Friday, October 21, 2011

That dwindling fourth pillar!

As I begin to write this post, news has just poured in about the latest accomplishment by Aman Sethi, correspondent with ‘The Hindu’ in Chattisgarh. Mr. Sethi has bagged the Red Cross Journalism prize for a remarkable story he did in March, 2011 wherein troops of Koya and Cobra commandos in a well-planned combing operation had left three villages incinerating, three women were assaulted, three villagers and three policemen got killed in an operation that was based on a tip-off about an arms factory being run by Maoists in Tarmetla region in Dantewada district.  The only thing this troop did stumble upon in their vanquishing act was a 15-foot memorial built to commemorate the death of Maoists killed in April 2010 encounter.

Sethi happens to belong to that infantry of journalists who are trying to make a dent with their own kind of reporting that is raw, refreshing and informative however disturbing it might seem on the very outset of it. Other brave hearts who also seem to don the part of nothing less than mercenaries are Rahul Pandita whose book ‘The Absent State’ impacted my life rather hard and my perspective towards the disturbed regions of India be it the Red Corridor, North-East or Jammu Kashmir for that matter changed for once and all.

As the Goa Thinkfest congregation contemplates over the topic, “Missing Code: Why people are always angry with the media” one needs to understand the impact of the niche carved by media, its sustenance and the myriad roles that come under one umbrella. First and foremost, a sieve needs to be resurrected whereby the flippant scribes could be filtered from the genuine ones with the former ones being packed and sent off to Papua New Guinea for a fairly long time!

As far as the chagrined state of the general public is concerned there are pretty enough and justifiable reasons behind this rage, though it would be even better if it’s referred to as ‘complete disillusionment’ dawning upon with regards to the fourth pillar of democracy. In the context of India, the country’s faith into some of the top-notch journalists was blown into smithereens with the emergence of the Radia Tapes. Collusion between the business houses and political honchos was a known fact but that news reporters of repute are donning the part of messenger between them, bridging every possible lacuna that might exist did leave us flabbergasted if not shocked with fear!

Similarly the tectonic plates were jolted with utmost intensity in the international arena when the Murdoch Gate appeared as the Goliath ready to gobble away the Brown government in UK. It was still digestible as far as hacking of phones of celebrities and the Royal family is concerned, but poking your nose or rather ears, into Milley Dowler’s voicemail, the teenage girl who was abducted and later on found murdered, was atrocious on part of NOTW (News of The World). If people are riled by these actions it shouldn’t come as a surprise rather a reaction that has come naturally thanks to some pesky critters that thrive on sensationalism and prurience, for this is what comprises bytes or rather scoop for them! Downfall of a 168-year old paper was consequential in the wake of chicanery it had opted for to gain access to an even wider readership base.

Yet I can say that it would be wrong to paint the entire canvass with a single color. Still there is this question lurking at the back of my mind, why it is that I have to pick an ‘Everybody loves a good drought’ by P. Sainath to understand how terribly the government schemes have failed in rural areas.  Why it is that a Kishan Yadav hailing from Godda, Bihar who ferries on his cycle as much as 250 kg of coal for distances ranging from 40-60 kilometers all for a daily wage of Rs. 10 per day never makes it to the front page of newspapers or primetime slot of news channels?

Broadsheets have been transformed into retail shanty wherein ads are bubbling more vivaciously with all the bright pictures, colors and hues, catchy bylines and so on and amidst these you would find news managing to make a dent in the Halloween! Let me concede that full-page advertisements hailing from any sub-domain whatsoever does hurt my sensibility to a large extent! Perhaps there is a need to overhaul the business model that is so heavily dependent on frivolous advertisements as a source of revenue!

By the way can anyone explain to me, what are those risqué pictures of Poonam Pandey doing on the online portal of ‘India Today’? Ok a wannabe is trying to garner attention, why are you facilitating it to the lady anyways?

It was a blank editorial that marked the edition of the Indian Express on June 28th, 1975 as a mark of protest against the emergency imposed by former Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi.
And yes, we are not angry perhaps perturbed at the current state of affairs and mulling over if the loopholes can in fact be plugged. After all, the media orchestrated Anna-Lila has gone off air just a few days back!

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Reciprocated the Wrong Way!

