi had slipped into unconsciousness. He was mumbling in a different language. Tony confirmed that it was Kannada. All they could hear were the words, “ಅಬ್ಬು, ಅಮ್ಮಿ, ನಮ್ಗೆ ಏನಾಗಲ್ಲ. ನಮ್ ಮನೆಗೆ ಮತ್ತೆ ನರ್ಸರಿಗೆ ಏನಾಗಲ್ಲ.” Then he stopped speaking, but the camera kept rolling.

“Tony, could you please translate what Namdi said for our viewers?” Varsha inquired.

“Yes, Varsha. I understand Kannada, and if I’m not mistaken, he said, ‘Abbu ammi, we will be safe. Our home and our nursery will be safe.’”

Driver Govindu turned to Varsha and continued speaking as the camera rolled, “Varsha ma’am, I’m from this locality and have been here since my birth. I heard that this kid is actually claiming to be having dreams of his previous life. If we start connecting dots then I think, 25–30 years ago, there were a few families who lived here. They earned their livelihood by selling saplings in a nursery. The government back then decided to demolish their homes and their source of income. It seems like he’s talking about the same incident.”

Varsha leaped out of her seat and instructed the cameraman to stop recording. Tony was taken aback by Varsha’s actions.

“Why, Varsha? Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Yes, Tony, sir. If even half of what Govindu is saying is true, I might have to reconsider my career for broadcasting this. This news was never reported back then, and it can’t be reported now!”

— — — — — —

“Appa! It’s been 3 and a half days now. For God’s sake, can you turn off your laptop and go sleep?”. Mira’s tone was so filled with anxiety more than concern that Aditya had no other go but to take heed of her request.

“Yes, yes. I will. Half an hour and laptop bundh”, said Aditya.

It was 11:30 at night and Aditya most certainly didn’t sound reassuring to his 14-year-old daughter.

“There are many things I’m unsure of at this point in time, but I’m sure I’ll never take up an IT job when I grow up”, said the teenager.

“You might have your own reasons but mind you, traffic shouldn’t be on that list”, said Aditya and the two burst out laughing.

One scan at Aditya’s salt and pepper hair and the mild concentric wrinkles beneath his eyes, and you’d know that he’s in his late 40’s. With more than 20 years of experience in his industry, he surely knows its pitfalls. Still he wanted to hear out the teenager’s point of view.

“You guys do the same work day in and day out. Won’t it get a bit monotonous after a certain point of time?”

“That’s the problem with any field, right?”, asked Aditya. “You just need to explore and find some relief. Like what I did 8 months back. Switching to a start-up at this point in my career was not easy. The best part is that, here you have the liberty to be crazy, unrealistic and make things work at the same time.”

“But the work. It’ll still be the same, right?” Mira wasn’t convinced, yet.

“That’s the overall perception. Technology changes with time and you need to adapt to survive. Oh yeah! Come here. Let me show you something that I’ve been working on.”

Mira hesitantly pulled her chair and they both stared at the screen in front of them.

“So, I’ve been working on this tool which I call the BLACK MIRROR. It takes the current mood of the population into consideration and correspondingly categorizes the words in a sentence that you type in.”

Noticing a big question mark on Mira’s face, Aditya continued to explain.

“Take this for an example — “

‘Virat Kohli is the best cricketer in the world.’

The system would print…

Virat Kohli — Captain.

Cricket — sport.

World — location.

“Understood? No? Okay, now take this.”

‘Sachin is the best cricketer in the world.’

The system would print…

Sachin — God.

Cricket — sport.

World — location.

“Since the majority in our nation consider Sachin to be the ‘God’ of cricket.”

“This sounds interesting. But how do you get this feed?”, asked Mira.

“From the newspaper articles, prime time TV shows, tweets, podcasts and other social media posts. The system clubs these articles, breaks them down into tokens (or words), attaches parts-of-speech(pos) tags to them and pairs the most frequently used adjective to a proper noun. Hence Kohli was tagged as Captain and Sachin as God.”

