Dated: 28:06:2016


  1. The Indian domestic politics and diplomacy is a caravan of helplessness, riding a carriage of polemics to no destination.
  2. The Indian mathematics is a sabotage of high precision.
  3. G = 6.67×10-11 Nm2/kg2 and E = mc2 are two propositions of doubtful integrity!


There is no end to human ignorance. Ignorance is bona-fide resident of India. People sustain it to live in comfort. Our freedom has in its wake created a class of ultimate exploiters. They wear the armour of law in case their physical and money power gets breached. They can steal mascara from your eyes without even touching you.

Gandhi won us freedom. He was lucky. His associates and his enemies both helped him in his endeavour. He was lucky to see his efforts come to fruition in his own life time. He was immortalised by those who hated him. When enemies cultivate hate as a weapon, they write their own obituaries. He became great in his own life time. He left the world a martyr. He did not wither away like Nehru. He was truly God’s own child, the Christ of modern India!

Jinnah was unlucky to win. “Some defeats are more important than victories!” Had he lost, he might have swept the board. Hate created Pakistan. That is why the political narrative was appropriated by those who had no role in creation of national wealth. The rabble – rousers! The farmer in Pakistan has retained his economic status of pre-partition draught animal. Pakistani state has blessed him with the right to have four wives. He is not only the creator of wealth but a breeder of human resource as well. Pakistan is now a punishment for her own people as also for those who love or hate her.

Good and evil are the upshot of purely Indian civilizational refrain. The predominantly Hindu leadership, aided by the killing of Gandhi quickly divided the society into secular and communal camps- the modern Kaurvas and Pandvas. Like in Pakistan, the political narrative here too was set into motion by those who live off the farmers, aided by those who survive by telling political stories and their moral interpretations. So the social priorities were set by a pre-determined vengeance rather than by intelligent manoeuvring of human resource. The secular- communal hand mill is grinding the people to a pulp. Hatred breeds as much in India as it breeds in Pakistan.

The oft repeated phrase which we hear in intelligent circles is: history repeats itself! What does it mean? It means that nations have to periodically present themselves before History’s Arbiter to seek permission whether to move forward or go back and visit their past to examine what went wrong? Those who think that last word about India has been written and spoken are wrong. Nothing abides.

So in coming thirty years or so India too has to present herself before the Arbiter. Are we prepared to face the day of reckoning? We better start asking ourselves. The British did not survive even ninety years here in Delhi. Dogras Shahi did not last 100 years. Akbar did not become great while sitting in Delhi. There are other examples. The odds of smooth sailing are remote. Let me open the debate.

Down Memory Lane

I was born in Rainawari in the Srinagar city of the Jammu & Kashmir state on October 15 1947. My schooling happened in this very city and later on I went to Gandhi Memorial College and Islamia College in Srinagar. I cleared the Pre-University examination in the year 1964. Having failed to gain admission in the Regional Engineering College Srinagar, which was blocked by the sieve of distributive justice, I sought admission in the diploma course of the Mechanical Engineering in the Kashmir Government Polytechnic for the session 1964-67 and passed out in the summer of 1968.

In the same year, courtesy the Parmeshwari agitation, which happened in the fall of 1967, I was employed in the state service. This agitation had sensitised the then central government to the plight of the unemployed youth especially of the miniscule Kashmiri Pandit minority community. The central government at that point of time came up with the idea of allocating more plan funds to the state to enable it to take care of the rampant unemployment. The plan worked and the unemployed youth (of all religious groups) were employed in the services of the state. Whether the agitation of 1967 by the Kashmiri Pandits tempted the state to move on the path of self- destruction or accelerated that process, I can’t say. But it definitely made the majority community receptive to the idea of flushing out the Pandits from Kashmir as and when that opportunity presented itself before them. So we see the second agrarian reform bill of 1971 sending shivers down the spine of the Pandit peasantry class. The tallest leader of Kashmir, Sheikh Mohammad Abdulla had at that point of time remarked: you don’t hang a person twice, much less when he is an innocent person! Earlier the state had implemented the recommendations of the major land reform bill in the early fifties and passed on the land to the landless peasantry, an act which was appreciated by all and sundry, even by the land owning (mostly Muslim) class. The take away from this latest noble gesture of agrarian reform is that when the state acquires land it uses one uniform scale but when it comes to distributing largesse in the form of employment or admission to professional institutions it resorts to proportional representation formulae. It was this disproportionate treatment which made the minority community to gasp for justice. The cat and mouse match of wits, between the predators and the prey finally reached its climax when the mobs were let loose in an atmosphere of distrust, to dispossess the Pandits of what could not be taken away from them legally. The migration of my community from the valley of Kashmir happened in the winter of 1990.

