The timing of “Radiagate” couldn’t have been more strategically inopportune. Far from Lobbying providing a shot in the arm to economic development, we shall now move a dozen steps away from legitimizing lobbying. There are various reasons why we need streamlined and organized lobbying today.
For starters, there is a not-so-subtle difference between a “lobbyist” and a “fixer”. Lobbyists are meant to leverage their knowledge of policy, international best practices and procedural loopholes to influence the moving parts that determine regulation. While I have not listened to all the available “Radiagate” tapes, some of them do seem to reveal an objective, no-nonsense approach with a comprehensive understanding of all arms of the power establishment. There was reasoning behind most of her persuasion attempts as opposed to sycophancy. In case she has gone on to merely grease palms for achieving her end-objectives, she has in effect gone on to nullify what she brought to the table. There is after all no dearth of “agents” who could comfortably lug currency filled suitcases to the relevant LBZ addresses. There are few though who can straddle between the likes of an urbane Vir Sanghvi and a "son-of-the-soil" A Raja with equal ease. (not to mention comfortable parleys with Ratan Tata himself). This skill, coupled with subject matter expertise on chosen industries is what ought to have singularly set her apart. From the looks of it, she chose to widen her “proposition” by possibly breaking the law in addition to influencing it. That is disappointing because it seems needless.
The need for organized lobbying gathers further import if one examines our governance structure. At one level we have elected politicians who are the public face of policy making. The nuts and bolts though are managed by bureaucrats who are typically drawn in from the civil services. The nature of this service imparts superior administrative skills, diverse assignments and an unmatched understanding of the ground realities confronting governance. What it fails to provide though is deep understanding of the more complex and technical issues around some of the new economy industries. Managing these invariably calls for some level of specialization given their very nature and relative nascency on the evolution charts. The need for an expert to influence policy therefore becomes more pronounced.
Governments have historically appointed “consultants” for this purpose. Some empanel big names who churn out lengthy reports which I suspect are seldom read. Others appoint their former bosses as consultants and generate income for them. This becomes a self-serving practice as subsequent incumbents are also meant to follow suit and the consequence is rather malignant. Lobbyists would perhaps engage with similar consultants but distil the relevant stuff and convert it into something more actionable for both, their principal and the policy maker.
Our socialist conscience seems fairly shocked at senior journalists proposing scripted interviews. It is par for the course in developed economies. George Bush launched his autobiography recently and followed it up with a series of rather obviously scripted interviews with “hard nosed” TV journalists. In fact there were TV debates on whether some of the scripting had gone a bit too far since the wit on display seemed too misplaced to be spontaneous. Interviews are an integral part of a PR exercise and TV Channels are as focused on bottomline as public service. To expect journalists to remain eternal Holy Cows was a wee bit optimistic. Sooner than later, treachery around the hitherto sacrosanct omerta was inevitable.
Make no mistake I am not even remotely suggesting that lobbyists of the Niira Radia variety are misunderstood angels. The moot point is the emergent need for part of her skill-sets making an important contribution to the changing nature of the economy. Sadly, a public revelation of her seemingly devious attempts at maneuvers in territory that ought to have been out of her designated domain shall be a setback for “legitimate” lobbyists (if any) for a long time.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Supreme Circus
The Supreme Court of India's decision to defer the Babri Masjid verdict by the Allahabad High Court is dangerously mindless. While I am relatively ignorant of the legal technicalities, here is why I believe this could have far-reaching and unhealthy consequences:
- While the Judiciary is grappling with debates around executive interference and questions around integrity of judges of superior courts, such a confused signal from the highest court in the country is what we needed least. Part of a Court's primary function is to resolve disputes between individuals and/or groups. To throw the ball back in their court (pun unintended) for a solution questions the very need for a judicial system to exist. That this should revolve around a High Court judgement makes it even more baffling given the wide-ranging powers conferred to High Courts by Article 226 of the Constitution.