Power of expression is the singular abstract notion that should matter to the concerned audience whenever he is reading or witnessing for that matter. On part of the raconteur, there are boundaries that shouldn’t be transgressed yet there are scribes imbued with a sense to tell the truth in its crudest forms. If you don’t like the stench, one can surely choose to blindfold eyes or clip your nostrils, the fact is that at least the zephyr has nodded to assimilate it all. Yet that unwarranted clash and its drastic consequences send shudders across, the instances telling blatantly to stay within the prescribed limits or else prepare to face the inclement weather.

October 12, 2011 saw Delhi High Court pronouncing its judgment in Shivani Bhatnagar murder case, acquitting the accused, former IPS officer R.K. Sharma, restaurant owner, Sri Bhagwan Sharma and Satya Prakash, proclaiming it as lack of evidence thus allowing them to go scot-free, R.K. Sharma has already spent nine years in dismal period of incarceration. One question that’s being raged vociferously is whether justice been eluded in Shivani Bhatnagar murder case!

 This sensitive case hit the headlines on January 23, 1999 when Shivani was found murdered in her rented East Delhi apartment. The first series of arrest in the high-profile case was made in July, 2002 when Bhagwan Sharma, who was an aide of R.K. Sharma and son of an erstwhile Haryana Police officer, was nabbed by the police and then the hunt for the lord of these henchmen began. It was touted as a ‘crime of passion’ with factoids establishing an out-of-marriage affair between Shivani and R.K. Sharma. Ms. Bhatnagar was the Principal Correspondent with the Indian Express before becoming a prey to a heinous plot wherein she was stabbed and strangulated allegedly by men known to her, being evidenced by the tea that was prepared for the guests arriving at her home on the day of the murder.

When the search initiated by the Delhi Police and its stern measures of releasing R.K. Sharma’s picture along with  a reward of Rs. 50,000 did sound like banshee, it was his wife, Madhu Sharma who was suddenly found crying hoarse, wailing and attracting the attention of the 24*7 media. Mrs. Sharma alleged that her husband was in fact being made scapegoat and her scathing allegations were soon targeted at the BJP poster boy, Pramod Mahajan. The political honcho discarded the entire thing as a mere ‘professional relationship’ agreeing to undergo any test if required in the wake of doubts being raised about Shivani’s four-year-old son.

Truly, dignity adhered to a woman’s character, her victimization and those who had committed the malfeasance, all seemingly complex and inter-woven factors seemed to be in contretemps with each other like never before. After a prolonged game of mouse and cat, R.K. Sharma finally surrendered in Ambala, and henceforth began a legal tussle that was based on call details, and arguments to support the prosecution’s contention. Though the prime accused has been let off by the High Court there are questions that remain unanswered.

As per the prosecution, Shivani had threatened to expose R.K. Sharma under the Official Secrets Act. What was so sensitive that this journo was harboring that could indeed prove to be contentious enough? One of Shivani’s friend, Sajjal Shah has given statement in court asserting that R.K. Sharma had met the deceased when Shivani was pursuing a course in London and he was OSD at PMO thus establishing links of a relation that went way back before Ms. Bhatnagar had probably ventured into the profession.

Seasoned legal practitioners have expressed their disapproval over the judgment with some of the former judges choosing to blackball the recent advancement. Justice Sodhi for instance says that he’s sorry for the judgment while Justice J.D. Kapoor opines that another probe should have been called for. The humorous part of this sordid saga is that though the killer Pradeep’s life sentence has been upheld, his motive behind the crime is still unknown.

Though the key document, ‘Ex. PW 135/28’ (the call records) was found riddled with many blips, yet it dawns to one that the 12-year long journey on the legal turf amidst many rife media speculations and fuelled by political influence has ended on a dead end. Though the boots might have been hung for sure yet it’s the scruples that demand more than has been delivered in this case.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Why do we need to THINK?