The wholesale displacement of human societies started in the Indian sub-continent in 1947 in the wake of the partition and creation of Pakistan. The new country continued to throw up the minorities without tickling the conscience of the keepers of the human values. The second wave was let loose in the wake of creation of Bangla Desh. The 3rd wave started when Noor Mohd Taraki assumed office in Afghanistan. The migration from Afghanistan started from 1979 onwards and displaced 5.5 million people and that is a conservative estimate. Ten years later the punishment of displacement was inflicted upon my community only to be followed in the distant Eastern Europe and Balkans. At present the theatre of displacements has shifted to West Asia and Africa.

Europe’s unease

Ever since America gifted two purple bombs to Japan, the third world has hardly had a wink of sleep. That happened in the year 1945. The lack of sleep of the 3rd world resulted in lack of co-ordination between thinking and being of the poor states. The blight of insomnia reached the 2nd world in 1990 when the USSR broke up and the Eastern Europe decided to revisit its past if only to pay homage to their dead generals. The breakup of the USSR gave sleepless nights to Europe and the scourge reached its final destination- the US in September 2001. Ever since the world is witnessing the debilitating effects, the fear can generate in a human being or in a state. “Fear is the key”. The US is mortally afraid now. No wonder it slaps everybody who resembles even remotely, the man they hated so intensely – the man from Saudi Arabia.

It is sad that Europe has now arrived on the chopping board of the History’s butcher. The next 27 years will decide which way Europe has to move. But in all probability it will move on predictable lines. Europe has no youth power. Whatever is available has become appendage of World Wide Web and internet. The Middle East has prevented the immigrant Afro-Asian population to assimilate in the European milieu. This exotic population is like oil slick floating over water. The slick doesn’t grow roots and roots underneath don’t receive the sunlight. The second best option for Europe is to retreat into its shell. And that is where the danger lies. Europeans fail to understand that they have already moved into the post-cultural phase. France is the prisoner of her own principles and drift- existentialism. Algerian hangover has progressed to becoming a severe headache for her. Germany is perhaps in search of a gene pool. Britain is trying its best to wriggle out of EU to save whatever it can. The sun is still kind to Italy. I may be wrong or hallucinating. Only the European scholarship can comment on what I am hinting at. But the two wars did decide the fate of Europe seventy years ago. Why do I feel that the progressive juvenilisation of Europe has already begun!

Farewell to Kashmir

The militancy in Kashmir reached its peak in just four months, when Prof. Mushir- ul- Haq the VC Kashmir University was kidnapped and later on murdered sometime around 13th April ’90. I was naturally weighing my options to leave but always postponed the decision. A very tragic and heart wrenching incident happened on the eve of my migration from Baramulla- Kashmir. In Baramulla, I with my family was putting up in a rented accommodation which happened to be the in-laws of a professor of the College of Agriculture- Sopore. The professor belonged to Sopore but his daughter and son aged 8 and 6 years, were studying in a school in Baramulla. On 3rd may 1990, if I remember the date correctly, the professor brought the two sibling to their maternal house and instructed their grandmother (who was living alone) to send them to school the next day as he had to go to Srinagar for some work.

The next day two known persons of the professor’s neighbourhood came to fetch the siblings on the pretext that their mother had sent for them. My spouse (God bless her soul) sniffed a rat but could do nothing. And when the old lady was about to part with the siblings my wife intervened. “My husband is in the nearby BSF camp. He is the magistrate on duty. He can arrange safe passage for the children”. The two persons without batting an eyelid agreed but left on the promise of returning to pick up the children in half an hour. They never returned. The two ladies locked themselves up inside the house. The presence of mind displayed by my wife had perhaps prevented a possible abduction attempt. The fact of the matter was that I had already surrendered the magisterial mantle before the district administration, as I was transferred to Kupwara-Handwara belt nearer to LOC, where I had joined in March ‘90.

On that day I returned late in the night to my residence. And when I heard about the morning episode I started joining dots mentally but could arrive at no conclusion. The night spent, the morning broke the news that the professor and his wife had been murdered 36 hours before! After killing their parents the murderers had come to butcher the two children. “You too, Brutus!” Was that the expression of ultimate shock, voiced by the dying Emperor in the company of his own loyals or a slap on the face of human decency!

