“Stop appeasing the minorities!” shout the majority in the country. Hearing these shouts, I decided to fairly and unbiasedly look into theirangry cry. I did and realized how better to think of the country then as one large family, with the government, Mother India, looking after it’s differently built and diversely equipped children.

Watch a mother with her brood, does she love all of them equally?

Yes, most mothers do. There are very few who play favourites, but, and here’s the big but, a good mother starts noticing strengths and weaknesses in her different children, then makes efforts to compensate for any of the weaknesses she sees in any of them: If one child is big built and the other through sickness or otherwise smaller, she sees the littler one, receives protection, especially as the two, play with each other or compete.

Why does she do that?

So that the smaller or lesser equipped child doesn’t feel unequal in the family setup!

The bigger fellow might or might not be a bully but by his sheer size could intimidate the smaller fellow, and the mother steps in.

Does the big fellow like it? Certainly not, and very often cries that favoritism runs in the family, but the mother knows it isn’t so, and all she is doing is keeping the balance so members can grow strong. She knows for the boys to grow without any psychological damage or baggage, she needs to build equality, using her common sense.

In the end, a weak son, sickly and thin grows to be a confident lad, and the other fellow who was already blessed with a good constitution remains strong, and as he grows older and has children realizes that what he had earlier called favoritism and what the majority in our country now call appeasement was necessary and is, for healthy growth.

What would happen if the mother did not protect the weaker son? He would grow up bullied by the stronger fellow, because the stronger lad, with all the natural urges of ‘survival of the fittest’ would unknowingly or unwittingly have bullied the minor sized fellow, making him insecure throughout his life, and the family would have failed him.

Giving a little extra help to the minority section of our communities helps build confidence, makes them feel loved and stops making them feel insecure about the sheer size of the majority. It’s like a mother saying, “My dear Minority, you may be smaller built son, but you’re family!”

Democracy, like family, should strive to bring a balance, bring equality, and so has to compensate in some measure to the smaller numbers of some of its society. Those smaller members don’t belong elsewhere, but to the family called India.

The majority may call it appeasement, just as a stronger son calls it favouritism, but a wise mother smiles, knowing she does a good job..!

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“What’s happening?” I asked rushing into my friend’s home as I heard a deafening din, “Some catastrophe in the country?The anchor is screaming?”

“That’s what he does everyday!” shrugged my friend, “He calls people onto his show, then like an executioner, he bullies, batters and bludgeons them, and grinds them to pulp!”

“Why don’t they try and outshout him?” I asked, then realized as I watched, that the ordinary looking fellow, by raising the volume of his mike and lowering that of his panelists, made it appear they were mumbling and muttering while his words shouted vehemently and forcefully and obviously prepared well in advance towards a defined objective, was heard clearly by viewers, whereasthose uttered by panelists seemed like irritating interruptions to this man’s well-rehearsed speech!

Cunning and extremely clever, I must say!

Anybody who’s studied, ‘mob psychology’ knows any crowd can be incited to do reckless and murderous acts if whipped by loud rhetoric. This, I realized, is exactly what is shrewdly and subtly happening through this channel. It’s not just the shouting down of an invited panelist, but this chap’s clever veering of the talk towards a well- prepared hate agenda.

My daughter was a TV anchor for one of the biggest TV channels in the world, and since she insisted on me watching every one of sometimes three shows she anchored daily, and along with talks I had with her about anchoring, I do know something about the subject. An anchor’s job is not to tell. His is to let others tell, while he or she moderates and allows, yes allows everybody’s views to be heard. Not his, but those who have been invited. Anything less is not anchoring but openpropagating, nothing less!

And here, it looks like a propaganda machine is at work:And let me tell you, such talk and behavior would never have been tolerated in this country a few years ago, but now this man flourishes!