(This post is second in series to what one may refer to as a cliffhanger to the Goa Thinkfest being organized by Tehelka)

Treading along in life in almost somnambulate state does transform us into zombies who have a cocoon, alias la-la land of their own. Events, some being pleasant ones others belonging to the catastrophic category and still others contentious enough to cause fissures do keep recurring and we do keep shrugging and thinking, “Eh! How does that affect my life?” If an individual hasn’t been at the epicenter of a hurricane, doesn’t mean that his nest would never be ruffled, if you weren’t beside the seaside doesn’t imply that ripples shall never reach you……

So goes the mystical lines of song sung by Rabbi Shergill:

Jugni dekhan chali desh
Jide janmay si kadi ved
Jidon kadyaa si angrez
Ki banyaa usdaa
Ki banyaa usdaa haal
Kede kite usne kamaal

(Philosophical sage-cum-observer Jugni, a girl is strolling just to see what has become of the country, land where Vedas were transcribed, from where the British were hounded away, to see what the country has landed itself into in present times…)

Just like the graffiti these days in most of the dailies is being dedicated to the Rs. 32 per capita per day poverty line, the overall collage both in the national as well as international arena gives a distorted picture. If the State’s turf has just overcome the jolts given by Anna and his team, brouhaha is being raised against the ongoing Operation Greenhunt, not to forget the much criticized raid on PUCL General Secretary Kavita Srivastava’s house. We might be languishing somewhere near the bottom when it’s about the Human Development Index but when it’s about corrupt practices we certainly do fair better, take a look at the Global Integrity Financial Report if you still suspect my contention! ‘N’ number of scams being unearthed has become a sort of routine, you see ‘I proud to be Indian for any man out there earning a meager Rs. 34/day is not poor and those with bloated bellies sitting at enviable positions continue to splurge and fill their coffers which by default is known to the public by the name of Swiss Bank Accounts!’; the latest in this series being the alleged LIC loan scam worth Rs. 12,000 crores.

Perhaps Pratap Bhanu Mehta is the best person to turn to at this juncture and seek answers to raging questions, if India can ever do something worthwhile for those being relegated to the bottom of the pyramid, if the vertical strata of society be turned into a horizontal one making it a truly egalitarian sect in all respects; if Aam Aadmi can ever muster the courage to wear knuckles against the inequities of sorts being evident in their milieu! (Disclaimer: This certainly doesn’t imply that men with ‘mera baap chor hai’ embossed on their hands take to roads instead of heading towards offices, guess we already had enough of drama on similar lines at Ramlila Grounds)

Let’s take a break and venture across the Indian Ocean and hey! What do we behold here? The Arab Spring might have subsided to an extent but another intifada seems to be on the brink with the Occupy Wall Street movement against financial inequality becoming fiercer with every passing day! Perhaps the world has truly become flatter than ever before and Thomas Friedman is the right person to turn to and seek some answers in this context! After all he did explain the phenomenon that established an instant relationship between the fall of the Berlin Wall and its pervading effect in terms of diffusion of the PC and dotcom wonder!

So here lies the answer to the million dollar question, why do we need to think – the medulla oblongata needs to be jerked a bit here and there randomly instead of shacking it all up so that enhanced sensitivity yields to better reactions from the end of citizens who otherwise land up being sequestered in the lot of grumblers by birth! With the upcoming Goa Thinkfest a cauldron seems to be brewing on simmering flame, this gourmet of thoughts, views and counter-views shall bring forth ideas that would facilitate substantive answers to surging queries, help understand the changing milieu better and most importantly would transcend our very perspective towards myriad issues.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Hu Shuli – The one who took the cudgels against the State

(This post is first in series what one may call as a cliffhanger to the Goa Thinkfest being organized by Tehelka)

As a scribe one of the foremost responsibilities of an individual is to report an event with utmost genuineness without the obvious fudging up of facts. How would you react if as a scribe one is caged in a glass case whereby you can witness the events with their stunning ferocity but when it’s about reporting you are supposed to keep it as a piped down affair? Ugh! What! You’ve already started feeling suffocated questioning your very existence as a snitch! Then this lady’s tale is worth giving attention to who decided to raise her voice as a journo against the very State she was a subject of.

If it was only about caviling for myriad reasons perhaps she would have been lost in the crowd. Hu Shuli called it quits at China’s leading news daily, Worker’s Daily only to become the face of Caijing though this journey was fraught with innumerable pitfalls as much as lessons it brought in for this audacious lady whose temerity was about to set milestones in the regime where strings are pulled when it is sensed that perhaps the horses are galloping way too fast. China is known for its limited freedom to press, an underlying fact that became more than evident in the wake of the Tiananmen Square, 1989 that sent shudders across the globe. One of the fastest growing economies of the globe has its own moribund ways of going about instances recrudescing within its precincts that it either chooses to project or keep under careful wraps.

