Of Sundays, op-ed pieces and morning walks...
Sundays are when you also try and
find time to read the newspapers. Often I wonder why newspapers can’t do enough
to make some of the op-ed pieces interesting. Sample, for example, this motley
collection (on the page titled Thought) from today’s Sunday Express Magazine. The
Institution of CAG Deserves More Respect says Upendra Nath Sharma, a former
professor of sociology, in a longish piece whose lead doesn’t wake up the
reader one bit (don’t we all know that the CAG Report has put the government in
the dock?). Manmohan’s Three Monkeys: Fumble, Mumble, Grumble writes another
professor, Pushpesh Pant. So, what’s new? Don’t we all know that too? Do we
need to read a 600-word piece to know more? T.S.R. Subramanian writing about
Moily’s Excellent Ministry and the Blacking Out of Indian Growth has really
nothing special to offer readers – we all know about “bankruptcy in governance
over six decades”, don’t we? And then, there’s the 'evergreen' G. Parthasarathy talking about
Why Af-Pak Border is of Vital Interest to India. Oh come on! Who doesn’t know
this as well and, not surprisingly, there’s not one line in that whole piece
that says something new. Don’t columnists have a retirement age? How do
some of them manage to remain on the op-ed pages for years? Surely, we don't have a dearth of good, thought-provoking writers. May be that is worth a story…
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We had a good attendance at the
Press Institute of India during the three days of talks. Thanks mainly to
students of the Asian
College of Journalism who
not only made it in fairly large numbers but also sat through the talks and
came up with interesting questions. There is always so much scope to learn for
the serious minded. But many of these talks are similar; I have attended so
many over the years. I think we need younger blood to come forward and speak
out on matters that concern them. And having talks/presentations in Tamil
(after all this is Tamil Nadu) in as many places as possible is important if
the message about caring for or taking pride in a city is to be disseminated. Talks
in five-star hotels and clubs or similar places, mostly by the same people
saying the same things, is really not going to make much of a difference.
Because it is the same people who attend each of these meetings year after
year. Which means many, many more people must be roped in to act as
catalysts/coordinators.
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Have finally decided to restart
my early morning walks. It’s been the odd evening walk in recent days but after
yesterday’s experience the “early to bed and early to rise” lullaby keeps
playing in my ears. To motivate me, there’s a new pair of Reebok shoes and I’m
now intent on putting it through the paces.
Yesterday, the traffic was just
too much… so much that I had to jump over imaginary pavements and squeeze my
body through small gaps and between humans and animals. Reason: a political
party meeting round the corner and police having placed barricades to divert
vehicles, while trying to shoo away many who cared a damn. People who receive
the least respect, I learned the hard way yesterday, were those who walked on
our great roads. Drivers of vehicles, all and sundry, would plough through you
if given a chance. It’s like each person hates the other – the cyclist the
pavement walker, the motorcyclist the car driver, the autorickshaw driver the
MTC bus driver… and you can play this
any which way you like… but the common denominator is hatred. Road rage… and it
may be only a matter of time before knives and clubs and guns are used freely
to decide right of way. God help!
And to think that a few of us
were ‘celebrating’ the founding of the city called Madras or Chennai… acting as
catalysts or coordinators during Madras Week… sometimes I wonder what really is
left to like about the city… My mother keeps talking about how wonderful the
place once was, etc etc… My mother can’t believe that a city can take so much
traffic… I tell her if there was discipline, things would have been different.
Look at Bombay…
still years ahead in some of these things… But when will we ever learn! Anyway,
small mercies… the devils don’t wake up too early in the morning, so the
fainthearted like me may perhaps just find some time to take a quick walk and
back.
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