- The logic behind the postponement seems even more preposterous. Judicial discipline is meant to ensure judgements are made in keeping with the law of the land with scant (or rather, NIL) regard for social or political ramifications. Implementing verdicts and reigning in their consequences are part of the Executive and Legislative purview. If courts were to now factor in law & order issues and similar fallouts, it will lead to significant weakening of judicial resolve. If this were to become the order of the day, it may be impossible to dismiss unlawfully formed governments, convict those accused of communally sensitive crimes and the like.
- Lastly, loose remarks around convoluted circumvention of potential show-stoppers like impending retirement of a sitting judge does not befit courtrooms in The Supreme Court. Surprisingly, the legal fraternity does not seem to be protesting against this irrational decision to admit a ludicrous petition with the kind of decibel levels one had expected.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Coffee Anyone?
As a self-styled bloke, I am a natural fan of "The International Rules of Blokedom" (Google it for details). One of the 2 additions that I have sought to make to this list of interesting rules is- "A Bloke shall not be seen in a coffee bar post sundown". (there is another on bacardi-drinking men but more on that later). Frankly, for a long time I never saw reason to visit say Barista pre sundown either. Domestic pressures around numerous flanks have prompted a climbdown in stance albeit with the Blokedom Rule remaining intact. One such visit was to "Gloria Jeans Coffee" in the neighbourhood over the weekend.
As we neared the cafe (with its Devnagiri signage if you please), we encountered a couple purposefully strolling in armed with a book each in hand. I was a trifle perplexed at the need to catch up on reading in a public place over a weekend but there was a first in store after all. It was my first glimpse of a hard-bound P G Wodehouse. At the risk of sounding tacky, I guess "coffee-table books" have given way to "coffee shop editions". Having placed our order, we seated ourselves in the outdoor section of the cafe since all the seats inside were taken by similar couples deeply engrossed in "reading".
I noticed a long-haired, bearded gent (mysteriously, 70% of all men in coffee shops seem to wear beards) gesticulating wildly with his arms. Initially, I thought he was trying to indicate an open door or a wobbly tyre to a motorist opposite. To my amazement, he was actually practicing (or maybe "composing") a music score! It seemed as if noisy automobiles whizzing past him whilst honking away to glory, did wonders for his concentration. Or perhaps, the positive creative energy that a cafe's ambience generates is completely lost on me.
More was in store. In walked a bald gent sporting a mane inspired directly by Professor Calculus. Just as I was reconciling to his err, "unusual" appearance, I noticed he was not fully bald after all. At the rear of his head, there lay a carefully cropped, square tuft of hair ostensibly as his trademark style statement!
I could go on and on about the number of bizarre sights and sounds that I encountered in a mere 45 minutes. But lets come to the point. Firstly, my blokedom rule stands reinforced with the rider around sundown too being deleted. Second, coffee bars join the long list of impressive marketing stories that have succeeded in creating an intellectual imagery around themselves. Gone are the college kids lounging around over numerous cappucinos for the sake of being in air-conditioned environs. Weird souls with a crying need to publicize their intellectual pretensions seem to have taken over, at least part of the space.
A caveat- I retain rights to think of myself as a bloke despite future trips to coffee bars. A little hypocrisy is well worth it for the sake of domestic bliss.
As we neared the cafe (with its Devnagiri signage if you please), we encountered a couple purposefully strolling in armed with a book each in hand. I was a trifle perplexed at the need to catch up on reading in a public place over a weekend but there was a first in store after all. It was my first glimpse of a hard-bound P G Wodehouse. At the risk of sounding tacky, I guess "coffee-table books" have given way to "coffee shop editions". Having placed our order, we seated ourselves in the outdoor section of the cafe since all the seats inside were taken by similar couples deeply engrossed in "reading".
