One more attack has come and gone, and all too familiar scenes are replaying themselves. The buck is being generously passed around, no party is willing to admit a lapse of any sort, and the miscreants are willingly claiming responsibility for the hideous act, perhaps secure in the knowledge that there are few chances of their being at the receiving end of any sort of punishment. We keep the accused in prisons, nourish them on taxpayers’ money, debate death sentences, and promptly return to the starting point.
This time, the group claiming responsibility for the blasts is one from Bangladesh. The Prime Minister has just returned from a trip to the country, and of course several pacts would have been signed. Who loves their neighbours better than we do? The sharing of the waters of the river Teesta was the point of contention between the PM and West Bengal CM Mamata Banerjee; it was cited as the reason for her withdrawal from the Bangladesh trip. But she isn’t the only unhappy person. The agreement on the waiver of tax duties on the import of certain kinds of textiles from Bangladesh has small-scale clothing manufacturers in India up in arms. They worry that goods from Bangladesh will flood the Indian market, and the costs of their production being lower than those here spell tough times for small Indian manufacturers.
While we persist in our efforts to appease our neighbours, why can’t we simultaneously adopt a tough stance on issues of national security? The lack of CCTVs and functioning metal detectors is just one visible lapse; using the excuse of the blast having taken place in a public area and not on the premises of the High Court is a sign of weakness. Is security supposed to be restricted only to the anointed? The verbal slugfests that immediately follow any major incident only worsen the situation, and VIPs ought to know that people are no longer taken in by the hand-holding and sympathising. Patience is running low. That no lessons have been learnt from recent incidents is extremely evident; we continue to worry about our image on the world stage and the signals we send out in the way we treat the accused. The damning statements in Wikileaks on how David Coleman Headley’s extradition was viewed only as an attempt to placate the Indian public show just how serious we are about bringing criminals to book.
India needs a drastic image change. This will not come from mere speeches condemning terrorism, but from action that accompanies and justifies the words. It’s high time we stopped being just impressive orators.
Showing posts with label In India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label In India. Show all posts
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Awakening A Sleeping Giant
A long line of people snaked down the length of the Coromandel Express at Howrah, waiting to board the general compartments for the much-anticipated journey home, or perhaps an emergency visit. Policemen made sure the people were in queue, not pushing and shoving, a lesson thankfully learnt from stampedes that have had some terrible results in the past. Comfortably ensconced in our compartment, we had the luxury to look around and watch the crowds milling on the platform; what of those, then, who have to camp out at the station for days and nights, waiting for an elusive ticket to go home to their loved ones? The chaos that descends on a platform when a long-distance train pulls into the station is almost maddening. We have a railway system that needs to muster all possible resources to carry to and fro the uncountable number of people who use its services everyday. A large number of lives, mostly those of families’ breadwinners, are in the hands of those at the helm; but responsibility is a bitter pill. Since the departure of Mamata Banerjee from the post of Railway Minister to take charge as the Chief Minister of West Bengal, the Prime Minister has assumed additional charge of the Railway Ministry. It was only yesterday, when the Cabinet reshuffle was announced, that the TMC’s Dinesh Trivedi was named Railway Minister.
While we prepared to board our train at Howrah, the arrival of the Howrah-Kalka-Delhi Mail was announced. Did a shudder run through the crowds thronging the station? Did their minds linger on the photographs of mangled compartments and the stories of the search for survivors of the accident that befell the Kalka Mail on Sunday? The papers in West Bengal are full of quotes from the Bengal-based relatives of those on board that ill-fated train, people trying frantically to ascertain if their friends/families were aboard it, which compartments they were travelling in, searching desperately for any information at all. Two Swedish nationals were among the 67 people killed in the accident, and a third was seriously injured. Reparation will be offered, of course, in the form of the usual monetary packages. What makes this accident a matter of immediate concern is that it wasn’t a one-off mishap; a bomb blast on the tracks caused the Guwahati-Puri Express to derail on Sunday, injuring over a hundred people, and a collision between a train and a bus on July 7 at an unmanned crossing in Kanshiram Nagar, Uttar Pradesh killed 38 people and injured 31. However, life goes on as the trains continue to make mammoth journeys across the country, caution and safety left resting in the hands of the powers that be, because not everyone has the means to choose an alternative mode of travel. For the people coming from the rural hinterlands of the country, travelling far and wide for work, trains, specifically the lower-priced classes, provide about the only means of transport.
