Debarth's Den

Close to a decade has elapsed since we witnessed those incredible visuals on TV of the twin towers in New York crashing down to earth. The henchmen involved in the attack have been taken for dead in the suicide attacks, save for their masters, long believed to be the hard-core Islamic terrorist organization, Al Qaeda and the man supposed to be at its helm, Osama Bin Laden. At the time the FBI declared Bin Laden as the mastermind of the carnage, their were more than a few skeptics with eyebrows raised in incredulity, and not unnaturally, at the deduction of the investigative agencies. It was simply hard to digest the fact that a few men hiding in the desolate mountainous terrains of an equally desolate country could gain access to the resources that were employed in the highly sophisticated operation. Anyway, the conclusion was arrived at, and accepted by the world at large, and gave the Americans the license to run over any part of the world where they felt the ‘suspects’ were holed up...

Consistency is not an attribute that can be strictly associated with all human beings, however emancipated those human beings may be. Whatever is noble can never be guaranteed to get nobler or, at the least, to stay as noble. It is unfortunate that the nobility of the Nobel Prize for Peace has been the latest victim of this fickle trait. There is no doubting the fact that puzzling rationale has often been applied in the selection of awardees for the Nobel Peace Prize. Yet, the choice of Barack Obama for the 2009 award surpasses many a farcical selection. Barack Obama was rightly and pleasantly surprised (‘astonished’ might be more apposite) to have found himself a Nobel awardee one fine morning. The arguments of the Nobel committee in favor of the strange decision have been based on the premise that Obama has taken ‘decisive’ steps in the direction of attaining world peace. A hardly cogent argument that, considering that Obama is yet an infant in the field of world politics, still in s...

Visuals flashing across news channels today reminded me and many other Indians that the time has come once again to spare a moment of our lives to reminisce over the greatness of the Father of The Nation. As I watched the ceremonial homage being paid to the Mahatma by the various political leaders and their well-rehearsed speeches in praise of Bapu’s principles and values, I found myself unable yet again to ward off strong thoughts of cynicism from intruding inexorably into my mind. The bevy of political bigwigs making a beeline at Raj Ghat looked so much like a shameless exhibition of hypocrisy that the solemn occasion lost all its austerity in my eyes. Mahatma Gandhi gave himself up for the cause of an India free from the reins of imperialism. That he achieved his dream of living in an Independent India, that too without having to indulge in or abet any form of violence was an incredible feat in itself; a feat that should have heralded the beginning of a new India built on the founda...

The rain Gods are no longer as benevolent as they have been for India. The writing is large and ominous on the wall. India can no longer afford to lie back and hope that the clouds from the South West will come knocking at our doors on the dot, year after year. El Nino is one explanation for the aberration this year, but there are sure to be other reasons that may crop up in the future for Mother Nature’s inability to quench our thirst. Politically appropriate statements from ministers and statistical jugglery from the meteorological department have never done anything, or are ever likely to do much to assuage the despair and despondence of the millions of Indians whose very survival depends upon the timely arrival of the rains. Agriculture is the very foundation upon which the economic and social well being of the entire country rests. To allow this foundation to be held ransom to the Monsoon winds, which are threatening to be more whimsical than ever, would be the undoing of this co...

What does one do at the end of a fruitless day, inconsequential and mundane; when one is in the company of none but solitude, enveloped by the monotonous silence of mute confines; when one has to strive hard to prevent his or her spirits from being dragged down under a quilt of gloom. Moments like these can be frequent, yet always unwanted visitors in one’s existence. When I have had the misfortune be in the throes of such torment, my mind always sought refuge in the ever-faithful realm of music to battle my blues. Western slow rock and country music has always been very close to my heart but the lyrical gems of Hindi film music are in a league of their own, and the one can never be compared in relation to the other. I can never tire of listening to my favorite Hindi mp3 music on my laptop – a collection of priceless melodies from the days of Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar. It is amazing how the sublime poetic thoughts of the seventies and eighties, which was, without doubt, the gol...

Kapil Sibal seems to have embarked upon a route that might change the face of Indian education forever. On the face of it, the new reforms do promise relief for young minds stressed with the ever increasing burden of expectation and the pressure to perform. It will certainly ease the trepidations on an exam day and on the dreaded day of results. As it is, the race for higher percentages has already begun to undermine the actual purport of knowledge acquisition. The minimalization of the importance of the class X exams, the first big test in a kid's life, and the clubbing of percentages under the broader system of grades will go a long way in alleviating the pressures of modern-day education as also in preventing students from getting into an ugly rat race of marks. Notwithstanding its obvious advantages, Sibal's innovative new reforms does have their flip side as well. There is hardly any doubt that, along with the moderation of stress, the fire of competition too would cool do...

As I watched the delirious celebrations of the English Cricket team after it outlasted the Australian team to win the Ashes, a certain amount of vicarious pleasure buoyed my spirits as well. Strangely, though, I also felt an unusual sense of pity for the Australian team members. The heady days of Australian dominance when they battered the wits out of every team on the planet are yet to fade from memory even as the team stood with forlorn faces staring at the excruciating result of a series that was purported to be one of sweet revenge. The arrogance and conceit that had made Australia the Bete Noire of world cricket with that undisputed aura of invincibility have suddenly been ground to dust. Ricky Ponting’s men looked just so vulnerable in defeat that pity was but a natural and spontaneous emotion that welled up in me at that moment. The Australian game of aggression, intimidation and mental disintegration had claimed many a foe with uncanny precision, and an innocuous English team w...