I noticed a long-haired, bearded gent (mysteriously, 70% of all men in coffee shops seem to wear beards) gesticulating wildly with his arms. Initially, I thought he was trying to indicate an open door or a wobbly tyre to a motorist opposite. To my amazement, he was actually practicing (or maybe "composing") a music score! It seemed as if noisy automobiles whizzing past him whilst honking away to glory, did wonders for his concentration. Or perhaps, the positive creative energy that a cafe's ambience generates is completely lost on me.
More was in store. In walked a bald gent sporting a mane inspired directly by Professor Calculus. Just as I was reconciling to his err, "unusual" appearance, I noticed he was not fully bald after all. At the rear of his head, there lay a carefully cropped, square tuft of hair ostensibly as his trademark style statement!
I could go on and on about the number of bizarre sights and sounds that I encountered in a mere 45 minutes. But lets come to the point. Firstly, my blokedom rule stands reinforced with the rider around sundown too being deleted. Second, coffee bars join the long list of impressive marketing stories that have succeeded in creating an intellectual imagery around themselves. Gone are the college kids lounging around over numerous cappucinos for the sake of being in air-conditioned environs. Weird souls with a crying need to publicize their intellectual pretensions seem to have taken over, at least part of the space.
A caveat- I retain rights to think of myself as a bloke despite future trips to coffee bars. A little hypocrisy is well worth it for the sake of domestic bliss.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
90-day itch
We complete 90-days in our Mumbai apartment today. While we are still "breaking-in" and before one becomes a full-fledged turncoat, I cant help reminisce about some of the stuff we really miss about Delhi.
Late night drives have been the first casualty. First attempt was the Mount Mary- Bandstand-Carter Road circuit. I lost count but I think we had a near-miss with 4 pavement dwellers and about half a dozen night birds who in their craving for ice-cream, kulfi and the like seemed to mindlessly cross roads with little or no regard for oncoming traffic. The following week we embarked on the "real deal" i.e. Haji-Ali-Marine Drive etc. 4th gear was a luxury as one had to indulge in peak hour concentration since traffic was near bumper to bumper (at 1 a.m.if you please). Give me the Safdarjang Road-Krishna Menon Marg-Akbar Road-Rajpath combination any day. The luxury of a leisurely drive amidst the pretty boulevards with colonial bungalows lining the wide roads (and scores of stately monuments thrown in) is unmatched.
The search for good quality, non 5-star Indian Food has proved endless and horribly futile. It was best summed up by the experience of a friend who asked for Indian options in South Mumbai and ended up in the same restaurant for the 5th sraight time since it was the only option given to him by everyone he checked with each time! I am also struggling with the logic of landing up in fine-dining places in shorts but more on that another day. There has been a positive fallout on the health front though. Like a true East Indian, sunday lunches were always meant to be rice and mutton curry. I now seldom consume red-meat given the bony, lifeless meat on sale in most shops here. Again we did the round of recommended shops all across town before deciding that mutton consumption shall be restricted to Delhi trips (where one is spoilt with succulent meat with a wide option of cuts). Curiously, shops in Mumbai find fame not basis quality of goods/service/ambience but on the parameter of most famous customer. So one is typically directed to "Katrina Kaif's florist" or " Saif Ali Khan's mechanic".
A reluctant mall-goer like Yours Truly was successfully persuaded to drive to one of the fancier malls in town a few weeks ago. My spirited dash to the mall was literally stopped in its tracks with a delayed realisation that I had actually missed a mile-long queue of cars waiting to enter! I was certain my "DL" number plate prompted a slew of curses centring around the Capital as I insisted on nonchalantly jumping the queue. But the saga of queues had only just begun and its unlikely I am returning in a hurry. A subsequent weekend trip to Delhi made the Vasant Kunj malls (that I once scorned) feel like the ultimate in luxury.
There are scores of similarities too. If you thought only delhi-ites could call "Kamla Nagar" as "K-Nags", Mumbaikars are not be left behind. Hence, "South Bombay" is "So-Bo", in fact to the point of being cliched now. And while I reside in an apartment complex that is far from being upscale, I own the smallest car in the parking lot. So much for dilli-wallas being the "big-car showoffs".