An article published in NewYorker apprises us of an incident that took place in May, 2008 when the Sichuan province of China was badly hit by an earthquake. No sooner did Hu get the news she immediately set off towards the site of the disaster asking her staff to make arrangements for a satellite phone. This was a bold step taken the fact into consideration that the country doesn’t prefer that kind of Sisyphean coverage of mishaps taking place; a similar quake hit the country way back in 1976 when the government had chosen to keep a mum with regards to the exact death toll rates. So that’s Ms. Shuli – Callous and loquacious and timid only in appearance! Her itinerary of credits includes the various synonyms she earned in her illustrious career with many counterparts hailing from the Chinese as well as foreign turf declaring her as the ‘most dangerous woman in China’.

GoaThinkFest indeed provides with an opportune moment when Hu Shuli would be telling it all how she managed to walk the tight-red-rope all these years. Clambering on to your hard borne contention in a country where journalists are murdered or imprisoned is a feat in itself and Hu has certainly surpassed many obstacles as she bristled past every sojourn. Her tete-a-tete with the Indian en masse also acquires significance in the wake of the recent Kafkaesque that has inflicted a hard-dying blot on the fourth pillar of democracy in India. In the wake of the dwindling state of affairs where politico-journo collusion is being made public through tapes, where biggies in the terrain of journalism are being accused of paid news syndrome with some others trying to snag away their clean collars from the muck of the private equity syndrome, I think an interaction with Hu Shuli would yield to some substantive answers in the Indian context too.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Book Review – When a Tree Shook Delhi

When humans assume carnal form in their thoughts and actions, the notion that is foisted on one and all yields atrocious consequences. Authored by journalist Manoj Mitta along with lawyer H S Phoolka, ‘When a tree shook Delhi’ traces the causes and after math of the anti-Sikh riots that broke out in 1984 in the wake of assassination of former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi.

It was on October 31, 1984 when Indira Gandhi was shot dead by two of her Sikh guards who had taken vows to reinstate the Sikh pride believed to have been denigrated in the wake of the recent Operation Blue Star at the Golden Temple, Amritsar at the behest of Mrs. Gandhi. From November 1, 1984 onwards the country witnessed another reign of genocide in which ethnic cleansing was directed at the turbaned community to vent out the anger of those miffed at the assassination. In the capital city of Delhi alone, as many as 3000 Sikhs were massacred, children were orphaned and their women were raped.  Police chose to play the role of mute spectators while the killing spree continued unabatedly for four days. Subsequent inquiry conducted under the purview of the Justice Ranganath Misra Commission did little to placate the woes of those whose lives had been devastated by the riots. Justice Nanavati Commission fared slightly better though Prime Minister Manmohan Singh had to admit in 2005 that the truth is yet to be retrieved even after the passage of twenty-one years.

Was it possible to nip the riots right in its bud? The instances quoted in the book seem to suggest that if the police hadn’t colluded with murky politicians of the ruling Congress party the catastrophe could have been averted. It all started on October 31, 1984 when the cavalcade of President Zail Singh was on its way to AIIMS where the body of bullet-ridden Indira Gandhi lay. As a group of hooligans hurled their attack towards the President’s troupe with anti-Sikh slogans filling the zephyr of the ambience, Mr. Singh made a hair breadth escape; this instance being quoted in a testimony before the Nanavati Commission by Tarlochan Singh, Zail Singh’s press secretary in 1984. Gross incongruities that were to become order of day soon were still in its nascent stage as suggested by an affidavit filed before the Misra Commission by Kuldip Singh, a resident of the Safdarjung Enclave who was present in AIIMS on October 31 owing to his mother-in-law’s treatment that was going on in the same duration. Kuldip affirmed that till that time not a leaf seemed to be ruffled with many Sikhs also marking their presence at AIIMS expressing their grief and mourning for the unfortunate incident.

How a few sparks here and there were converted into incinerating flames can be understood by looking through the series of events that were inflicted on the city in the form of vicious cycle delivering its malfeasance one after another. In an essay titled ‘The Ghosts of Mrs. Gandhi’ published in The New Yorker in 1995 writer Amitav Ghosh then employed at the Delhi University cites the incident whereby he had just boarded a bus from the Connaught Place to the Safdarjung area, as the bus made its way towards AIIMS a Sardar present in the bus felt pangs of anxiety, in a brief moment of fear he chose to hide underneath a seat. As the group of men who held steel rods and bicycle chain in their hands drew close and were whisked away with the driver and passengers confirming to them that there wasn’t any Sikh among them in the bus; one wonders where were the men in Khaki who should’ve taken some action in the wake of hoodlums trying to create unrest in the city and threatening fellow citizens hailing from a particular community.