Lesser individuals, on flimsier grounds have been arrested inside our university campuses and elsewhere for inciting hate between communities, whereas here nothing is done, as like a crowd of Talibanists or ISISwatching an execution cheer the beheading of so called infidels, this man does the same as he openly with louder mike instead of sword, words instead of bullets, inflicts injuries, and goes for the kill with the baying of viewers who have come to watch another beheading of some ‘other’ who doesn’t belong to their religion, ideology, or political party.

This TV show is watched by men, women and also youngsters, who later like frenzied mob armed with same hate and hostility, help towards the polarization and division of our beloved country.

What needs to be done, is to have this harbinger of hate arrested and taken off the air. Anything less is meaningless and useless.

Start with refusing to join the mob, for the sake of the republic of India..!

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The way things are happening, I envision and shudder at the day when Donald Trump and his once sworn enemy Kim Jong-un become the closest friends in the world. With Donald promising to have a meeting with Kim and sorting things out, I can imagine how they’ll hit it off, “Hey Donny!” shouts Kim as he breaks protocol, when Airforce One lands in Pyongyang and rushes across the airfield to hug Trump, “Hey Donny, nice haircut, who’s yer barber?”

“Some Korean chap by the name of Jing Ling-un!” says Donald with an air of dismissal. “he’s here, traveling with me on Airforce One!

“That’s my cousin!” shouts Kim, “He ran away leaving me with this awful haircut, nobody knows how to cut hair like he does! Could I have him back Donny? I’ll even turn those missiles away from America!”

“You will?”

“Yeah, but you gottagive Jing Ling-un back!”

“Turn those missiles away first!” says Donald every inch a businessman negotiating a deal.

“Turn the missiles away from America!” orders Kim, and Donald watches as the giant missiles are turned towards the ground.

“Well!” says Donald, “Looks like I’ve got time on my hands. You’ve turned the missiles away but I need to stay here a few more days to show I really worked hard at this deal!”

“You giving me your barber is the best deal I could have gotten!” beams Kim. “Hey Donny, you know you got very small hands!”

“So do you!” says Trump.

“D’you know what they say about men who have small hands?” giggled Kim

“What?” asked Donald, suddenly self-conscious.

“That they become best friends with others who have small hands!” laughed Kim as he shows Donald his tiny hands. “And do you know something else with we small hands men?”

“No!” said Trump, hiding his hands now behind his back.

“We always comb our hair in strange ways, so nobody will look at our hands, which is why I want your barber!”

“I don’t think so,” says Donald looking at his hands, “I think I’ll keep the barber, otherwise the ‘Merican people will start looking at my hands!”

“Then I’ll turn the missiles back on America!” says Kim looking dangerous.

Jing Ling-un the barber sensing trouble, comes running, “Boys, boys!” he says cheerfully, “I’ll give you both haircuts, the best in the world, meanwhile why don’t you two play boy games or start exchanging your home spun technologies?”

“Yay!” shouts Trump, “I love boy games and sharing ‘Merican technology! Aim them missiles at Syria will you! I’ll teach you what fun ‘tis to bully small countries!”

“And Donny!” shouts an excited Kim, “I’ll teach you how to keep unwanted outsiders from entering your shores!My Dad and I have been doing that for decades!”

“Yippee!” shouts Trump as he hugs his new friend, “I had a gut feelin’ this trip was gonna be fun..!”

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Many of my friends, a few who had left the country for greener pastures outside, were quite surprised to hear Kumaraswamy’s speech accusing the BJP leaders of trying to start horse trading in the state after the elections, “I didn’t know Karnataka was into horses,” said a friend from Kentucky, as he looked out of his window onto the paddock he owned and which I’d heard had some of the best prize horses in the world, “If I’d known I would have flown some of my best ones down before the elections. I’m sure mine would have given those the BJP are after, a run for their money!”

“The BJP need those horses urgently!” I exclaimed to my horse owning Kentucky friend, “They are allegedly offering 100 crores for the trade!”  