“Tell me more.” Exclaimed Mira.

“It’s 12:05 AM. Don’t you want me to sleep?” asked Aditya and they both chuckled together. His dark circles had grown darker and all his body craved for was a good sleep.

“Do you want me to test your tool?”, asked Mira.

“Of course. I’ll go crash then.”

“Password?”

“Why do you ask? You know it”, and off he went to his room.

Mira playfully started to test the tool.

She wanted to check the regional reach of the algorithm. So she typed…

‘Rajkumar is the best actor of Kannada film industry.’

The system said…

Rajkumar — Annavru.

Kannada — Kannad.

She was quite surprised to see Annavru on the screen but the second answer let her down.

“That’s how the algorithm works. Based on the majority of the country”, she mumbled.

On any other day she’d have been half way through her sleep by now. But this tool kept her awake.

She went on to type…

‘They say, Mumbai is the gateway to India.’

The output was something that she never expected.

At first the system printed…

Mumbai — Bollywood.

But then it said,

India — Hindurashtra.

Mira sat back, numb with fear and unable to believe what she had just seen. The result gave her all the more reasons to type more and test more.

She typed… ‘Pakistan.’

System printed…Enemy state…

She typed… ‘Hindi.’

System printed… National Language…

Mira was stunned looking at the results. The system by this time, had started learning at a good pace and it now started predicting the results even before she could complete typing.

She was about to type… ‘MUSL …’

The system predicted exactly what she had expected. The next moment she shut her laptop and threw it aside.

Her heart sunk and clouds of doubts engulfed her mind.

She rushed to wake her dad up and question his gruesome work.

“Appa! Wake up.”

A dopey-eyed Aditya woke up to see his terrified daughter.

“Your tool is disgusting and gives terrible predictions. It’s like a snake- spitting venom all over the world.”

“Calm down, Mira. You need to relax”, said Aditya, trying to console her. “I did warn you in the beginning. The fault is not in my tool. It just picks up the ongoing trend in the country. It picks up what the majority in this country thinks, speaks, tweets or posts. The society feeds my system. It’s basically a reflection of the society.”

“Unfortunately, the society works exactly on the same algorithm but with a tiny bit of conscience. And the people in power are the ones who are training the system and shaping it.”

Mira was lost. A million questions flooded in her mind but she chose to walk back without uttering a word.

On her way back she quietly recalled her dad’s explanation. “The system is just a reflection” …

She stopped and started walking back to her dad’s room. Opening the door, she said “…a reflection of the majority of the country and at times the darker face of it. Is that the reason why your system is called the BLACK MIRROR?”

First and foremost, my heartiest congratulations to you on being nominated from Bengaluru south as BJP’s Lok Sabha candidate. On the 26th of March, I woke up to this brag-worthy news and trust me, I was extremely delighted to hear about your candidacy. Social media timelines and all the messengers were flooded with posts congratulating you. People had proudly updated their statuses and #TejasviForNewBengaluru was trending. You are a source of inspiration to millions in our country and I am no exception. I was even a part of the volunteer group that you led during the 2014 general elections. Although being initially carried away by your charisma and your 'never say die' attitude, I have major misgivings and differences with your core ideological beliefs and this letter addresses a few of them.

This piece wouldn’t have materialized if not for your campaign slogan, which says - I AM THE YOUTH. You also promised that you will strive your best to be a voice which represents us in the parliament. I seriously wonder how you will successfully row a boat full of youth, having a wide gamut of views and opinions. Along the lines of what L.K. Advani said in his blog, “never regarded those who disagree with us politically as our enemies, but only as our adversaries”. From a bhakth to a member of the TukdeTukde gang, you need to be more accommodative of the sentiments of all.

