Egg-straordinary Dilemma

The bug of indecisiveness stings the officers of the Armed Forces early in life.

The successes in the wars and operations, which the Indian Armed Forces have executed since we earned our freedom in 1947, has proved the prowess of our men in uniform. Their ability to take quick and near perfect tactical and strategic military decisions under extreme pressure and in the thick fog of war, is matchless. But, in some situations, even in peacetime, they are straightjacketed and indecisive.

For example, the top brass takes good time to decide whether to use a chipper, a seven-iron or a putter to send their golf ball five yards from the edge of the putting green to the pin. Some freeze in that situation; many go by what their caddie advises them to do. I know of a few good ‘golf mentors’ being rewarded with permanent jobs for their services to their bosses. A senior golfer used to quietly resort to ‘Eeny Meeny Miny Moe…’ to avoid decision making on the course.

A study has revealed that the bug of indecisiveness stings the officers of the Armed Forces early in life. As young bachelors when they enter the dining hall every morning their minds are already browsing the ‘TO DO LIST’ of the day. In the few minutes that they set aside for breakfast; they are not in a position to give clear instructions to the waiter about what egg preparation they would like to be served. The choice is fairly wide and confusing—boiled eggs (hard/ soft boiled), fried eggs (single/ double fried), sunny side up eggs; scrambled eggs, poached eggs, simple omelette, savoury omelette, cheese omelette, Lucknowi Omelette… the list is long. Decades ago, an officer who had the time and inclination to devote to the issue, directed the mess staff to prepare his entitlement of eggs in a particular way. The preparation became popular as Datikara Bhujiya in the Indian Air Force.

I was a veggie for most part of my service life. That saved me the pain of taking a difficult decision every morning. Once in a blue moon, when I did order eggs, my instructions used to be clear: “Get anything; anything that you can get fast, lest the eggs hatch and I have more difficult time deciding what to make of the chicken.”

It has been forty long years since I stopped dining in the mess; and seven years since I hung my uniform and re-attired. I had almost forgotten about the daily egg dilemma when I was faced with the same old question, recently. I had given a very short notice to Keshav and Saurabha when I told them that I was calling on them just to say, “Hello!” It being lunch time, they insisted that I break bread with them.

“Nothing special, Uncle. We’ll have whatever is there. Saurabha has prepared rice and daal, and has baked a banana cake.” Keshav suggested when I hesitated. “Do you take egg? How would you like to have it? Will egg curry be fine? I can make it in a jiffy.”

“I am fine with egg curry. You guys keep it simple; don’t upset your schedules because of me.”

To cut the long story short, the egg curry was delicious. Seldom have I found an egg preparation so appealing. I still drool when I think of it. I sought their permission to use my hands instead of the well laid cutlery and ate to my heart’s content.

Since, in my re-attired life I do not have a long ‘TO DO LIST,’ I thought I might as well learn how to prepare the mouth-watering egg curry. I requested Keshav for the recipe which he did promptly. For those who wish to experiment, here is the recipe.

Thank you, Keshav! Thank you Saurabha!

Main Ingredients (serving for two)

5 eggs (boiled and peeled)
2 large red onions
1 garlic clove
1 tbsp grated ginger
1 tbsp crushed garlic
1½ tbsp chili powder
1 tsp turmeric powder
3 tbsp curry powder (use for egg curry)
1 tsp cumin powder
½ stick cinnamon
2 pcs star anise
4 pcs cardamom pods (whole)
3 pcs cloves
400 ml cream (adjust as needed)
A pinch of salt
1 tbsp ghee or clarified butter
3 tbsp cooking oil
Fresh coriander leaves (for garnishing)

Ingredients for Seasoning

4 tbsp ghee or clarified butter
5-6 pcs dried chillies
4-5 pcs curry leaves
1 tsp diced onion

Procedure

Preparation of Ingredients:

Boil the eggs, peel them, and set aside.
Dice the red onions, use half the garlic clove.

Initial Cooking:

Heat oil in a deep non-stick pot.
Add cinnamon, star anise, cardamom pods, and cloves. When fragrant, throw in the diced onions, garlic, and green paprika. Cook on medium heat until soft.
Add the grated ginger, and garlic paste. Sauté for a minute until everything is well combined and aromatic. The masala is ready.
Add the boiled eggs to the masala and gently coat them with it.
Add all the powders (chili, turmeric, cumin, curry powder). Mix well, ensuring the eggs are well coated.
Add salt to taste.

Preparation of the Curry:

Pour in the cream, stir well, and reduce the heat by two levels.
Cover the pot with a lid and let the curry simmer for about 10 minutes. Stir occasionally to prevent it from burning.
Remove the lid and cook until the curry thickens, allowing it to reduce until almost dry.
Final Touches:
In a separate small sauté pan, heat the ghee or clarified butter. Add the dried chilies, curry leaves, and diced onions. Cook until the onions turn golden brown.
Pour this tempered mixture over the egg curry and stir.

Serve

Garnish with fresh coriander leaves. Serve with basmati rice, cucumber with mayonnaise, some pickles, or simply chapati and daal.

Bon appétit!