The cause of the Kalka Mail accident is still not clear, responsibility isn’t being pinned on any one party yet. The MoS for Railways, Mukul Roy, expected to make a visit to the site of the Assam incident, chose to go to Jangalmahal with Mamata Banerjee instead, claiming that the situation there was under control and his presence wasn’t needed. Dinesh Trivedi, on his first day as Railway Minister, is going through perhaps one of his toughest challenges. How do you answer the families of the deceased, what explanation do you give for three accidents in a row, all of which could possibly have been averted? Safety has to come first on any list; admittedly, there are endless kilometres of tracks stretching out all over the country, but that is why we also have a body committed to maintaining it and ensuring that people reach their destinations safely.
The blueprint for the High-Speed railway system to be in place in China by 2015 presents a study in contrast. The new Beijing-Shanghai High-Speed Railway, equipped to deal with the snowstorms that play havoc with the system during the peak festival periods, which is also when large numbers of people travel home, covers the distance of 1318 km at 300 kmph, making a round trip possible in a single day. Empty trains travel in the morning from each direction to ensure the safety of the line, a task made imperative by the fact that these trains reach a top speed of 350 kmph. Proper and fast connectivity seems to be the top priorities of Chinese railway authorities, but in no way do they compromise on safety. They handle massive amounts of traffic, just like the Indian railways; but were a major accident to take place, would it take this long to find out the root cause of the problem and make sure it doesn’t repeat itself? Lessons aren’t learnt easily in India, though: a fault was detected in the axle of the pantry car of the Bhubaneswar- New Delhi Rajdhani Express, and a major accident was averted, but this inspection took place only at Tatanagar. The blame for the lapse was laid on the East Coast Railway.
That the different zones of the railways should work in conjunction with one another shouldn’t be too much to ask. The horrific casualties of three different accidents in one week should serve as a massive jolt to the slumber that seems to have set in. Importantly, the people concerned should accept responsibility for their areas and work towards enforcing the necessary regulations. It isn’t difficult; it just requires systematic and honest work.
While we prepared to board our train at Howrah, the arrival of the Howrah-Kalka-Delhi Mail was announced. Did a shudder run through the crowds thronging the station? Did their minds linger on the photographs of mangled compartments and the stories of the search for survivors of the accident that befell the Kalka Mail on Sunday? The papers in West Bengal are full of quotes from the Bengal-based relatives of those on board that ill-fated train, people trying frantically to ascertain if their friends/families were aboard it, which compartments they were travelling in, searching desperately for any information at all. Two Swedish nationals were among the 67 people killed in the accident, and a third was seriously injured. Reparation will be offered, of course, in the form of the usual monetary packages. What makes this accident a matter of immediate concern is that it wasn’t a one-off mishap; a bomb blast on the tracks caused the Guwahati-Puri Express to derail on Sunday, injuring over a hundred people, and a collision between a train and a bus on July 7 at an unmanned crossing in Kanshiram Nagar, Uttar Pradesh killed 38 people and injured 31. However, life goes on as the trains continue to make mammoth journeys across the country, caution and safety left resting in the hands of the powers that be, because not everyone has the means to choose an alternative mode of travel. For the people coming from the rural hinterlands of the country, travelling far and wide for work, trains, specifically the lower-priced classes, provide about the only means of transport.
The cause of the Kalka Mail accident is still not clear, responsibility isn’t being pinned on any one party yet. The MoS for Railways, Mukul Roy, expected to make a visit to the site of the Assam incident, chose to go to Jangalmahal with Mamata Banerjee instead, claiming that the situation there was under control and his presence wasn’t needed. Dinesh Trivedi, on his first day as Railway Minister, is going through perhaps one of his toughest challenges. How do you answer the families of the deceased, what explanation do you give for three accidents in a row, all of which could possibly have been averted? Safety has to come first on any list; admittedly, there are endless kilometres of tracks stretching out all over the country, but that is why we also have a body committed to maintaining it and ensuring that people reach their destinations safely.
The blueprint for the High-Speed railway system to be in place in China by 2015 presents a study in contrast. The new Beijing-Shanghai High-Speed Railway, equipped to deal with the snowstorms that play havoc with the system during the peak festival periods, which is also when large numbers of people travel home, covers the distance of 1318 km at 300 kmph, making a round trip possible in a single day. Empty trains travel in the morning from each direction to ensure the safety of the line, a task made imperative by the fact that these trains reach a top speed of 350 kmph. Proper and fast connectivity seems to be the top priorities of Chinese railway authorities, but in no way do they compromise on safety. They handle massive amounts of traffic, just like the Indian railways; but were a major accident to take place, would it take this long to find out the root cause of the problem and make sure it doesn’t repeat itself? Lessons aren’t learnt easily in India, though: a fault was detected in the axle of the pantry car of the Bhubaneswar- New Delhi Rajdhani Express, and a major accident was averted, but this inspection took place only at Tatanagar. The blame for the lapse was laid on the East Coast Railway.