Late night drives have been the first casualty. First attempt was the Mount Mary- Bandstand-Carter Road circuit. I lost count but I think we had a near-miss with 4 pavement dwellers and about half a dozen night birds who in their craving for ice-cream, kulfi and the like seemed to mindlessly cross roads with little or no regard for oncoming traffic. The following week we embarked on the "real deal" i.e. Haji-Ali-Marine Drive etc. 4th gear was a luxury as one had to indulge in peak hour concentration since traffic was near bumper to bumper (at 1 a.m.if you please). Give me the Safdarjang Road-Krishna Menon Marg-Akbar Road-Rajpath combination any day. The luxury of a leisurely drive amidst the pretty boulevards with colonial bungalows lining the wide roads (and scores of stately monuments thrown in) is unmatched.
The search for good quality, non 5-star Indian Food has proved endless and horribly futile. It was best summed up by the experience of a friend who asked for Indian options in South Mumbai and ended up in the same restaurant for the 5th sraight time since it was the only option given to him by everyone he checked with each time! I am also struggling with the logic of landing up in fine-dining places in shorts but more on that another day. There has been a positive fallout on the health front though. Like a true East Indian, sunday lunches were always meant to be rice and mutton curry. I now seldom consume red-meat given the bony, lifeless meat on sale in most shops here. Again we did the round of recommended shops all across town before deciding that mutton consumption shall be restricted to Delhi trips (where one is spoilt with succulent meat with a wide option of cuts). Curiously, shops in Mumbai find fame not basis quality of goods/service/ambience but on the parameter of most famous customer. So one is typically directed to "Katrina Kaif's florist" or " Saif Ali Khan's mechanic".
A reluctant mall-goer like Yours Truly was successfully persuaded to drive to one of the fancier malls in town a few weeks ago. My spirited dash to the mall was literally stopped in its tracks with a delayed realisation that I had actually missed a mile-long queue of cars waiting to enter! I was certain my "DL" number plate prompted a slew of curses centring around the Capital as I insisted on nonchalantly jumping the queue. But the saga of queues had only just begun and its unlikely I am returning in a hurry. A subsequent weekend trip to Delhi made the Vasant Kunj malls (that I once scorned) feel like the ultimate in luxury.
There are scores of similarities too. If you thought only delhi-ites could call "Kamla Nagar" as "K-Nags", Mumbaikars are not be left behind. Hence, "South Bombay" is "So-Bo", in fact to the point of being cliched now. And while I reside in an apartment complex that is far from being upscale, I own the smallest car in the parking lot. So much for dilli-wallas being the "big-car showoffs".
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Waste of time in Mumbai
The Mafia they say was born in a Port. Having grown up in one, I therefore harbour an irrationally unhealthy keenness in the underworld. (my bookshelf provides damning evidence). My subject-matter interest coupled with a recent vow to watch more than my standard average of 4 movies a year had me book tickets for "Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai". My first mistake was to dismiss the discouraging newspaper review as the handiwork of an ill-equipped journalist. I went on to ignore a bad omen. It was only the 23rd auto-rickshaw we hailed that reluctantly agreed to ferry us to the cinema. (I am now enlightened with the information that auto-drivers need significant financial incentives to make the journey from Bandra West to Bandra East).
At the end of a damp first half which just about managed to give a loose sketch of the principal characters, I braced for the real drama to commence. An hour later, a few exciting events occurred which convinced me the turning point was (for lack of a better phrase) round the corner. To my amazement, the lights came on and the movie had ended! I sprang in my seat, shocked at the complete absence of a meaningful plot whatsoever.