I immediately collected my wits and arranged the transport for carrying whatever could be picked up besides carrying the two orphans and the two ladies away from the midst of some very dangerous population. Since we left Baramulla late in the day we reached Udhampur late in the night. After partaking of some frugal food, the siblings slept like two sanyasins, unmindful of the tragedy that had befallen them. On that day our eyes never dried up. On that day our hearts never stopped weeping. We dozed off fitfully till morning. The first rays of the sun saw me escorting the old lady to her next destination and the siblings to an uncertain future.

After guiding them over to their relatives at Jammu, I took refuge in Udhampur in a private accommodation. During the summer of 1990, I experienced for the first time, the severity of unbearable heat of the plains. But the monsoon came right in time on 1st July and the temperatures cooled down appreciably. The rains however made the migrant camp at Battalbalian look like Napoleon’s battered battle field. The tents were all uprooted and the food stuffs destroyed. Since I had rented a private accommodation, my family was spared the pain of a helpless situation. Later on when the life stabilised at the camp the migrants put up a request for starting a school for the students. I along with some right thinking people took up the cause and the first nitty- gritty of the school took shape in three tents. The building came up later with the help of an NRI (again a person from Rainawari) who had lost his son in a road accident in the USA. The Rishi Model School has now graduated to the level of 8th standard. The migrant camp has since shifted from Battalballian but the CRPF has moved in. The school apart from serving the local population is extending a helping hand to the wards of the police force against nominal fee, much less than what K V Schools charge from the students.

The migration from Kashmir continued for a pretty long time but the Indian press displayed utter indifference towards this human tragedy. Many leaders and their faithfuls in the media weaved stories to justify the migration and projected the villains as the persecuted population. George Fernandez, the union leader after paying a one day visit to Srinagar fired the first salvo: They (Pandits) have not snatched their bread. They have stopped it. Justice Tarakunde went one step further. “They are the last remnants of feudalism in Kashmir.” That is how they rubbed salt into the wound of the uprooted community. But when the Babri Mosque was demolished two years later, all and sundry went into paroxysms of guilt. They collectively mourned the demise of a building beating their fragile breasts. We the Hindus, I must say are a very timid people. We don’t defeat our enemy. We don’t size up the enemy. We make a mental list of possible damages. Beijing (1954), Tashkent, Shimla, Agra, Sharam- El- Sheikh are events of prodigious consequences. Even Man Mohan Singh, the Ex. PM extracted much consolation by shaking hands with the killers of five unarmed Air Force officers, killed in the early period of militancy in Srinagar. We try to convince our enemies. “Look, you are in the wrong and we are in the right.” But when the enemy stares back and puts his foot down, we change tack and say, “O.K, you are in the right and we are in the wrong. Let us have peace now.” And at this time the enemy sets his terms of peace. In lighter vein, give the Hindu a choice: war or corruption? He will choose corruption. This is our civilisation weakness. Give a Muslim the same choice and he will choose war. That is the dictation of his cultural history. War means the spoils of war as well. And if we place the same offer before a European especially the British, he will choose both war and corruption. That is his positional or geographic compulsion. And place the same offer before an American; well that is not a good idea. You can’t afford to offer him a chance to choose from. It is the other way round. “With us or with them!” Yet, he will not only jump for both war and corruption but will also return the favour by offering you the advice: Democracy and Human Rights are the only options before the human race! That is not the display of his Christian enlightenment but Post-Partisan obligation.

While living in Kashmir, I had a very ideal opinion about political and intellectual acumen of the movers and shakers of our capital city. Nehru was a towering personality and his daughter evoked awe and admiration amongst all and sundry. But Rajiv Gandhi didn’t evoke any admiration from the people because he stumbled from one crisis to other from the very beginning. The problems he faced were the bi – products of his own making. The decision to despatch the Indian Army to Sri Lanka in clear violation of our time tested foreign policy was the one foolish decision which provided the West with an opportunity to pay back to us, in equal measure the perceived humiliation suffered by America in the wake of creation of Bangla Desh. The clear cut instructions to the maintenance crew of the Afghan Pipe Line were despatched quickly and the ISI were allowed pilfering arms and ammunition, for diversion to Kashmir. Thus was Kashmir made part of the Afghan liberation war! The decision by an inexperienced and ill-advised Prime Minister sowed the seed of self-destruction in India. Of course the Prime Minister was too young to understand the tragedy of life. He paid the price with his own life and that was tragic. The battered IPKF did return home but is ever since fighting the war albeit at home which will end only when the Afghan war ends. And that has no chance of ending so soon.