That the different zones of the railways should work in conjunction with one another shouldn’t be too much to ask. The horrific casualties of three different accidents in one week should serve as a massive jolt to the slumber that seems to have set in. Importantly, the people concerned should accept responsibility for their areas and work towards enforcing the necessary regulations. It isn’t difficult; it just requires systematic and honest work.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The Home-logue II: Shopaholic- Who, Me?
I am not a shopaholic. Not by any standards. Invite me to go shopping, and I'll run away before you can say 'salesgirl'. However, when necessity arises, when I've brought myself to the point that I have almost nothing decent to wear to work (blame that on the piles of unwashed laundry in my room), I do condescend to go shopping. I don't mind it much when I can find everything I need in one single shop, when I'm spoilt for choice, and when the colours are all pretty and inviting.
Cotton has to be the best fabric ever thought of by man. I see heavily made up women on TV, faces powdered and dusted with layers on the verge of peeling off; they wear red-sequined blue sarees with blue-sequined red blouses, bat their eyelids, twist their lips into unimaginable curves that possibly only Yelena Isinbayeva could match with her body. I know I'm digressing way off the mark, but at such moments, I feel like reminding people that there is a cool, comfortable, light fabric known as cotton, and you'd be infinitely better off if only you tried it.
Coming to the point, though, I picked up clothes in quick succession, and it was all done in under 30 minutes. I am one girl nobody would crib about having to go shopping with. The unnerving hour at the tailor's was also tolerable. The worst part of the entire trip was in fact the journey- the dust, the chaotic traffic and the heat.
On a more serious note, I was conscious of coming across a scene of an accident or an ambulance speeding to one; has there been a marked increase in the number of accidents? What makes us ignore traffic rules with such carelessness, knowing full well the consequences of breaking rules? What gives us the right to endanger the lives of other people? Hopefully, something will knock some sense into our heads and make us realise the folly of our ignorance, if it can be called that.
One thing on a marked decrease seems to be the number of Ambassador cars, the sturdy, solid, once ubiquitous symbol of 'modernising' India. Is it strange to miss them? There is something comforting and reassuring about those cars, a symbol of an age that was straddling two eras, trying to bridge a gap and trying to catch up with the more progressed parts of the world.
No matter how much we advocate progress, there is a small part of us that seeks refuge in the permanent and the unchanged, isn't there?
Cotton has to be the best fabric ever thought of by man. I see heavily made up women on TV, faces powdered and dusted with layers on the verge of peeling off; they wear red-sequined blue sarees with blue-sequined red blouses, bat their eyelids, twist their lips into unimaginable curves that possibly only Yelena Isinbayeva could match with her body. I know I'm digressing way off the mark, but at such moments, I feel like reminding people that there is a cool, comfortable, light fabric known as cotton, and you'd be infinitely better off if only you tried it.
Coming to the point, though, I picked up clothes in quick succession, and it was all done in under 30 minutes. I am one girl nobody would crib about having to go shopping with. The unnerving hour at the tailor's was also tolerable. The worst part of the entire trip was in fact the journey- the dust, the chaotic traffic and the heat.
On a more serious note, I was conscious of coming across a scene of an accident or an ambulance speeding to one; has there been a marked increase in the number of accidents? What makes us ignore traffic rules with such carelessness, knowing full well the consequences of breaking rules? What gives us the right to endanger the lives of other people? Hopefully, something will knock some sense into our heads and make us realise the folly of our ignorance, if it can be called that.
One thing on a marked decrease seems to be the number of Ambassador cars, the sturdy, solid, once ubiquitous symbol of 'modernising' India. Is it strange to miss them? There is something comforting and reassuring about those cars, a symbol of an age that was straddling two eras, trying to bridge a gap and trying to catch up with the more progressed parts of the world.
No matter how much we advocate progress, there is a small part of us that seeks refuge in the permanent and the unchanged, isn't there?
Monday, April 13, 2009
The Home-logue I: Election Time
I'm home. If this is it.