Word-of-mouth had over-ridden the newspaper review. I was assured of a "riveting" performance by Ajay Devgan (sorry "Devgn"). He might have well been mouthing those corny one-liners into a mirror given the absolute lack of context. It was amusing to see an Emran Hashmi copy Devgn's theatrical demeanour and then a confused Randeep Hooda alternately ape both of them. The movie is meant to have been set in the 70s with the only visible throwback to that decade being the cliched automobiles. Even the whisky being poured seemed to be "Grants" as opposed to Vat 69, the quintessential favourite of that generation, at least in the movies.
I have to conclude by conceding that the seats in Cinemax- Bandra (EAST I hasten to reiterate) are by far the most comfortable and luxurious that I have ever occupied in my limited exposure to Cinemas across the country. I just wish it was located in Bhubaneswar, in which case I would have had access to far more interesting beverages than Coke to cope with this eminently forgettable movie. As regards those whose "word of mouth" I relied on to brave the irritating rains to make the rare journey to a Cinema, guess I now know who my real friends are.
At the end of a damp first half which just about managed to give a loose sketch of the principal characters, I braced for the real drama to commence. An hour later, a few exciting events occurred which convinced me the turning point was (for lack of a better phrase) round the corner. To my amazement, the lights came on and the movie had ended! I sprang in my seat, shocked at the complete absence of a meaningful plot whatsoever.
Word-of-mouth had over-ridden the newspaper review. I was assured of a "riveting" performance by Ajay Devgan (sorry "Devgn"). He might have well been mouthing those corny one-liners into a mirror given the absolute lack of context. It was amusing to see an Emran Hashmi copy Devgn's theatrical demeanour and then a confused Randeep Hooda alternately ape both of them. The movie is meant to have been set in the 70s with the only visible throwback to that decade being the cliched automobiles. Even the whisky being poured seemed to be "Grants" as opposed to Vat 69, the quintessential favourite of that generation, at least in the movies.
I have to conclude by conceding that the seats in Cinemax- Bandra (EAST I hasten to reiterate) are by far the most comfortable and luxurious that I have ever occupied in my limited exposure to Cinemas across the country. I just wish it was located in Bhubaneswar, in which case I would have had access to far more interesting beverages than Coke to cope with this eminently forgettable movie. As regards those whose "word of mouth" I relied on to brave the irritating rains to make the rare journey to a Cinema, guess I now know who my real friends are.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The True American Spirit
Attached link leads to an article I wrote recently on Bourbon. Was published in the last issue of India Today Spice.
http://indiatoday.intoday.in/site/Story/106167/the-true-american-spirit.html?page=0
Cheers
http://indiatoday.intoday.in/site/Story/106167/the-true-american-spirit.html?page=0
Cheers
Monday, July 26, 2010
In-"Fali"-ble
I just concluded reading "Before Memory Fades", the autobiography of eminent lawyer Fali Nariman. It is certainly recommended reading not just for people involved or interested in the legal system but anyone keen on a glimpse of the country's political history post independence through the lens of a jurist. For someone relatively ignorant of nuances of law like yours truly, this book serves as a useful starting point and has been remarkably enlightening.
What is striking though is that despite the author being someone as erudite and acclaimedly articulate as Nariman, the writing is in refreshingly comprehensible English (the odd usage of words like "ratiocination" notwithstanding). I guess there lies the test of a good writer when it comes to telling a story or conveying a powerful message. Too often many of us succumb to the temptation of hiding behind vocabulary to conceal a weak (or absent) point of view. I learnt it the hard way a few weeks ago when an article I was attempting to write for a newsmagazine was summarily dismissed by the editor since it just did not "talk to the reader".
There is an irritating flip side too. For a man known for his sharp legal wizardry but certainly not for modesty, Nariman resorts to needless self-deprecation. His inverse "humility" in the context of several other legal luminaries almost insults the intelligence of the reader. Also, while he has mildly criticized a few judges, he has ensured most of them are too far gone in history to be relevant any longer. A little more contemporary candour would have been welcome.
While reiterating my reccomendation for this important autobiography, I cant help commenting that Mr Nariman could have chosen a slightly more ingenious title (there are at least half a dozen similar works with an identical title).