Let’s now move on to the Crux of the letter. Recently, in one of your speeches, you said that the primary reason for the youth of our country, to have lost interest in active politics during the pre-Modi era, was that the leaders never used to represent them and their aspirations in true sense. I beg to differ on this. It was because of the same reason that we amassed all the strength and stood up against the then incumbent UPA government. And now, influential leaders who are deemed as fire brands are spreading malice, communal hatred and they definitely do not represent the entire population in true sense. But, they give us all the more reason and motivate us to stay constantly aware of the political discourse in our country. They inspire us to render order out of chaos.

Your vision is to make namma Bengaluru a global city like Sydney, London or New York. You have very rightly compared our city to Tel Aviv, for their potential of emerging as startup capitals of the world.
However, in some of your other controversial tweets, you want your party to unapologetically declare itself as a hindu party. Time and again, you have thrown hate towards a certain section of the society.
As much as I want my city to be a global leader, I hate to even imagine it turning into a Muzzaffarnagar of 2013. In the process of becoming a successful leader, I hope you do not indulge in polarization of the society and divisive politics. When you are on a mission to provide a stable, strong and a secure government, the onus is on you not to neglect a certain section of the society, be it religious or moderately opinionated.

In the past you have coupled our ex-vice president, Hamid Ansari, to a 'Shivajinagar bade miya'. It's your prerogative to have a say. You could have chosen a different route to express your discontent. On similar lines, it is highly condemnable when a few people brand Modi to be a 'Dreaded terrorist'. Such shabby remarks on constitutional heads, sends a wrong message to the general public and is extremely injurious to our democracy.

You want our electorate to vote for BJP because every vote for BJP is a vote for Modi. Modi is sure-enough the face of BJP. Then why do you complain when the opposition is teaming up against your leader. The battle this time is definitely 'Modi vs The rest' and if by going against Modi you deem them as anti-Indians, then our country would be reduced to a mere 31% of the electorate. Now’s the Time when I feel like recalling Dr. B.R. Ambedkar’s warning about the future of our democracy. He says, 'Bhakti in religion may be the road to the salvation of a soul. But in politics, Bhakti or hero-worship is a sure road to degradation and to eventual dictatorship.'

No. India was never Indira!
India will never be just Modi.
No party or a leader can ever be considered more than the country.

When asked as to why you haven’t deleted all your controversial tweets, you defended yourself by saying that those were the tweets by a 25-27 year old and that you are maturing as a leader (or the words to that effect). This statement gave me immense confidence to address this letter to you. If you feel that there’s any room for improvement, then do take a note of the above raised concerns. The whole country recognizes you as a fire brand like Yogi adityanath. But I wish you evolve into an unrivalled statesman like Atal Bihari Vajpayee.

I’d like to end this letter by wishing you all the very best on your future endeavors. Since the majority is with you, your juggernaut might roll on and you might emerge victorious with a thumping margin. In the process, try to redeem the trust of the naysayers and most importantly, kindly do not serve us 'the same old wine in a brand new bottle’.

Your fellow bengalurean,
Suraj

Source

Chapter 1

It's voting day in our country and I'm all set to cast my vote for the first time. My name is Aditi and I'm a 19year old, pursuing engineering in Bengaluru. The buzz this time around is no match to 2014 elections (or that's what I've heard from my parents) but that doesn't bring my elan down by even an ounce. Considering the falloff in popularity of Mr. Modi and the hosannas about the new coherent opposition front, we can expect a nail biting finish on the counting day.

I still remember the day in high school when we first read out the Preamble of our constitution aloud.
'WE, THE PEOPLE OF INDIA, having solemnly resolved to constitute India into a SOVEREIGN SOCIALIST SECULAR DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC ...' . These words sent chills up my spine. Every. Single. Time.

Firstly, the very fact that you get to elect your own government and the carefully thought out process of democracy, never fails to intrigue me. Secondly, I'm no sickular, no bhakt and definitely not an aap-tard. I thoroughly oppose the idea of party politics. So, If a candidate comes out clean, produces a legit agenda and seems cosiderably efficient, I would whole-heartedly cast my vote in his favour.