The extremely short summer vacation has come to an end, and perhaps it was made all the more engaging by the limit of its duration. Out of the dust, the heat and the chaos in the cloudy environs of Singapore- and guess what? I seem to have brought some sunshine along.
I landed at the brilliant, spanking, controversial Rajiv Gandhi International Airport in Shamshabad, Hyderabad in the early hours of April 4. Midnight doesn't show you much in terms of traffic, but you can feel your bones rattle as you are jolted over the potholes and the orange dust rises from the ground and makes its way into your nostrils, hair and eyes. You see the green eyes of a cow caught in the headlights of the car in the middle of the road. You hear the incessant, mostly unnecessary honking and the rumble of huge trucks. And then you know, you're back home.
Election time coupled with the summer season is not exactly the best time to be in India, especially if you need to go outdoors pretty often. What with the rallies, the manifestos sung out in folk tunes and the heat beating down on your head and your back and every possible inch of bare skin, it is quite easy to be driven up the wall.
However, with my new-found optimism aiding me, I was able to make the most of it all. Come election time, news channels become extremely entertaining. There are the exaggerated gestures and the rolling eyeballs of anchors standing by the caravans of various political parties, drenched dupattas and shirts reminding you that journalism is not always as glamorous as it looks. Endless poll predictions, bar graphs, pie charts, statistics. Kurta-pyjamas, tilak and garlands. Speeches full of empty promises. And of course, the digs politicians take at one another, which make you wonder why you're even watching the news. Really, will these people ever get serious? Words and shoes are flying back and forth, and were they eventually to make a difference, perhaps it wouldn't matter so much. As of now, though, the news is just to be watched for the entertainment quotient. Yogendra Yadav and Rajdeep Sardesai can go berserk with their predictions and projections, Mallika Sarabhai can try to make a difference, Chiranjeevi can try to be yet another actor-turned-politician attempting to stay on in the limelight, Shashi Tharoor can try and tread high moral ground in Congress colours after his neutral stint with the UN. In the end, things won't change much. The real permutation and combination will begin after the polls, broken alliances will mend automatically, sworn enemies will swear eternal friendship, Vaiko's fiery speeches will be forgotten, Laloo will be a useful ally again, the next round of games will be flagged off.
And we'll be taken for a ride, yet again.
The extremely short summer vacation has come to an end, and perhaps it was made all the more engaging by the limit of its duration. Out of the dust, the heat and the chaos in the cloudy environs of Singapore- and guess what? I seem to have brought some sunshine along.
I landed at the brilliant, spanking, controversial Rajiv Gandhi International Airport in Shamshabad, Hyderabad in the early hours of April 4. Midnight doesn't show you much in terms of traffic, but you can feel your bones rattle as you are jolted over the potholes and the orange dust rises from the ground and makes its way into your nostrils, hair and eyes. You see the green eyes of a cow caught in the headlights of the car in the middle of the road. You hear the incessant, mostly unnecessary honking and the rumble of huge trucks. And then you know, you're back home.
Election time coupled with the summer season is not exactly the best time to be in India, especially if you need to go outdoors pretty often. What with the rallies, the manifestos sung out in folk tunes and the heat beating down on your head and your back and every possible inch of bare skin, it is quite easy to be driven up the wall.
However, with my new-found optimism aiding me, I was able to make the most of it all. Come election time, news channels become extremely entertaining. There are the exaggerated gestures and the rolling eyeballs of anchors standing by the caravans of various political parties, drenched dupattas and shirts reminding you that journalism is not always as glamorous as it looks. Endless poll predictions, bar graphs, pie charts, statistics. Kurta-pyjamas, tilak and garlands. Speeches full of empty promises. And of course, the digs politicians take at one another, which make you wonder why you're even watching the news. Really, will these people ever get serious? Words and shoes are flying back and forth, and were they eventually to make a difference, perhaps it wouldn't matter so much. As of now, though, the news is just to be watched for the entertainment quotient. Yogendra Yadav and Rajdeep Sardesai can go berserk with their predictions and projections, Mallika Sarabhai can try to make a difference, Chiranjeevi can try to be yet another actor-turned-politician attempting to stay on in the limelight, Shashi Tharoor can try and tread high moral ground in Congress colours after his neutral stint with the UN. In the end, things won't change much. The real permutation and combination will begin after the polls, broken alliances will mend automatically, sworn enemies will swear eternal friendship, Vaiko's fiery speeches will be forgotten, Laloo will be a useful ally again, the next round of games will be flagged off.
And we'll be taken for a ride, yet again.
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