An Indecisive Indian

  There are many like me—folks with some half-plucked feathers in the cap—who periodically get invited to be both honoured and humiliated at the same time. This blog is my humble service to that fraternity of ' garlanded causalities: glitter outside, slap inside'  so that they can smell the insult like stale samosas behind the garland.  After all, even Shakespeare’s Angelo in Measure for Measure knew this chimera of honours and awards, saying , “...Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue...” . This menace peaks around Engineers’ Day—our annual silly season when engineers like me are dragged out of mothballs and decorated like Diwali lanterns, only to discover the fuse is still attached. A caveat though, some organizations do honour you with dignity, by Central Cabinet Ministers, et alia , but let’s exclude those rare gems. What follows is the slapstick side of the saga with ‘To Do and Not To Do list’ . Chachā (uncle) Ghālib knew...

  This is truly the silly season for travellers. On the Lucknow–Barauni Express , passengers sweating in an AC coach found no relief from the vents—until officials discovered why. The ducts were stuffed with bottled spirits . Smugglers, or railway staff with a side hustle? No one knows. But one shudders, and chuckles at once, to imagine the scene had the bottles leaked: passengers, instead of complaining about “poor cooling,” would have been glowing with “inner heating” and blessed with a ‘ spiritual’ journey. Meanwhile in Srinagar airport , four SpiceJet staffers were floored—literally—by a Lieutenant Colonel when they dared ask him to pay for extra cabin baggage. Whatever the fine print, one takeaway shines bright: if one army officer can down four airline men in minutes, the nation’s security clearly rests in muscular hands. Not to be left behind in this baggage saga, Indian Railways (IR)   now plans to imitate airports with a luggage-weighing regime. Soon, rai...

  It has been years since those endless weeks of Covid lockdown, yet the memory has not dimmed. The silence of cities, the fear in the air, the arguments over timing, restrictions, and economic cost—all of it has blurred with time. But one image refuses to fade: the haunting spectacle of millions of migrant workers walking barefoot on highways, carrying bundles, children, and shattered hopes. Numbers and projections can be debated; this human tragedy could not. It was a wound to the nation’s conscience. Governments—both central and state—had the machinery, the information, the mandate. Yet, when it mattered, confusion reigned: should workers stay, should they leave, would they be cared for, or abandoned? In the end, the dignity and livelihood of millions were trampled, and even today one wonders whether the enormity of that damage has been fully understood. I had written about it then: https://anindecisiveindian.blogspot.com/2020/05/this-very-emotive-work-my-favourite.html   ...

I had joined Diesel Locomotive Works, Varanasi, in 2001, still the new face in the unit, learning the smell of its steel, diesel and bureaucracy as yet. Before I could settle into my role, the General Manager decided to hand me another hat, that of Honorary General Secretary of the Sports Association, perhaps because I had active interest in sports. It sounded straightforward enough. Then they told me I would be assisted by one Mohammad Shahid, the Assistant Sports Officer. Mohammad Shahid! Even the name was enough to make the air stand still. Shahid—the hockey wizard whose stick could bend a match to his will; the man whose artistry had delivered India its golden moment in the Moscow Olympics, and whose genius had lit up the international hockey arena many times over. His story was the stuff of quiet legend. Born into a modest family in the narrow lanes of Varanasi, he had risen to dazzle the world as India’s ace forward. The Indian Railways (IR), recognising his genius, brought...