“Hundred crores for horse trading!” asked my friend incredulously, “Let me tell you my horses are better bred than what Modi or Amit Shah want!Can you call and tell them that? Mine are of pedigree stock, some have blue blood in their veins, some, their ancestry from Arabian forefathers! What kind of pedigree do these Karnataka horses have?”

“Basically fourth or fifth standard pass!” I said lamely, “Quite a few are drop outs!”

“There I told you! Mine are thoroughbreds, who can run a whole race, maintaining the same speed and length and giving huge returns to the owner!” whispered my friend urgently, “Please tell Modi that. Do you think those horses he is thinking of buying can last the whole race?”

“No!” I said, “Quite a few of them have already shown signs of giving up if offered the right incentives!Others may withdraw midway if offered more oats or if promoted to head horse or if offered a jockey position!”

“Exactly!” said my friend, “That’s what I’m trying to say, the BJP should stop buying those lame horses and look for others! Whose stables are they buying from?”

“Rahul’s and Gowda’s,” I whispered.

“They’re losers!” said my friend, “Nobody will bet on them!Rahul’s may have been good around 1947, but ever since then they’ve lost their goal and purpose, and who’s this Gowda?”

“His father was once prime minister of India!” I said.

“Never heard of him!” said my friend from Kentucky, “forgive me but quite a few of your PMs didn’t do much but sleep!”

“Yes I know!” I said sadly, remembering a picture of the same Gowda fast asleep.

“You tell Mr Modi not to waste his hundred crores on those horses!” said my friend urgently, “Tell him there’s better horses elsewhere, though as a horse breeder I’d advise him to rear them himself!”

“He tried!” I said quietly, “But he needs eight horses more!”

“Tell him not to horse-trade, “ whispered my friend, “Just be patient for another four years and breed his own horses..!”

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Some chief ministers seem to have gone past the idea of just governing their states into now becoming authorities on every issue under the sun: The observation by Tripura CM Bijlab Kumar Deb, degrading a former Miss World and commenting about her lack of beauty is disgusting and disturbing. According to this very knowledgeable man, ‘she did not have the beauty’ but still won the title.

And that to my mind, is what rape is all about in this country, especially today.

If, according to the chief minister the beauty queen won without being beautiful, then she obviously won because of her confidence in herself. The confidence to stand tall like the most beautiful woman on earth. The confidence to answer questions thrown at her, and the confidence to look a man in the eye as an equal and more!

This is what these men hate! And what better way to show the woman her place then by using the muscle of their hands, their lashing tongues and the other muscle; that in their minds shows their supremacy!

They walk with a swagger along the paths of our country and say aloud as the CM just did, “Look at that girl, walking like she owns the road!”

“She’s not even beautiful,” they say, “Let us show her, her place!”

And without a bit of remorse they do just that, and the poor girl who has either taken a bus late home,or, had the confidence to walk boldly down a lonely road, is either left dead, bruised, broken or butchered, never to walk with confidence again.

Most often never to walk away alive.

Confident women like Diana Hayden frighten these men, and like the husband who assaults his intelligent wife everyday, because he cannot match her brains, these men too use brawn.


…give them ornamental posts, where they can be controlled!

“You take over as headmistress of the school!” says the managing trustee.

“But sir, it has always been given to a man till now!”

“Yes it still is,” sniggers the trustee to himself, as he puts the strong woman in the post and then controls her day to day activities.

And it needn’t just be principals of schools, does it?

It’s men with inferiority complexes and suddenly there seems to be a lot of them who do this, either pulling the woman off the bicycle of life she rides with confidence or putting them in positions they can be controlled. “Sir,” says the puzzled woman after awhile, “The cycle isn’t moving forward!”

“It’s okay,” says the man, holding onto the handlebar, “it is moving the way I want!”

Yes it is, because the movement they want, the moving forward they want, is not the efforts of the confident woman, but the keeping of that woman either in place,or on the ground, writhing as an assault takes place.

There’s rape going on in this country, and it ain’tonly sexual..!

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