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Mumbai Ahoy
I now have a legitimate Mumbai pin code as my address proof. Given how attached I am to the country's capital, most of my friends and family had greeted my announcement of relocation with much scepticism and disbelief. My first 2 weeks have been better than expected. One does not live in a place as cramped as one had braced for and there is enough greenery around one's nest to stay continously reminded of Delhi. "Reverse traffic" ensures a smooth ride to work and a tolerable ride back. However, the much touted "everyday professionalism" in Mumbai is pure fiction. Sample all that one has been subjected to in the first 2 weeks:
- The Meru cab failed to land up TWICE! The missus was instructed to ask for directions herself since it was she who was keen to reach the annointed destination. On another instance she was persuaded by a cab driver to cover the remaining leg of her journey in an auto-rickshaw since it was presumably beneath his dignity to be caught in traffic in the suburbs (or " 'burbs " as some pretentitious folks refer to it).
- Our maid never lands up on time. On day-1 she landed up an hour later than scheduled. Its now down to 15-20 minutes with a follow- up phone call every alternate day. Ditto for the painter, electrician, appliances delivery folks etc. (there is our efficent carpenter who is remarkably punctual but any praise directed at him draws sniggers around parochialism since he hails from a place called Behrampur in Orissa)
- An electrician tried to con me into paying installation charges (when I had a deal for free installation) and promptly retreated when I showed him the bill. The trophy though goes out to the guy from the Internet Service Provider who summoned me back home (when he had landed up 45 minutes before schedule) since it was his birthday and he was getting delayed! I obliged only to be kept waiting since he was busy receiving birthday wish calls from his numerous girlfriends. My patience ran out in 10 minutes and I showed him the door.
- Auto-rickshaw & cab drivers alike jump traffic signals with elan. I do not mention BEST buses because they do not even acknowledge the existence of signals so they are perhaps unaware they are jumping them.
None of this would shock any of us in any part of the country. And that's my point. When it comes to efficiency or work ethic, Mumbai is no different from any other part of the country. It could be periodic degeneration over time though scores of locals insist we are just having a run of poor luck and things are indeed much better. If that be the case, be prepared for a volte-face blog post sometime soon.
One stark change from the past is that most taxi drivers invariably claim to be from Maharashtra. More power to MNS!
- The Meru cab failed to land up TWICE! The missus was instructed to ask for directions herself since it was she who was keen to reach the annointed destination. On another instance she was persuaded by a cab driver to cover the remaining leg of her journey in an auto-rickshaw since it was presumably beneath his dignity to be caught in traffic in the suburbs (or " 'burbs " as some pretentitious folks refer to it).
- Our maid never lands up on time. On day-1 she landed up an hour later than scheduled. Its now down to 15-20 minutes with a follow- up phone call every alternate day. Ditto for the painter, electrician, appliances delivery folks etc. (there is our efficent carpenter who is remarkably punctual but any praise directed at him draws sniggers around parochialism since he hails from a place called Behrampur in Orissa)
- An electrician tried to con me into paying installation charges (when I had a deal for free installation) and promptly retreated when I showed him the bill. The trophy though goes out to the guy from the Internet Service Provider who summoned me back home (when he had landed up 45 minutes before schedule) since it was his birthday and he was getting delayed! I obliged only to be kept waiting since he was busy receiving birthday wish calls from his numerous girlfriends. My patience ran out in 10 minutes and I showed him the door.
- Auto-rickshaw & cab drivers alike jump traffic signals with elan. I do not mention BEST buses because they do not even acknowledge the existence of signals so they are perhaps unaware they are jumping them.
None of this would shock any of us in any part of the country. And that's my point. When it comes to efficiency or work ethic, Mumbai is no different from any other part of the country. It could be periodic degeneration over time though scores of locals insist we are just having a run of poor luck and things are indeed much better. If that be the case, be prepared for a volte-face blog post sometime soon.