Volvo Culture

An interesting bit of information is displayed on a standee kept next to The Very First Volvo in the World of Volvo, in Gothenburg. It points out that the premier of ÖV4, in the 1920s, fell flat because a rear axle gear had been installed incorrectly and the car could only drive in reverse in its first test drive. Embarrassment caused by the event to the company notwithstanding, Volvo identified the fault and immediately fixed it. Then onwards, the Volvo cars and trucks have had the reverse gears; but Volvo, the automobile giant, has only moved forward. It has gracefully covered the long distance to world leadership in automobile sector.

Before talking further about Volvo culture, here is a less known fact about the reverse gear—it is the most powerful gear in all automobiles. Once, while on a 3,700-mile road trip from Paris to Ankara, Dominique Lapierre, and his classmate, Dominique Frémy, was faced with a steep climb near Athens, which brought their 6-HP antique Amilcar to its knees. To deal with the challenge, they turned around the car and drove uphill in reverse gear. The effect was miraculous: their valiant car climbed the slope like a Tour de France bicycle.

There is much to learn from Volvo’s culture of acknowledging shortcomings, working on them to improve, and above all, talking candidly about the failure. The power of the reverse gear also has a message.

Managing personal life; running a corporation or a government—each is akin to driving a vehicle. If a not-so-correct decision is taken and implemented, it would only be appropriate to acknowledge it gracefully, in time, like Volvo, and to get into the powerful reverse gear to prevent appreciable damage.

Like the reverse gear, the brakes and the rear-view mirrors also contribute to good driving. The purpose of brakes—more important than the ability to slow down and stop at will—is to allow driving at high speeds. Awareness of functional brakes, or ‘brake consciousness’ as it may be called, sets one free to speed up.

Amusingly, the purpose of the rear-view mirrors installed in the cars of the yesteryears was to enable the drivers to keep an eye on the cops who might be chasing them. Today, they have a more meaningful purpose—to ensure road safety.

Cruising ahead in life; or leading an organisation, it pays to look into the rear view mirror and observe the road travelled. Slowing down to take stock, or getting into reverse gear to make amends are empowering options.

Willingness to adopt the goodness of Volvo Culture is the need of the hour.

Yuck to Yum — A Soup-er Saga

Butternut squash, a close cousin of pumpkin, can also taste delicious!

At school, we used to be faced with two choices in the dining hall—eat what was served or, go hungry. Prudence guided me to stick to the first option. Those days, we used to dislike pumpkin which was served often. One day, a student posted a cartoon depicting a caricature of a helpless looking boy, hands joined, murmuring reverently to a pumpkin:

“ऊपर से हो ताम्र वर्ण, भीतर से हो सोना… जिस दिन न देखूँ तुम को, आता मुझ को रोना… ओ कदुआ, ओ कदुआ, ओ कदुआ!”

Meaningfully translated…

“Thou art coppery on the outside; golden inside… O Revered Pumpkin, tears flow from my eyes, when I don’t see thou.”

We got a short-lived relief from pumpkin, when the sarcasm flowing from the cartoon melted our principal’s heart. If only, the fairy godmother who turned a pumpkin into a golden chariot for Cinderella, could also make it disappear from our daily menu, we used to pray.

Many grown-ups also detest pumpkin. There’s a popular joke about a commanding officer visiting his men who are being routinely served, among other preparations, pumpkin in the langar (jawans’ dining area). Although aware of his men’s dislike for the vegetable, he nudges his Langar Havaldar, (caretaker of the jawans’ dining hall), “बंता सिंह, कद्दू बहुत अच्छी सब्ज़ी है… (Banta Singh, pumpkin is a very good vegetable) …”

A seasoned Banta senses the mood of the Commanding Officer and paints a beautiful picture, “जी सर, कद्दू सेहत के लिए बहुत अच्छा होता है इसमें विटामिन A, B, C, D, E, F, G… (Yes Sir, pumpkin is very good for health… it contains vitamins A, B, C, D, E, F, G…).”

The Commanding Officer smiles; he understands Banta’s predicament. A few days later, he needles Banta, “कद्दू बिलकुल बेकार सब्ज़ी है… ये मुझे नापसंद है (Pumpkin is an absolutely useless vegetable… I dislike it).”

Banta Singh starts off instantly, “जी सर कद्दू तो होता ही बेकार है… ये लंगर में इसलिए सप्लाई किया जाता है क्योंकि ये सस्ता होता है। इसमें कोई विटामिन नहीं होता है… (For sure Sir, pumpkin is a useless vegetable… it is supplied to the langar because it is cheap. It doesn’t contain any vitamins…).”

The Commanding Officer takes an endearing dig at Banta, “ओए बंते… कुछ दिन पहले तो तू कह रहा था कि कद्दू बहुत अच्छी सब्ज़ी होती है… आज ये बेकार कैसे हो गई… (My dear Banta… the other day you were saying that pumpkin is a very good vegetable… how come it has become a useless vegetable today…)?”

“साहब जी, मैंने आपके अंडर नौकरी करनी है, कद्दू के अंडर नहीं (My dear Sir, I have to serve under your command… not under pumpkin’s),” Banta banters unflinchingly.

***

A habit to accept all food with reverence, or may be, indifference, was a spinoff off of the survival instinct we developed in school. For that reason, my dislike for pumpkin is now water under the bridge. At age 65, I can eat (read, “tolerate”) most preparations without squirming or making faces. So, when one day, Anjali, my daughter-in-law proposed to prepare butternut squash soup for dinner, my response was, “Why, of course! I would love to try something I have not eaten before.” ‘Butternut Squash’ had sounded very appealing to me. But my enthusiasm nosedived when I was told that butternut squash was a close cousin of our own pumpkin (कद्दू) — Pumpkin, which I had begun accepting after half a century’s detestation.