Block 11 of Kalyanpuri and Block 32 of Trilokpuri, two residential colonies of Delhi inhabited by Sikhs belonging to low and medium wage earners, these two localities of men and women were transformed into graveyards of burnt and mutilating bodies in a span of few hours as the surging mob of rioters assumed role of individuals gone berserk. When the Sikhs of Block 11 of Kalyanpuri decided to protect themselves and pick up the cudgels against the rambunctious mob, chief of the Kalyanpuri police station, Soor Veer Singh Tyagi barged in with few constables and urged the Sikhs to surrender their weapons under the pretext of measure to liquidate the situation. No sooner the naïve Sikhs handed over their only means of protection than the rioters under the leadership of Dr. Ashok Gupta, representative of Kalyanpuri in the Municipal Corporation of Delhi burst into the Sikh ghetto and lay down mounds of Sikh bodies in a duration of few hours, their tactic of disarmament followed by attack working out wonders for them. More grotesque incidents erupted in Block 32 of Trilokpuri as accounted for by journo, Rahul Bedi and Joseph Malaikan of The Indian Express and Alok Tomar of Jansatta. With the scribes being stopped by the attackers to enter the neighborhood from either entrance, they made their way to the Kalyanpuri police station that had its jurisdiction over Trilokpuri to inform that they in fact smelled the rat out there. The reporters were rebuffed from the police station only to bump into a truck in the vicinity that was garnering horded of flies and had charred bodies of few Sikhs. While 400 Sikhs were brutally killed in Trilokpuri, as many as 1,234 out of 2, 733 Sikhs were killed in East Delhi alone.

Women were among the worst affected in this carnage as they succumbed to the fury of the mobsters, and lost their chastity in the backdrop of their men already being devoured by bunches of lusty and loutish hound dogs. 31 females were abducted from Trilokpuri and held captive for 24-hours in a nearby Chilla village. In a mind-numbing incident being published in a limited-circulation magazine ‘Manushi’ that brought forth the heart wrenching tale of Gurdip Kaur, then 45-years-old who was resident of Trilokpuri and was raped by teenage boys in front of her own son who was burnt alive. While the lady was being ripped off her honor she called out the boys that even they had made their appearance on this Earth through the same passage, her only grief being that she could not save her son as she didn’t have a shred of clothing on her body. The worst thing to have recrudesced is the hard-hitting fact that rape cases have not been reported officially till date and compensations have been offered thereafter to those who have suffered loss of life and property.

With such a beastly attack being waged against the Sikhs by the Congress mercenaries namely HKL Bhagat, Jagdish Tytler, Sajjan Kumar and Kamal Nath; then Prime Minister of India, Rajiv Gandhi in his infamous speech at Boat Club, Delhi instead of paying his and his party’s due condolence chose to remark that when a might tree does fall, its repercussions are bound to be felt. How very insensitive when a thousand of your brethren have left for their heavenly abode just a fortnight ago. It was due to sincere and unrelenting efforts of lawyer like HS Phoolka who appeared as the vanguard of justice for the victims firstly through the Citizens Justice Committee and later on the Carnage Justice Committee that yielded to some sort of relief for those who suffered and scarred for an entire lifetime. The machinations of the perpetrators didn’t end with the riots they bloomed in full spring as they tried to impede legal proceedings. For every affidavit filed on behalf of the victims there was a matching number of what Justice Ranganath referred to as ‘Anti-victim’ affidavits that were farcical and tried to pull the charade in an utmost manner.

This opprobrium that eventually turned out to be a blot on the Indian state compels one to think if a wall needs to be resurrected between those in power and those belonging to the aegis of the democratic institutions. Internecine outcome of the bonhomie between the ruling party and those entrusted with the responsibility of saving and guarding the lives of the general public would have never occurred if the President for that matter was not reduced to being a an addled individual synonymous with a rubber-stamp. As many still believe that, had India dealt with 1984 riots more seriously, the Godhra carnage would have perhaps not taken place, a bloody massacre preying on another minority community yet again. 

