Monday Musings – 1
JjS
So the last week gave us- the journalists- a new definition of journalism. Our new PM, new because six months into the saddle, he is still springing out something novel daily from his magic hat, Narendra Modi has categorised the community of journalists as either being fleas or honeybees. Now that is something to ponder about. We all were taught to be watch dogs all these years. A dog which watches over the society as all sleep symbolising that the general public can rely on us for protecting their interests, speaking, errrr… barking, for them. And the watch dog also had the capacity to bite. It had the license to bite. But Modi doesn’t see us as watch dogs. He also forgot to call us the ego-satisfying fourth pillar of the country. A definition which made us feel important like equal to the other pillars- executive, judiciary and the legislature- of democracy. But no, Modi terms puts us in the category of fleas. He says most of us are like flease who sit on garbage and spread it further. He advises us to be honey bees instead, who gather honey and spread it. In other words, he wants us to look at positives and ignore the garbage. But wasn't it was he who took all to garbage heaps and started the swachh bharat campaign. Perhaps I should not think of garbage heaps or the scams and scandals, the anti-people policies, and concentrate on finding some honey somewhere. The big question is the honey needs to be defined.
And this week also disturbed me with a different news related to the ancient world. Our beloved tandoori chicken, our beloved rooster that wakes up in the morning and that was all ours for centuries has been claimed by the Chinese. A recent study has erased the claim of the region that the chicken was first domesticated in China over 10,000 years ago and not in Mohenjodaro- the ancient civilisation site of the Indian sub continent, now in Pakistan. Hate the chinese for taking away that also. Already, they seem to have taken away all our Gods. More idols of Indian Gods are made in China now than in India. That has a positive also. Indian Gods are going global. Now that must be the Honey, Modi was referring to. But he was talking about the Make in India campaign also. May be that is yet to happen. Let us be Honey bee and wait for the Honey only. To be fair to Modi, he did add that the Honey bee stings the worst. May be the time for the sting operation is yet to arrive.
Anyway, let us go to the world of books. I was reading Sita’s curse- a highly erotic novel about an incestuous leanings of a small town girl, intermingled with now fact now fantasy relation of the same woman with a Godman. I have read half. It is yet to develop in some direction. Though, no doubt, it is a hot erotica. It is a timely release. We live in the age of Rampal’s Ashutosh Sharma and Ram Rahim Gurmeet—living godmen all in news for the wrong reasons.
But the best one I may me hands on is a book by Vikram Sathaye titled ‘How Sachin destroyed my life.’ He tells how Sachin’s achievements shadowed his own personal growth, which was not noticed. The style is racy, fresh and full of humour. I am reading on.
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Key words- Modi, Journalism, Sita's curse, Sachin Tendulkar, erotica, media
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