I waited with apprehension until the soup was ready. And, lo and behold, when I started eating it, there was no stopping. I ate it to my heart’s content and relished it greatly. It amazed me that butternut squash, a close cousin of pumpkin, could taste so good.

***The little one slurping a bowl of the soup was a treat to the soul***

Anjali shared the recipe with me and guided me when I prepared it on my own for the first time. I felt elated when she certified my preparation fit-for-human-consumption. I was happier still when Maya, my granddaughter (2) slurped down a bowl of it with joy.

The experience of preparing the soup was therapeutic and truly blissful.

For those of my readers whose curiosity to try butternut squash soup, has been whetted by my recollection, the recipe is here.

Ingredients (for a sumptuous helping for two)

• A medium sized butternut squash – about 1.5 kgs. Use of pumpkin instead, will give the soup a sweeter taste. A Marwari by birth, and still a Marwari at heart, I love that sweet taste in everything.

• Two onions

***Butternut Squash — a close cousin of our own pumpkin***

• Two peeled and diced potatoes

• Ginger – 50 gms

• Garlic – two to three cloves

• Olive oil

• Broth – make it by boiling two cubes (sachets are available in the market) in two litres of water. This can also be made by boiling fresh vegetables of choice, like carrot, celery, potato etc. Use of non-vegetarian broth is a personal preference.

• Coconut Milk or Fresh Cream – 200 ml

• Rosemary

• Salt and pepper to taste

• Parsley, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, flex seeds for garnishing (fresh parsley leaves may also be used for garnishing

Procedure

• Chop onion, ginger and garlic and sauté in olive oil until onion is golden brown

• Add peeled and diced butternut and diced potatoes (potatoes serve to thicken the soup), and continue to sauté for 3-4 minutes.

• Add the broth in a quantity such that it covers the solids.

• Add rosemary, salt and pepper to it while it boils.

• When butternut squash becomes soft and can be meshed easily with a spoon, blend.

• Add coconut milk or cream and mix.

Presentation

• Serve in large bowls with garlic bread

• Garnish with parsley, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, roasted flex seeds

***…a treat to the eyes and the the tongue***

• Add cream for richness

• Fresh parsley leaf, or even coriander leaf can be used for garnishing. Butternut Squash Soup (orange colour), looks awesome (like Indian tricolour) when garnished with a little cream and fresh parsley or coriander leaves.

• This could also be accompanied with a salad (chick peas salad or cous cous, a Latin American salad)

• Red wine goes well with this soup.

Note: Served with garlic bread, butternut squash soup is a full meal. Butternut Squash can be replaced with broccoli or potato or carrot or cauliflower to make respective soups.

Bon appétit!

Paris Olympics: Need to Change the Way We Think

Here is a news headline about the performance of an Indian wrestler at the Paris Olympics being reported by NDTV:

“Paris Olympics 2024 Highlights, Day 11: Vinesh Phogat Achieves Historic First, Assured Of At Least Silver”

It would have been more assuring, and still technically correct, and still giving the channel an ‘escape route’ (if that is what it is looking for while reporting) if it had been worded thus:

“Paris Olympics 2024 Highlights, Day 11: Vinesh Phogat Achieves Historic First, Moves A Step Closer To Gold”

Here’s more…

***Can it be, “India may fight for two gold medals”***

Golf and Gandak

About a myth called indispensability.

Remembering dates and recalling chronology is not my cup of tea unless they are associated with memories. Suffice it to say that the exotic east was my home for two and a half years around the time 9/11 happened. Chhaya, my soulmate and Mudit, our son had stayed back in Delhi for the latter’s schooling when I moved on a posting to Tezpur as the Senior Logistics Officer (SLO). Those days mobile phones were rare and smart phones, non-existent. Video chat existed, but only in the drawing room discussions about the awe-inspiring future technologies. Public call booth was our means of connecting with our dear ones back home. The waiting at the booth used to be long when the call rates used to dip after 10 pm. Despite those little struggles, one realises in hindsight that without smart phone, existence was meaningful—one could indulge in activities which boosted the feel-good-factor, and to some extent, the quality of life.

In Tezpur, without family—people called that state of being, forced bachelorhood—I could devote all my time and attention to work. Thanks to the dedication of my predecessors, logistics support to the Station was streamlined; the ageing MiG-21 fleet was afloat, nay soaring. So, I also had the time to afford other activities. Once in a while, critical shortages of spares, or elephants rampaging our Ration Stand, used to inject excitement in our routine.

The Gajraj Golf Club situated across the runway, offered me an opportunity on a platter to sharpen my golfing skills. My approach to the game was maniacal. I played like a man possessed, not missing a day unless there was a justifiable good reason. Unbelievable, but true—I played 45 holes on a particular holiday. That fact must not mislead one to conclude that I was playing well—piling birdies and pars. Far from it, long hours spent on the fairways—not to talk of the golfing lessons from the pro, Minky Barbora—did little to help me master my shots. At my best, I played to a fourteen handicap. So be it. I was happy playing. Period!