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Not-so-affluent Middle Class – Book Review of ‘Mother Pious Lady’!

Amidst those who are born with a silver spoon in their mouths to the impoverished ones struggling to get two meals a day, there exists in India a class that manages to get just enough under the sun. The great Indian bourgeoning Middle Class comes as the filling material that tries to plug the fissures through its aspirations and idiosyncratic ways. ‘Mother Pious Lady’ authored by Santosh Desai gives a kaleidoscopic view of the myriad faces of a segment of a society that almost ten years back used to dangle between a Bajaj scooter and ‘Mere paas maa hai’ syndrome.
It begins with those characteristic features that define life for those trying to eke out a living within the parameters of limited credit amount. Flipping through the pages of the book can very well turn out into a means to hit off the nostalgic lane and revisit those days when urban middle class was trying to figure out the nuances of a plethora of changes that came knocking at their doors. Those ‘n’ number of polythene bags underneath the mattresses, old saris being re-woven into a quilt, those subtle exchange of reactions between a couple without clambering on to PDA (public display of affection), potions of affection served for all in the form of a sumptuous ‘Thali’; these being few of the many finer details that find mention in the book. 
As far as the title is concerned it goes on to explain that psyche of the middle class that believes in perfect presentation on all fronts especially when it’s about a hunt for a prospective match for a daughter. Benevolence has to displayed in every singular action related to looking out for ‘Status Match’, and subsequent paraphernalia associated with BHP (refers to bio-data, horoscope and photograph in matrimony terminology). Needless to say, ‘brother settled in US’ always gives a vantage point to the concerned party. Lavish spending was unknown in daily chores of life and every penny is saved to make the most of it when beti is all set to tread towards her sasural.
From typical bowel habits to the act of unremorseful farting in public, nothing has been spared, not even the clichéd abhorrence for western-style toilets. Buying of vegetables with a grocer is a smart deal if it ends with the procurement of ‘hari mirch and dhania’ absolutely free! There is an inexplicable fondness for timeless flicks like ‘Chupke Chupke’, ‘Bawaarchi’ and ‘Gol Maal’ that remains adhered to the en masse since all these films are imbued with a sense of (in terms of the writer) MCFE (middle class family entertainer). Similarly that magic hovering around old songs is often tried to be revived back via the means of remixes that’s often way too jarring to soothe the sense of audition.
Along with these affable ways there also lay within a hypocrite that would try to put forth a subterfuge to conceal those awkward patches in one’s life. Good example can be drawn from those who believe that ‘preparation for IAS’ or for that matter doing M. Phil, etc. is an easy route to stay in a perpetual state of idleness. Yet the aam aadmi had that ninety-degree inclination towards ‘Neel’ (blue powder) that would render to clothes glistening whiteness and sprinkle on the man who wore that shirt a raging confidence in a crowd of growing mandarins. Journey or ‘Yatra’ was nothing less than a harrowing experience that was inflicted with a panic as far as travelling was concerned; an inland letter and a postcard was looked forward to with palpable excitement associated with the former and rousing anxiousness adhered with the latter, for each of them connoted a sense of personal attention an individual was getting. Scooty did revolutionize the life of a small town girl as she experienced a freedom worth envying compared to her metro counterpart thus allowing her to saunter along the alleys of the city without depending on Papaji and Bhai.
The book changes its gear from being retail in approach in the beginning to assuming pan-India proportion towards the end thus making it difficult to assimilate for a friendly comrade. When the focus is shifted to scarcity of IITs and IIMs, lawyers ending up as spokespersons for political parties, menace such as inflation and terrorism, one tends to withdraw into hibernation as these pertain to the system and not the class the book claims to boast upon. Moreover there are a slew of minutiae that was perhaps overlooked by Mr. Desai. For instance that gourmet charm associated with Pakodi when a guest arrives, the scrutiny that follows a new bride, Bahu in all her overtures from cooking to conducting herself at family functions, penchant for curtains among the middle class as if something has to be muffled out there, that sense of sacrifice in this generation of parents who would not consume goodies but go an extra mile in facilitating convent education to their kiddos. After all, there do exist many subsets that add together to give rise to the large cauldron of the middle class. While some of the foibles and blips make it a dire necessity for the existence of this class, there is a scope for the expansion of the periphery of its thought thereby opening gateways to the emergence of an even strong resilient and morally un-recapitulative part of the society.