One stark change from the past is that most taxi drivers invariably claim to be from Maharashtra. More power to MNS!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Tweeter-less on Raisina Hill
Having read most of Shashi Tharoor's works (and numerous newspaper columns), I have always been impressed by the breadth of his interests, deep research and ability to communicate in a tone that was refreshingly unusual. (I confess my ignorance of his achievements in the United Nations).My admiration for him grew several notches when he chose to enter Parliament by slugging it out in the rough and tumble of electoral politics as opposed to the more conventional back-door routes employed by the privileged lot. I have been disappointed by him twice:
Let me get over and done with the less relevant one first. In one of his books- "Bookless in Baghdad", Tharoor has chosen to write a retort to a sharply critical review by Shobha De of one of his earlier publications, "Show Business". While I can't help concede that Show Business is an eminently forgettable tome, a writer of Tharoor's stature need not have stooped to level with a saucy, publicity-seeking mass manufacturer of lurid pulp fiction.
His recent Twitter posts with a stance against numerous government actions have left me disappointed. To voice private disagreements in a broader forum while one holds public office is distasteful and highly unbecoming of someone with Tharoor's perceived calibre. To walk and execute the house view is a basic expectation from anyone entrusted with any form of responsibility, not to mention a position of national (and perhaps international) import. Why would an acclaimed prodigy with numerous & wide ranging accomplishments under his belt seemingly lose the plot ?
Part of the answer probably lies in Tharoor's intellectual arrogance relative to the polity (for evidence of this trait one must read his scathing criticism of R K Narayan's "lack of command" over the Queen's language). He seems to have fallen prey to the mistaken belief that academic pedigree coupled with professional success equals superior intelligence. Mass leaders (who have exceptional compartments of cerebral excellence in their own right) typically lull the brown sahibs into this false sense of complacency.
Tharoor also seems to be gambling with periodic acts of professional indiscretion with an eye towards creating a crusader image for himself with the impressionable middle class. The calibrated nature of his "dissent" coupled with timely retreats when faced with rebuke from the sanctum sanctorum reeks of clinical brinkmanship. If Tharoor indeed believes he can pull this off to create a larger than life persona for himself in the Rahul Gandhi era, I would tend to conclude that megalomania has scalped yet another bright soul.
Let me get over and done with the less relevant one first. In one of his books- "Bookless in Baghdad", Tharoor has chosen to write a retort to a sharply critical review by Shobha De of one of his earlier publications, "Show Business". While I can't help concede that Show Business is an eminently forgettable tome, a writer of Tharoor's stature need not have stooped to level with a saucy, publicity-seeking mass manufacturer of lurid pulp fiction.
His recent Twitter posts with a stance against numerous government actions have left me disappointed. To voice private disagreements in a broader forum while one holds public office is distasteful and highly unbecoming of someone with Tharoor's perceived calibre. To walk and execute the house view is a basic expectation from anyone entrusted with any form of responsibility, not to mention a position of national (and perhaps international) import. Why would an acclaimed prodigy with numerous & wide ranging accomplishments under his belt seemingly lose the plot ?
Part of the answer probably lies in Tharoor's intellectual arrogance relative to the polity (for evidence of this trait one must read his scathing criticism of R K Narayan's "lack of command" over the Queen's language). He seems to have fallen prey to the mistaken belief that academic pedigree coupled with professional success equals superior intelligence. Mass leaders (who have exceptional compartments of cerebral excellence in their own right) typically lull the brown sahibs into this false sense of complacency.
Tharoor also seems to be gambling with periodic acts of professional indiscretion with an eye towards creating a crusader image for himself with the impressionable middle class. The calibrated nature of his "dissent" coupled with timely retreats when faced with rebuke from the sanctum sanctorum reeks of clinical brinkmanship. If Tharoor indeed believes he can pull this off to create a larger than life persona for himself in the Rahul Gandhi era, I would tend to conclude that megalomania has scalped yet another bright soul.
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