Air Commodore PK Barbora, popularly known as Babs Sir (later Air Marshal and Vice Chief of the Air Staff) was our Air Officer Commanding (AOC). He, and a dozen other officers shared similar passion for golf.

***Nothing could stop the golfers, but…***

The weather in Tezpur used to be hot, and mercilessly humid, for most part of the year. Rest of the time, it used rain heavily. A drizzle could never stop us from teeing off. What about rain? It was a mutually agreed rule to continue playing if it started raining after we had teed off. We permitted ourselves free lateral drops whenever a downpour created scores of shallow lakes in the fairways. We were unstoppable. For a few minutes though, we paused our game one day, only to give way to a herd of about 30 to 40 wild elephants who chose to cross our path.

Rounds of golf on the courses owned by the association of tea planters were jamborees. Amusingly, their fairways were maintained by the grazing cattle. The events provided unadulterated joy, taking us to the next higher level of being. Nirvana!

Indulging in a sporting activity alone, golf in particular, is no fun. Normally the AOC used to telephone one of us and confirm if we were playing on a given day. One day when others were occupied, he called me to check, if I was available. “So Ustaad, are we ON today? What time do we tee off? Is 2:45 fine?”

“Ustaad!” That’s how the AOC addressed everyone. That form of address had nothing to do with the formal term coined by Air Chief Marshal S Krishnaswamy to recognise and honour professionals.

It was a matter of chance that I too had a commitment that day. So, I responded apologetically, “Sir, I have a commitment today… I might get late. May I join you on the third or the fourth tee?”

“Ustaad, are you trying to impress me by staying late in the office.” Although the AOC said it in a lighter vein, his remark pricked me. Oblivious of my hurt feeling, he chuckled, “It’s fine. I’ll start alone. See if you can make it after finishing your task at hand.” Was I attaching too much meaning to the AOC’s words? Was I inviting offence when it was not meant? I wasn’t sure. But disturbed, I was.

The AOC was on the third tee when I joined him, “Good afternoon, Sir.” A grumpy me greeted him half-heartedly. His words, “Are you trying to impress me…,” were still screeching in my cranium; disturbing me. I felt he had been unfair in judging my commitment to work as an exercise to impress him. I knew in my heart, I would work anyway, regardless of him.

The AOC must have read my mind for he broached the subject, “Good afternoon Ustaad. What were you stuck with?”

“Sir, the weekly courier was to land today. I had a repairable aeroengine to be sent to Bangalore… it was urgent. Sometimes, when the aircraft are loaded to their capacity, the loadmasters decline our consignments. I went to the tarmac because I didn’t want that to happen today. Fortunately, they had the space and accepted our load.”

“What would you have done if they had had no space to accommodate your stuff?”

“It is a common occurrence, Sir. When there is no space, I speak with the crew of the aircraft and try to prevail upon them to offload some of their less important packages and accept my critical stores. I promise them to dispatch their offloaded packages by the next available aircraft. They appreciate the logistics needs of a fighter flying training station and generally concede to logic even if they are inconvenienced.”

I kept emptying my mind, “Besides, having spent seven years at PTS (Paratroopers Training School) Agra, I am able to connect well with most of the AN-32 and IL-76 crews, and sometimes I am even able to pressurise them to accept my consignments….” The AOC listened to my monologue without saying a word except for an occasional, “Hmm!” I wondered if I had been talking to a wall. We walked the distance together as I kept illuminating my late joining.

On the next green, the AOC was the epitome of peace and calm when he took stance for a long seven-foot putt for a par. The clinking of his Titleist Pro V ball as it fell into the cup was music to the ears. Then it was my turn. About three feet from the cup, with two strokes in hand I was sitting pretty for a birdie. Chaos and disorder were still stewing in my mind when I struck the ball. I missed the putt twice. It was a bogey.

“Oh no! Ustaad, how could you have missed that sitter,” Babs Sir exclaimed.

I shrugged my shoulders in disbelief. I too thought, at least a par was unmissable.

It was a disastrous day for me on the course. When we sat down for the usual cup of tea after the game, the AOC took out his pouch of tobacco and rolled a cigarette. He carried forward the conversation as he struck a match to light it, “You know Chordia, I am a happy AOC who has a conscientious SLO like you working for him. I appreciate your sincerity of purpose. Full marks….” He showered lavish praise on me for despatching the aeroengine. His demeanour suggested that he was headed elsewhere.

“But, think of it. Couldn’t any of your youngsters, or a Warrant Officer, or a Sergeant, have accomplished what you did… simply despatching an aeroengine?” He asked me as he took a last long drag on what remained of his little cigarette.

“Ustaad,” he continued, “Your men are an asset. Good grooming will enable them to shoulder greater responsibilities, and thereby relieve you to devote your time and energy to intellectual work. With thoughtful delegation one can manage things better. The opportunity to golf could be the spinoff of good management.”

I accepted the pearl of wisdom with humility. “Sir,” was all I said in my acceptance speech.

Postscript

There was much substance in what the AOC said that day. My fear that my men would not be able to accomplish things was holding me back from giving them responsibilities and making me feel indispensable. A little introspection and some fine tuning did wonders for me. Thereafter, I had a lot more time. I could not only play golf but pursue a lot of other hobbies and activities. I could immerse in books, draw caricatures, analyse handwriting, practise calligraphy strokes and even try my hand at wood carving. Tezpur turned out to be a greatly satisfying tenure, professionally and personally.

