aditya kumar's weblog

While I have been away due to affairs related to matrimony (no, I am not married yet!) there have been things happening around.

One such thing that caught my notice today, in my inbox was a petition against the fair usage policy that has been set out as terms and conditions of broadband usage by at least two operators here in India — Airtel Broadband and Tata Indicom Broadband.

What they are doing is this — in case you have a monthly unlimited data usage broadband plan and if you end up using it beyond a certain “limit”, you will either be browsing at a “slower” speed thereafter (Airtel) or you would be asked to cut down on downloads, asked to upgrade your plan (so that you can download more until you reach a similar threshold) and eventually get your connection terminated because of this.

Airtel Broadband limits you to download 15 GB on a 256kbps connection. Tata Indicom has set itself to 45 GB on a 256 kbps connection.

This has come as a shocker to the subscribers of the unlimited data plans. I am unaware of any such limitations set by broadband service providers out there in the west and it defies logic. They should NOT be calling it an unlimited usage plan for starters.

In the long run, I would say this would turn out to be two-step backwards. A move like this would turn out to be ridiculous. As computer applications and their usage becomes more and more internet-centric, it is imperative that the user won’t be able to keep a tab on the usage and download of data from the internet. Enable Windows updates, check the automatic updates for the antivirus, browse youtube while having a laugh, check out some music at last.fm or the online indie radio station, talk to your friend in the US over skype and before you know, you have already downloaded close to 1 GB of data. Now, consciously, you have not downloaded anything. You don’t have any new data that you can use for yourself on your pc.

This is an example of computer usage becoming more internet-centric and the fair usage policy they have come up with, goes very much against it.

There are restaurants where you can “eat-all-you-can” for a certain amount of money. If someone abuses it — pays the amount everyday and then guzzle up food that’d be sufficient for 10 guys, the management would find ways to discourage him from entering the restaurant. This is exactly what our broadband companies are treating this as. And this is exactly what they should not be doing.

Meanwhile, if you are aware of any such thing happening in the USA, please tell!

While my Republic day was spent as I’d (once in a while) want it to — in a train on a cross-country ride that spanned numerous states and 2500 KM, The Hindustan Times Republic Day special, New Delhi late city edition, has something I’d want to be published a little more often. This newspaper, already 2 days old and living in a constant threat of being pushed in a pile of its older counterparts, has things I’d like to mention on my blog here. So before this forewarning becomes realistic any further, here I would like to take 9 names that spell Bravery, Heroism and much more. Most of these people mentioned below, have been awarded the country’s highest Gallantry Awards. In a country so short of heroes, here are a few. I am producing this as is, from the newspaper — Lest we forget.

1. Ajitesh Singh, Age 34

Chhattisgarh police inspector, veteran of eight encounters with armed Naxalities, the last on January 9, 2006, which left him with five bullet wounds. He survived, but three bullets still remain embedded in his chest.

2. B.K. Sharma, Age 50

Central Reserve Police Commandant whose 24 member platoon warded off an attack by over 100 armed Naxalites on August 22, 2006, as it was traveling through a forested road in Jharkhand’s Palamau district.

3. Gajendra Singh Bisht, Age 36

National Security Guards havildar, member of the commando team that descended down a rope from a helicopter above onto the roof of Mumbai’s Nariman House to rescue the residents being held hostage by the November 26 attackers. Killed by a terrorist’s bullet.

4. Mohan Chand Sharma, Age 41

Delhi Police Inspector. Shot dead on September 19, 2008, as her led the raid on alleged Indian Mujahideen terrorists responsible for serial blasts in the city, killing 26 people. In his 19-year long career, he had put to death 35 terrorists and 40 gangsters.

5. Muzaffar Ahmed Bhat, Age 21

Army sepoy killed in encounter with armed militants in Pulwama on December 4, 2007, as he tried to carry an injured colleague to safety.

6. Pramod Satpathy, Age 43

Assistant Commandant Special Operations Group, Orissa, who led the police team that chased a band of over 500 Naxalites which had killed 13 Policemen and looted arms at Nayagarh on February 15, 2008. Satpathy was killed in the encounter.