Need to cut this narration for now as I'm running late. Have plans of hitting the gym once I'm done getting inked. Good-bye for now. See y'all on counting day! :)

Chapter 2

So, yesterday morning I woke up to a call from opposition party chief, Siva, who is also my trusted confidant. To give you some background, I had to quit his party since he refused to give me a ticket during the recently concluded elections. I contested from the party which is currently governing and I won by a mammoth margin. Though Siva's party was the single largest party, they unfortunately fell 8 short of obtaining a clear majority. Our party seized the opportunity and joined hands with a regional player to eventually form the government.

BTW, forgot to introduce myself. I'm Aditya, MLA of the land of Virupaksha. This place is not only famous for the temple ruins but also infamous for how it's leader reigns. Rumor has it that here blood flows thicker and quicker than the mighty Tungabhadra River and the black cotton soil veils all the illegit business that's carried out.

Apologies for being carried away. So, Siva called yesterday and made an offer that I couldn't refuse. He offered me 30 crores and pressed pretty hard on my resignation as an MLA. He's making similar demands to various other MLAs and our resignations would make our seats invalid. His party would eventually gain majority.

Here lies the beauty of politics. I see it as an intersection of both power and money on a Venn diagram, and I drool for both, like a hyena would on the sight of a carcass. Being a canny industrialist that I am, I’ve been looking out for an opportunity to reap the profits from the investment I made during elections. Mind you, mixers, grinders, cookers and most importantly booze don’t come for free.

Do I lack ideology? Is there a dearth of ethics in me? I'd say, Absolutely yes. I do not mind setting them ablaze and even flushing down whatever is left behind. And, since I lack ideology, I unapologetically turn a blind eye to party politics.

Phew! That's too much for now. My party leaders are under the assumption that I'm headed to Eagleton Resort. But I'm planning to pull off a Vibhishana or a Brutus in case of Ravana and Caesar respectively. Intentions are clearly not the same. I've accepted Siva's offer and will be resigning in a day or two, proving time and again my area of expertise.

Good-bye for now. And to all my voters, this is all I got to say. Until next elections! (Which is not far off).

Source

Chapter 3

Mortals naturally fear death. Primarily because we have no control over it. We can just prolong it's arrival but cannot prosecute it for trespassing our forte.

I'm no exception to the above category. I fear death but not the dead. I survive by cleansing the earth of the rot that is left behind.

I'm Sampaathi, a vulture.

My jurisdiction is currently restricted to resorts and country clubs. When my superior posted me here, trust me, I felt like I was in no man's land. And fortunately, of late resorts have been the talk of the town. Credits of popularizing these centers go largely to the leaders of political parties. They've also given it a fancy term - Resort politics.

Unlike parliament, their attendance here is a full one-hundred percent. They do not miss an opportunity to increase their proficiency in archery, golf, swimming or other outdoor sports.

You guys might be wondering why I'm hovering over a hangout place where people are having the time of their lives. I'll tell you why.

The arrows held by these inglorious bastards are being pointed at this very dear and powerful pillar. The pillar on which our country firmly stands. The pillar which was so dearly and cautiously laid out by our founding fathers. The pillar called democracy.

These leaders are shamelessly trying to emulate tiger woods and ruthlessly stroking Ideology and Ethics into shitholes.

Aw, the poor citizens who voted these leaders to power are now gasping for breath, looking at them swim so effortlessly. Not to forget another supreme talent that these leaders possess. They play so delightfully with the emotions of the people, rendering them null or void.

With the start of another episode of 'resort politics', I'm eagerly awaiting the mass butchery of DEMOCRACY, IDEOLOGY, ETHICS and EMOTIONS. Spice it up with the blood and sweat of the common man (especially, our founding fathers) and I'm all set for a sumptuous meal.