To conclude the sum and substance of this piece, a word about gandak will be in order.Gandak is a canine species, kind of a sheepdog found in Rajasthan. It can be seen walking in the shadows of the camels or under the carts drawn by them. Regardless of the weather—scorching heat or bitter cold—the long tongue of this little beast is always hanging; it is perpetually panting. My mother used to say, a gandak pants because it thinks that all the load is on its back and that it might tip over if it shrugs (read, “shirks”). Hidden inside us is a gandak which gives us a false feeling of indispensability. My life changed when I got rid of the gandak in me.

Lost in Translation: The Gaza War

If only vibes too could be translated!

Drawing inferences or lessons is an art.

A researcher placed a frog on a table and snapped, “Froggie jump!”

The frog jumped and landed two feet away.

The man, in quest of knowledge, scribbled an observation on his notepad and put the frog back at the starting point and chopped one of its hind legs. “Froggie jump!” he yelled again retaining the pitch and the loudness of the previous occasion.

The frog jumped. This time, it landed just about a foot away.

With great anticipation, the academic chopped the other hind leg of the helpless being and repeated the exercise. The profusely bleeding frog didn’t move an inch. The scholar repeated, “Froggie jump,” several times, varying the pitch and loudness of his command.

Then, with the air of an Archimedes discovering the principle of buoyancy, he noted: “A frog becomes deaf when its hind legs are severed.”

In a study on the impact of major historical events on the environment, published over a dozen years ago, it was theorised that some occurances could have impacted the climate due to the return of forests after depopulation; one of the events studied was the Mongol invasion of the 13^th and 14^th Century. It was revealed that 40 million deaths during the Mongol conquests caused large areas of cultivated land to grow thick once again with trees, which absorbed carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. Ecologists believe it may be one of the first ever cases of successful man-made global cooling. Thus, Genghis Khan was the greenest invader in history.

The ecologists who arrived at the green conclusion didn’t have the tools or, more probably, they didn’t have the inclination to comment on the kind of 40 million people killed by the Green Genghis. Among those put to sword, there could have been artists, painters, thinkers and social scientists who might have put the earth back on a greener track? May be. May not be.

It is only a matter of time, some social scientist, somewhere, will draw similar conclusions about the (good) environmental impact of the recent wars. More than 90 million (including civilians) have died in the wars since WW I (including only the major wars with casualties in excess of 25,000). Blame it on the fog of war—this estimate of ~90 million⁺ could be grossly incorrect. This figure does not include the Covid deaths.

Most wars have their genesis in the failure of dialogue and diplomacy. And when two sides do go to war, they fight to win it, and impose their will on the vanquished. Incidentally, the numbers that die on one side are not compensated by the number killed on the other side—they add up. In military academies and war colleges all over the world, they teach the art and the Principles of War. The knowledge gleaned from the writings of Kautilya, Sun Tzu, Clausewitz and their ilk, is passed on from a generation to another. The future leaders study campaigns, and try to figure out whether or not the military wisdom of the yore was put to use. The effort is to establish, to what extent the victor and the vanquished adhered to the proven warfighting tactics/ strategy.

The Ukraine War and, now the War in Gaza (some call it the War on Gaza, and with good reason, which depends where they stand and how their glasses are tinted), has necessitated the need to refine and redefine warfighting for the ones executing the will of the political leadership. A few might agree (most others will agree absolutely) to cram the sum and substance of all military knowledge in just four words: “LIVE AND LET DIE!”

“Live and let die!” that is what exactly the Ukrainians, the Russians, the Israelis and the members of Hamas are trying to achieve even as the cheerleaders, the US, the UK, the NATO and Iran etc are eagerly awaiting the opportunity to enter the fray.

Meanwhile, in the International Court of Justice (ICJ), the ‘genocide’ issue led to an animated debate. South African advocates painted a vivid picture of Israeli atrocities in Gaza. The Israeli rebuttal was passionate and strong. Rhetoric at the Hague boiled down to the definition of ‘genocide’ and ‘the intention to kill.’ At one point, the chair had to advise the Israeli representative to go slow to enable the translators and interpreters to keep pace. Speed notwithstanding, it is axiomatic that some meaning is always lost in translation. How then, can one expect people to understand each other, let alone be sympathetic? There is no way yet, to translate the ‘vibes.’ It is no wonder then, that the interim order of a toothless ICJ sounds so hesitant. The UN body has directed Israel to prevent genocide (mind the subtle difference between ‘preventing’ and ‘stopping’) in Gaza. As it stands, the ICJ is certainly not blaming Israel for the said crime. It has not ordered an immediate ceasefire.

The Gaza War has the potential to engulf many more actors and stakeholders in its raging flames. It is an unparalleled crisis. It is said that the worst corners of hell are reserved for those who maintain neutrality in times of crisis.

Time is NOW to speak up and work towards preventing further bloodshed.

Many wrongs have been committed since the birth of Israel in 1948. All those wrongs do not add up to make a right. They also do not justify either the Hamas raid on Israel on October 7, 2023 or the Israeli action following that attack. One of the possible ways out of the present crisis is the release of the Israeli hostages followed immediately by a ceasefire. If Israel decides to continue to pursue its aim of eliminating Hamas even after release of its hostages, it might succeed in its mission (although that is an extremely doubtful proposition) but in the process, it will sow the seeds for still worse to happen.