7. Raymond P. Diengdoh, Age 32

Meghalaya Deputy Superintendent of Police who led the raid upon a militant camp in the Paham-Umdoh forests bordering Assam on November 6, 2007. Hit early by a bullet, he still carried on with the operation, capturing two militants before he died.

8. Sandeep Unnikrishnan, Age 32

Major in the National Security Guards, killed while leading the team that flushed out the terrorists who had taken over Mumbai’s Taj Mahal Hotel on November 26, 2008.

9. Tukaram Omble, Age 53

Mumbai Police sub inspector who captured the sole surviving terrorist of the November 26, 2008 attack on Mumbai, Mohammed Ajmal Amir Kasab. Held on to Kasab until he died, despite being riddled by terrorists’ bullets.

My earliest memory of Bombay is also the most amusing one. My mother and father taking turns holding my sister and I holding one of them by the hand, standing on the overbridge of Ghatkopar station, pointing our gaze at the far end of the rail tracks, trying to ascertain which platform the coming train will ply on. If someone ever tried to find out a method to Bombay’s madness, here was one. At that moment, when all of us, despite everything, boarded the train, Bombay was an overcoming of obstacles.

The usual journey that took us to Bombay from the suburb we lived in involved a 45 minute boat ride, a walk through the Naval dockyard, a taxi ride, a train to be caught from the majestic Victoria Terminus. In monsoons, it was mostly an ordeal — much before we could make our ways through the Bombay roads that were full of filth and mire, we had to deal with the rough seas. But this fortnightly trip was something that had to be undertaken, for we lived in a place that was much away from the mainland. And going to the home of my father’s aunt — our only relation in Bombay, was a journey that was very comprehensive and offered me the only glimpse of a world that was so different than the one where I lived, only a few miles away. Then, Bombay was a collection of life’s first few lessons.

But the most rewarding of all was when I used to go to Bombay with my mother. She loved to windowshop at Crawford market (deep inside she still does, I know). We roamed around the fountain area, picked up some casual clothing and windowshopped at the costly stores. During one of those trips, I was amazed, almost to an extent of being in shock, to the sight of two glass doors opening (and closing) automatically as I stepped into a (very posh) Vimal Cloth Store. It was probably man’s greatest achievement, I thought — a technical feat. Oh and I almost forgot to mention the reward involved — the “softy” we called it then, the ice-cream cone that my mother treated me to. It was nothing less than a bribe. Getting it was not so easy — I had to keep my mouth shut while mom took her time choosing clothes. And on the rare occasion that I was extra good at it, I got twice of what was promised. At that very moment, Bombay became rewarding.

Slums were to be seen for the most part of the train journey. And there were different smells. A sea of smells. The smell of dried fish, the salty air. The city still retains most of it. Ah yes, the slums. They were just there, as if they had been there always. I never thought of them then — See, I was coming out of my shell and what I saw then was my idea of the world. So there it was, that another world alongside the railway tracks. The two worlds, by and large, living coherently.

So it comes as a surprise to me when they continue to derive so many things out of the slums. Spirit. Coherence. Unity. Tolerance. Pick up anything. Any movie, any literature on this city and you will find something or the other of the just mentioned coming out. Midnight’s Children, A Fine Balance, Salaam Bombay, Shantaram, Dharavi and the most recent, Slumdog Millionaire –each one of them a masterpiece. But why do we need to be reminded, by these works of art all based in Bombay’s slums, that religious tolerance and staying together are lessons that can be derived from an ordinary life?

At that time, for a 10 year old boy, Bombay was nothing extraordinary. It was just as things ought to be.

Update: The old theme is back :)

Don’t be surprised.

This blog has just gone through a successful upgrade. Apparently, the old theme is no longer supported and so what you see is the default WordPress theme. Depending on my patience level, I might just have to get a new one or make the old one work.

Till the time I get things in order, please bear.

Meanwhile, I hope this new year brings hope and peace to the world you and I live in. Have a good year.

More later.