Ah, I hear some fireworks beneath me. Time for me to sign off. You guys sit back, contemplate on the mistakes committed, or like always, bemoan over the influence of the planets on our country.

Good-bye for now. Until next time! :)

Source

It’s been quite a while since I last published an article (12years and 33 days, to be precise). I still cannot find a reason, valid enough, to justify this break. But now, I’m finding this overwhelming urge to write again and I couldn’t have found a better day to start afresh.

Oh and BTW. Happy New Year!

See, you guys are the first I'm wishing. My wife vehemently refrains from being a part of this celebration. She believes ugadi marks the start of a new year. Valid argument. But I belong to this category of people who don't look out for a reason to celebrate. My 2 year old daughter would have whole-heartedly done this deed if she wasn't lying down, cosily curled on her bed. Anyone who saw her quickly changing pouts and smiles could tell that she was deep in a dream.

This sudden urge to write today comes after a series of unfruitful discussions that we had last evening. This was regarding the school to which we want to get our kid admitted to. I'll narrate both the sides of the story. You guys pass on your advices in the comment section thereupon.

See, a few weeks back the Apex court has passed on a judgement stating that all Only boys/girls schools should open up their gates to everyone irrespective of their gender. This came into picture after a single parent from one of the most progressive states in the country wanted to get her daughter admitted to an all boys institute. This was indeed a private organization. But the Apex court widened it's horizon and gave a general and more holistic verdict. Unsurprisingly, this didn't go down well, with the private organizations staying aggressively reluctant to the court order and remained defiant to open up their gates.

All the wise souls in the country are well informed about this saga. Right? Now, my wife wants our kid to go to this prestigious institution in our neighborhood. It is one those institutes which have disdainfully tarred the Court's order. Albeit being the best in the town, my gut tells me that the school is unsafe. But the iconoclast in my wife chooses to be a rebel in all the spheres of her life.

She argues as to why they accept female teachers alone and not students. This is the moment where I jump into the defence of the school. They have an age-old rule book which they religiously abide by. Apparently, they let only women above the age of 50 to be teachers. Moreover, it's written in their rule book. With what moral authority can we question that? Right? Also, if you ask me, there are myriad of other co-ed schools in the city. So, why only this?

My wife plainly disagrees with this argument.

And When it comes to my choice, I want my kid to get admitted to this co-ed school, a mile away from my place. This premier institution is one of the oldest in town. My dad and I went to this school. Hence, my intention to send my kid to this school is palpably innocent. My wife, on the other hand, vociferously disagrees with my Plan A. I'll tell you why.

So, the administrators are facing a charge filed by the previous board of administrators. They claim that the governing power was taken over in an unjust, unfair and in an illegit way and that the school rightfully belongs to them. The case is pending in the courts since 2014 and surprisingly it gained remarkable traction in the last few years. There’s a huge historical and political hosanna tagged to this school and the current government at the centre has a lot at stake here. Good news is that the judgement will be out in a few days and rumor has it that the previous governing committee members will emerge victorious. I’d say, rightly so!

My wife clearly views this school to be a box of troubles and frightfully unsuitable for our kid. Being the emotional person I am, the bonding with this school is deep-rooted. It's like my second place of birth.
There are myriad of other co-ed schools in the city. So, why only this? Wittily she replayed my own argument.

This brilliant spell of deligently docking or hooking all the bouncers will continue until we peacefully espouse a judgement. Phew! I hate this but I got to go now. Will go knead some atta for the pooris. Plan is to ravenously feast on the vegetable saagu that my wife is preparing.

My daughter is still lying down curled in her bed. I’m eagerly awaiting the day when she gets exposed to this world of complications and moral conundrums. I’ll then introduce her to this freshly brewed filter coffee that I’m savouring now, coz you know, coffee is the cure for all. Meanwhile you guys ponder on our arguments and suggest us the next step that we could take. Your suggestions would mean a world to us.
Go ahead and drop in your messages in the comments section.