The writing on the wall is legible and clear. May sense prevail.

Tathastu!

Comments

Colonel Jamshed Hussain (Veteran) — Reasons are invented to justify most violent actions, including wars. Winners prevail, hence history is recorded as viewed by a victor. Seeds sown by imperial powers of yesteryears, will continue to fester conflicts…So Gazas and Ukraines will continue.. Ashok👍

Air Commodore Roj Assey (Veteran) — Very well written, Ashok.
I have a video clip of the Israeli ambassador speaking at the UN, a couple of weeks ago. He made two major points ….
If Hamas returns all the hostages, Israel will stop its offensive the next day.
Nothing is more important to Israel than its own survival – irrespective of what the world does, or thinks.
On the first point, this statement was made by an official rep of Israel and is a guarantee made in front of a world audience.
On the second point, ever since Israel declared its independence on 14 May 1948, after the dramatic Resolution taken in the UN on 29 Nov 1947, Israel has had to fight for its survival. A Russian Mig or an Israeli Mirage takes only a few minutes to cross the entire country of Israel.
There has been an enormous amount of heated, prejudiced, passionate and emotional talk and writing about the crisis. How much of it is true, depends, as you very aptly quoted, on how the glasses are tinted. I would suggest that 99 per cent – at least – of what is written, is a mix of fact and outright fiction.
But I cannot fault Israel’s desire to survive.

“the”

“Is INDIA prepared for the dire consequences?”

This morning my little grandnephew asked me, “Dadu, why do we say, ‘the US, the UK, the UAE?’ Why don’t we say, ‘the India’?”

“It is rather simple, my child,” I said, “When the name of a country suggests that it is a group of states or a confederation or a federation, we use ‘the‘ before their names like, the United States, the United Kingdom, the United Arab Emirates….”

“I see,” Kartik nodded.

“Not only that…,” I added to enlighten him further, “…the names of some countries which are archipelagos or groups of islands, are also preceded by ‘the‘ for example the Maldives and the Seychelles.”

“I will not use ‘the’ with Maldives. I don’t like that country. The Indian troops risked their lives for their President and we have been rushing to help them in their times of need, yet they speak with disrespect for our Prime Minister. They are bad people!”

“Language has nothing to do with relations between countries,” I chuckled. “Grammar is not governed by feelings, Maldives will continue to be called, the Maldives. Your dislike for that country doesn’t change anything. Relations between countries are temporary; only interests are permanent. Yesterday the Maldives were with us; today they are with China. Who knows, tomorrow they might end up being without any one on their side when China discards them like a spent tissue.”

A pout on the little lips, lateral movement of the eyeballs, and a shrug of his little shoulders was Kartik’s way of conveying his displeasure about this particular rule of the English grammar. He continued paying attention regardless.

“Not only that, we use ‘the’ before names of groups/ organisations that suggest coming together of several entities. For example, the United Nations, the World Health Organisation and…,” I paused to think of names of more organisations.

“In that case it would be grammatically correct to use ‘the’ with India too,” the little one spoke with sparkling eyes. “I.N.D.I.A. stands for ‘Indian National Developmental Inclusive Alliance’ and meets the criteria of being a coalition of several entities?”

That question put me in a tailspin. I remained silent for a long minute until Kartik tugged me, “Isn’t it Dadu?

I scraped the inside of my cranium for the special wisdom required to answer such questions. Then I spoke hesitantly. “Well, theoretically you’d be right if you use ‘the’ before I.N.D.I.A. But as it stands, there is nothing like I.N.D.I.A. It is just a group of ambitious people trying to remain relevant in Indian politics by any means. Rather than setting an agenda for the country, their only aim is to remove the ruling dispensation, and their primary concern is ‘seat sharing.’ Men apart, every man there is a candidate for the post of prime minister. As of now I.N.D.I.A. exists only as a concept.”

The quizzical look on Kartik’s face suggested that he didn’t understand a word of what I had said. But does either India or I.N.D.I.A. visualise the consequences of having a weak, rudderless and meaningless opposition?

Comments

Wing Commander Sanjay Sharma (IAF Veteran) — If my Grandson were to grill me like you were fried, I shall take apolitical asylum in Djibouti.😱😱🤯🤯

Wing Commander Vijay Ambre (IAF Veteran)—You need a strong and united opposition for a vibrant parliamentary democracy. The present conglomeration in the opposition is not likely to provide that after the general elections, especially if the present government returns to power.
The Modi government is doing a very good job on all fronts and deserves another term for internal and external policy continuity.

Colonel Jamshed Hussain (Indian Army Veteran)—Very interesting…use of grammer to drive home a point..for a meaningful democracy, a strong opposition is as important…. The small one for weekend, is razor sharp in its thought..Ashok, my compliments.👍 Stay blessed🙏

Air Marshal PV Athawale (IAF Veteran—Beautifully put across Ashok, through Kartik, something which “the politicians” scream aloud every evening on the TV, and no one understands!

O Maldives!

Will the man in the street of Malé be able to bear the outcome of the spat between India and the Maldives?