A month after the Mumbai attack, we limp on. We search for love and peace. One guy in Brigade road, Bangalore, gives free hugs to strangers. Some find peace in sending greeting cards.

Pakistani terrorists attack India. India ups the rhetoric. Pakistan deploys most of its army on the India border. India still talks diplomacy. Pakistan continues the troop build-up and checks if its nuclear bombs are in place. India talks more, says no war. Pakistan says no war too, but the Army is still out there aiming at us. I am just wondering, who should be calling the shots here. And who is.

Meanwhile the politicians hit back with two very disturbing comments. And probably the only thing more disturbing than the comments are the two people who these comments come from. Here and here. Farooq’s comment is particularly disturbing because he is one man who never misses an opportunity to give some credit, to pat the back of the guys across the border. Playing both sides — an old habit of his.

All these years I didn’t vote. Somewhere, somehow, I am partly responsible for all this. Now, I can’t wait.

I do not know how would I have reacted if I was in Bombay during (any of) the terror strikes. There would be a mix of reactions and feelings in my head and I wouldn’t quite know how I would be dealing with the situation. Would I be writing about it? Would I switch off my television, disgusted of whatever I see? Would I have prolonged discussions about it with people I can talk sense with? How would it be?

But I do have a certain idea of how I would not want to be. I would not be like Narendra Modi. I would not go there with my bunch of security guards around me and I definitely won’t talk to the press. All this while hostages and the commandos fight it out only a few meters away. I promise you that I won’t try to score a political point out of it, for deep inside I would know how shallow my words would be then, as they have always been and I would just not have courage to do it, no matter what. Perhaps I would fear that my doing it would show to the world how oblivious I am to the intensity of the situation.

I would also hate to be in the (then) CM’s shoes. After being ashamed of my deputy’s comments while trying to mellow down the mood of the public by telling that this was just a choti si baat in a bada sa shehar ( a small incident in a big city), what I would definitely say no to would be my son’s demand of accompanying me while I go (with my personal commandos of course) and inspect of what is left after the massacre. And even in the hypothetical case that I take him with me I swear to you that I would keep his friends out. No matter how good (or bad) a director you are, this is a ticket I can’t get you Mr Verma. I am Sorry.

Nor would I be like this man, who, I am sure, has quite earned the irk of of a few cosmetic companies apart from the womenfolk. It must be obvious that anyone condemning the lipstick should be prepared to be left “red-faced”. The ghosts would definitely come back to haunt when Mr Naqvi gets elected to some office in the Government (It may happen, who knows) and have a couple of women superiors to report to.

Lastly, I would hate to be this other CM and earn the wrath of the proud father of a brave soldier. I wonder, how much, if I may use the apt word, shitty, one can be to call a press conference and say it all, quite calmly, that “not even a dog would have glanced that way”.

Perhaps the most surprising impact of the Mumbai terror attacks has been the wrath earned by our politicians from the junta. It had been long impending. Today no politician can roam on the streets of Bombay or Delhi as a free man.

These are the leaders we elect and put on high places. Be scared because they come from you and me. Be worried because it is no one’s but our failure. All these years, we have failed to deliver one strong leader we can look up to.

These lines were captured on TV, while a mumbaikar took a printout and held on them:

Mr Terrorist: I am still alive, what more can you do?
Mr Politician: I am alive despite you.

I AM A MUMBAIKAR.

Its a pity that these come from the streets of Bombay, the pulse of what is the World’s largest democracy. What a shame.

They say it is India’s 9/11. I think I have heard that before. Maybe when they attacked the Parliament. Does it matter?

Reports like this come out once in a while and then are later discarded. Why?

The ATS team were interviewed by the TV last week or so. Did you know all of them were killed?

They attacked Leopold’s. Did they read Shantaram?

I was roaming on the same streets 3 days ago with a friend from far away while she absorbed everything on her first day in the city. I wanted her to have a safe journey, her first in this part of the world. Had this happened then, how safe would I have felt? How could I be my usual reassuring self?

How safe do I feel now?

This is Bombay, 27 November 2008. I am terrified. Petrified.