Cheers and a happy new year!

Suraj
1/1/2030

P.S.
The schools being referred to in this article are more than just schools. They are…

The coming morning I was helped out of the pit and taken to the nearest hospital. I was unconscious all the while. I was branded a 'PATIENT' soon as my name was registered in the hospital records. Two hours later, the doctor operating me was requesting my family(my wife and my 5 year old son) to have a last look at my 'BODY' (Yes. From a phase of being a 'healthy person', to being branded a 'patient' and now being reffered to as just a 'body', I have lived through them all and apparently, a 'body' is all that is left behind!).

I guess, it's time to reveal my identity. I'm Ajeya Sharma (Ah! Who am I kidding? I can never be 'sharma-ji ka beta'). I'm Ajeya Chuhra, a 'Manual Scavenger' by profession. I belong to the Valmiki community (deemed to be one of the poorest commities in our country). My father noticed my character as a kid and named me, Ajeya, meaning unstoppable. Little did he know that I was born with a limp. The limp that was my caste.

Dr. Ambedkar rightly said, "In India, a man is not a scavenger because of his work. He is a scavenger because of his birth, irrespective of the question whether he does scavenging or not”.

I was mentally and socially disabled when I was born into this caste.
I remained illiterate. Courtesy-my caste.
I was socially excluded and had to migrate to Delhi in search of employment opportunities, all thanks to my caste.
My lungs were broken beyond repair because of the repugnant stench that unleashed it's vicious form, from the sanitary pits, dry latrines and the septic tanks.

The doctor's report stated myocardial infarction to be the immediate cause for my death. He barely knew my lifestory, if at all.

NEWS FLASH: 5 young men die while cleaning a septic tank in Delhi.

Evidently, I'm not the only Spartan battling this lethal filth. In fact, reports say at least one 'manual scavenger' dies every five days in our country. As per 2011 census, there are around 8 lakh households across the country from which human excreta is removed by a person (from a dry toilet).

Has this never come under judicial scrutiny? Yes, it has. The Employment of Manual Scavengers and Construction of Dry Latrines (Prohibition) Act, 1993, when it was announced, gave us some hope. Sadly, it remained inoperative for over three and a half years. Even after it was brought into effect it was only applicable to a few states that were mentioned in the act. Apart from it’s narrow reach, the act provided inadequate punishment to the wrong-doer. This failure led to much furore and as a result of which, another act was introduced. The Prohibition of Employment of Manual Scavengers and their Rehabilitation Act, which was passed in 2013, explicitly recognized the deep-rooted caste based discrimination that propagated manual scavenging. It further focuses on rehabilitation by providing us, amongst other things, training for other jobs and cash assistance.

But the law, like many other legislations was not efficaciously implemented. The 8lakh (or whatever!) households with dry latrines bears testament to it's failure.

Next in line is the flagship program of the current government, Swachh Bharat Abhiyan. Undoubtedly a step in the right direction. We need to make our country free from open defecation. True. Hence, we need to build toilets. And who'll clean them? The Chuhras or the Bhangis?(or Dalits in general). The Abhiyan can be successful only if it ackonwledges the need for not just building toilets but also avoiding the manual effort that is involved in treating the waste produced. Else, it'll be reduced to a mere hyperbole.

NEWS FLASH: Protestors gather in large numbers at Jantar Mantar (Delhi) and Town Hall(Bengaluru) to mourn the death of 'manual scavengers'.

It’s quite unfortunate to witness these gloomy scenes unravel in front of my eyes. Because, I’m not dead. You’ve all resurrected me. I’m living through your voices. My soul will not rest in peace until I emerge triumphant in the battle against this grotesque ghoul, Manual scavenging. Let’s remind people that employing any person to clean their filth is a punishable offense and prompt most of our leaders (particularly our prime minister) that this dastardly act is not -as they term it to be- a SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE.

Rebel On!

Image Courtesy-India Today.