The one, and the only time I have ever been to the Maldives was without a passport, visa or an air ticket. Yet there was a red-carpet welcome. The Maldivians, their Government and their President in particular, were thankful for that visit of ours. In a handwritten note which he gave me, a senior military officer had expressed the sentiment: “Your Governments kind assistance is very much appreciated by our Force. National Security Service.” Signed Major Mohamed Zahir 4/11/88. He also presented me a cap badge and a formation sign of the NSS as souvenirs. “Do come over again in better times,” he had said, extending an invitation to me to the island nation. Perhaps that generous offer from a grateful Maldivian has become time-barred.

That was in November 1988—the Indian Armed Forces had provided succour to the then Government of Mr MA Gayoom in the midst of an attempted coup. The IAF had airlifted the paratroopers from Agra to Malé (2600km away); the paratroopers had rescued the President and restored calm. The Indian Navy had rounded up the fleeing rebels.

Much bloodshed was avoided; the medics of the Indian Army had taken over the Central Hospital to provide care to the wounded. The authorities had fallen short of words to appreciate the gesture (read the letter). The Indian troops remained in the Maldives for six months providing security cover and training the Maldivian forces.

And that was nearly 35 years ago.

*Is the Prez being mentored/ chastised?*

Time, tide and China have caused the erosion of the relationship that had been built on mutual trust and cooperation over the intervening decades. In the Maldives of President Mohamed Moizzu, the presence of an Indian helicopter and a handful of men—stationed to provide assistance to the Maldivians with the explicit understanding with the previous governments—is no longer acceptable. The manner in which it has been put forth by the man speaks volumes about his standing as the President of a sovereign country. Mind his body language and that of the Al Jazeera anchor during his recent interview to the television channel. The President is sitting up like a schoolboy answering the anchor who is leaning back, cross legged and pointing a pencil at him like a teacher. During their interaction, he appeared fidgety as if he were under instructions from his bosses to tow a particular line.

For sure, minds in Delhi will be working overtime to establish how things have come to such a pass, and more importantly, how to turn the tide. At the same time, the leaderships in Beijing and Malé must be looking forward to extracting the maximum they can from their present bonhomie. The people of Maldives will feel the effect of the Chinese bear hug sooner than later. It’ll be myopic on their part to ignore the outcome of Beijing’s largesse to Pakistan and Sri Lanka, and the result of China’s benevolence in Africa and South America.

Knowing the sentimental Indian, it wouldn’t be long before the ripples caused by #EXPLOREINDIANISLANDS and #boycottmaldives turn into waves. And, it shouldn’t be surprising if those waves turn into a tidal waves and then, into a tsunami that takes a small toll on Maldivian Tourism. As it appears, many have already reworked their plans (changed the destination from the Maldives to the Lakshadweep). A more likely and significant positive spinoff of the spat triggered by the unsavoury comment of a Maldivian politician (on Prime Minister Modi’s call to make Indian islands a tourist destination) would be an improvement in the facilities that our islands provide.

With a few Bollywood celebs echoing the anti-Maldives sentiment, investors might reconsider their plans of shooting their films on locales in the Maldives. A few cancellations will be enough for the Maldivians to feel the heat. Not long ago, I had advised my friends working on two of my stories—one inspired by Operation Cactus, and the other, based on a life changing event in the life of a military veteran—to plan shooting in the Lakshadweep rather than the Maldives. Although those suggestions were purely to keep the costs down, the present euphoria is nudging the decision further in this direction.

In the foreseeable future, Maldivians are less likely to give up visiting India for medical care or enrolling in Indian educational institutions or for other reasons. Visiting India is a need for the Maldivians.

A dispassionate cost benefit analysis of the current spat might show a little gain (or at least, NO LOSS) for India in the near future. The long-term tangible and intangible losses for the Maldives might be unbearable. Needless to say, the islands leased by the Maldives to Beijing have been a thorn in India’s side. Interestingly, the wisdom of an old Hindi proverb boils down to: “Use a thorn to take out a thorn.”

A dragon doesn’t have a soft belly. But it shouldn’t be impossible to find some delicate spots to insert a few needles to relieve the pain in India’s side. I am sure Jay (read Jai, if you will) is at it.

[Note: As I post this article, news of suspension of three Maldivian Ministers for their derogatory remarks against Prime Minister Narendra Modi, is making headlines. Will this action by President Mohamed Moizzu, stop the impending tsunami? Let’s wait and watch.]

Now read… “Malé will sink!”

Remembering Operation Cactus: (The Maldives, November 3, 1988)

Australia Day & Operation Cactus

Jay, Veeru and India China Relations

Dealing with the Darned Dragon: Preface

Dealing with the Darned Dragon-I: Border Infrastructure

Dealing with the Darned Dragon-II: Escape Hatch

Dealing with the Darned Dragon-III: A Lesson from Pearl Harbour

Dealing with the Darned Dragon-IV: Exercising (with) the Nuclear Option

On Satisfaction-scale

Trying to measure up on the satisfaction scale…

A tea vendor serving hot tea. Ujjain (MP)

Where on Earth are the Marriages made?

New dimensions are being added to match-making…

Until the beginning of 1980s, the thing that drew an Indian traveller’s attention when the train approached a station was bare-bottomed men with a container of water squatting blissfully by the track, deliberately oblivious of the passing trains. Then, there came something that vied for attention and grabbed it nice and proper. It was a hoarding in big white letters in Hindi repeated on the dilapidated brown brick walls separating the tracks from the suburbs on the approach to all cities. It read:

प्रोफेसर अरोड़ा। रिश्ते ही रिश्ते। मिल तो लें। 28, रैगर पुरा, करोल बाग। ब्रांचेज इन अमरीका एण्ड कनाडा।

Literally: “Professor Arora. Loads of matrimonial contacts. Just meet (us). (Address) 28, Raigarpura, Karol Bagh. (We have our) Branches in America (the US) and Canada.”

Innumerable married Indians, and quite a few Americans and Canadians, owe their happily, or very happily married lives to that ad campaign which might be a case study for budding entrepreneurs. That 28, Raigarpura ad was more striking and easier to avail of the offered match-making services than the matrimonial columns of the leading national dailies. The system run by Prof Arora couldn’t have been computerised. Computers didn’t exist even in the imagination in the India of the 1980s. Yet Prof Arora gave a run for the money to all others offering match-making options. Had Modi been the Prime Minister at that time, Arora would have been a subject of discussion on “Man ki Baat.”

Whoever said, “Marriages are made in heaven,” must have lived on a different planet; may not have belonged here. Or, that may have been true in a different era. We rarely see it happen nowadays. The last well known swayamvar was that of Sita (or was it Draupadi?).

The breaking up of the marriage of the daughter of a leading astrologer of India days after she took seven pheras of the holy fire has cast doubt on that system. The role of astrologers, if not the art and science of match-making using astrology, has also lost its appeal.

A joke has been doing the rounds:

A five-floor super store provides choice of men for husbands; desirable qualities keep adding as one moves to the next higher floor. One can climb floors but cannot return to a lower floor to make a choice. A lady wanting to choose a husband found caring men with jobs on the first floor. Curiosity took her to the second floor where she found wealthy caring men with good looks. With a desire to find a better man, she went to the third floor where there were good looking rich romantic men. The woman was happy with the offer but was tempted to have a look on the fourth floor. On offer on the fourth floor were good looking romantic millionaire men who’d help in the kitchen and take care of kids too. Anticipating an even better choice, she took the lift to the top floor to find a prominently displayed message: “Sorry, the kind of man you are looking for does not exist.” [Disclaimer: This joke has been recalled and reproduced to the best of the author’s ability. The readers may change the gender of the main protagonist and re-read if it pleases them.]

Seeing the growing demand, websites facilitating match-making have proliferated. They collect what they call ‘BIO-DATA’ of the customers and their expectations. Then, for a fee they offer contacts of matches who generally meet the requirements. One doesn’t need to write complex algorithms to get the desired output of this nature. A school student adept at using Microsoft Excel can help choose a ‘suitable’ candidate. For that reason, such websites are available a dime a dozen. Satisfaction from their services doesn’t count. Whether matches made through them result in successful marriages or they end up in divorce is immaterial—none visits them a second time. To remove the element of uncertainty people have begun visiting ‘dating’ sites which, again, are a gamble.

All these efforts to find a near-perfect, if not an ideal match, suffer from an inherent drawback—an individual might provide incorrect data or conceal vital personal information during the meetings that follow initial interaction on email or during telephonic conversations. Little has been done to carry out a reliable background check on individuals by the match-making websites. If attempted, this could be construed as invasion of privacy. People with resources are known to employ private detectives for background checks. Artificial Intelligence (AI) has still not stepped into this arena in any big way. So, beyond just comparing ‘requirements,’ how does one ascertain compatibility?

In December last year, Hold My Hand Matrimony, was adjudged as the Best Matrimonial Company by the Global Business Award (GBA). I was curious: How can one compare different websites providing almost exactly the same services? May be a website has a larger database with more fields to compare, match and report? My query led to a revelation; the company was doing something different. They were utilising services of skilled and experienced psychologists to ascertain the compatibility between individuals.

The process starts with sharing the biodata and pictures for marriage. A compatibility form for marriage is provided to the candidates. On the basis of the criteria mentioned by the candidates, the matchmaking team shortlists the matches.

A personal relationship manager is always present on the first call on conference between the two individuals/ families. It is to make the individuals comfortable before they communicate with each other and familiarise themselves. Hold My Hand Matrimony boasts of having the data on some of the most eligible marriageable youth of the country and a large number of PIOs and NRIs.

***Marriages are made here… on the earth***

This aspect of involvement of psychologists to ascertain compatibility got me interested; amused, to be honest. So, with a view to find a suitable match for my nephew, I called Mr Navneet Sharma, the CEO of the company to know more about their modus operandi. I discovered that the company is run by the husband-wife team. Ms Puja Sharma (Navneet’s wife) is an equal partner in the Company and handles some of the gender specific issues. I was amazed by their vision. They are experimenting with two more never-before-thought-of dimensions to their match-making service. In their business interest, I cannot write about the fascinating aspects, which are still under trial. Suffice it to say that one of them is social and the other, quite scientific—both will take match-making several notches up to the next higher level.

It is beyond doubt that with so much effort going into match-making, more and more people will live happily for ever.

PS: A few readers have called me seeking the contact details of Hold My Hand Matrimony. Here they are: WhatsApp: +919319706587 Email: info@holdmyhandmatrimony.com