In the very first year of migration from Kashmir, I realised that we were governed by very little wisdom. The panic in the rank and file of the ruling class as also the propagandists, upscale intellectuals and social scientists pooled their alarmed low pragmatism and joined forces with the villains. They straightaway developed emotional bonding with the murderers and displayed the rare trait of human evolutionary adaptiveness towards the hostile and abusive situation. My bruised self-respect analysed the vulgar display of Stockholm syndrome of New-Delhi, in the following words:

The Key

I forgot to forget,
My name, my address in duress,
That is the fault of the faultless!

Unfair it is to blame my courage!
She deserted me long before,
the partition could abuse her,
or the Afghans would appease her
with pitiless piety.

Blame it on my size.
My legs, spine- my arms.
My hands can’t hold a longer broom,
to clean the cobwebs of my memory-
the reservoir of shame,
that forges my armour,
moulds my power,
no Alexander can vanquish.

Jinnah Declassified

Most of the academics, politically disposed individuals and the journalists who operate from New-Delhi usually take short cuts to make both ends meet. The historians and the sociologists act along the path of least political resistance to hide the truth without realising that if a person hides his past he has no future. It is the same with a state or a nation. The political class started in 1947 with the promise of creating a castles society but ended up with providing the casts and sub-casts constitutional guarantees. Now every person in India has a cast certificate, a certificate of hope – often a source of disappointment. Same is the case with the historians. In the race for writing the past history, they jump from boulder to boulder to avoid writing about those episodes which are politically forbidden. The basic assumption that we can write the political history of a sub-continent is a juvenile pipe dream. Continents and sub- continents display the magnificence of their civilizational and cultural histories on their own. Our cultural history is a very big cloud of satellite cultures dancing in harmony, enriching each other’s refrain and ethos. Writing about Khyber, the Punjab and Panipat does not cover the history of India. Next from where can the Hindu scholarship borrow the guts, humility and honesty to speak about the truth? For example they brush away the contribution made by Clive in sending the pretence of Moghul power to; using the Marxist lingo, lumber room of history. No Clive meant no end to the bickering of the legatees of feudal lords and no political consolidation of India. No political consolidation meant no freedom struggle. No freedom struggle meant no Ghandi becoming Father of the Nation and no Rabri Devi becoming the Chief Minister of Bihar!

The one upmanship of writing correct history has made us emotionally the prisoners of the story of freedom struggle. That is why the graciousness and decency with which we should interpret our recent history is missing in our political narrative. In 1947 we had a choice to construct the political narrative on hard though painful facts, more so because the price was already extracted by the situation in terms of mass casualties and migrations. But we make a fetish of everything even of the foolish and laughable assertions. The careerist individuals and intellectuals instead of encouraging the political class to take the risk of approaching our needs for truthful interpretation of freedom struggle chose to be guided by a cocktail political ideology. The result is before our own eyes. A handful of people, who have trapped themselves in a web of deceit, are blackmailing a country of the size of India- really a humiliating scenario.

As I look back and scan the historical horizon, I can’t get away from the conviction that it was Clive, who sowed the seeds for deliverance of the Indian masses, and that too in Bengal, when he recorded victory in the battle of Plassey. This yielded the fruits in 1947. Ghandi carried the harvest home while Jinnah carried the fodder to his new home to celebrate the creation of a new state and lighted the bonfire. Jinnah not only carried the fodder but also the land lords and their terrorist armies, ring leaders and rapists (confirm from the UN) to Pakistan. He also carried the future dictators and demagogues, cons and convicts, hustlers and hecklers and low lives and bulk of political nuisance, away from India. It was a good riddance. Jinnah incidentally lifted the intolerable burden off the shoulders of the Indian peasantry, liberated the ordinary Muslim population, who decided to live in India free from their tormentors. The Muslim population in India are a very hardworking and creative people. They have already contributed in many ways towards enriching our economy and civilisation. But the redeeming feature of their social interaction is that they polish our manners. Very simple! Minorities in all countries play a vital social role in balancing the warring factions amongst the majority communities. They teach us the virtue of restraint and humility. They provide the judicial systems the courage to stay course and do justice. They are the most sacred human assets and deserve respect and compassion. But the most important thing is that they think. The majorities don’t think. Their leaders think for them. Minorities cannot afford such a luxury. So the minorities serve as the brains of a society. Why aren’t the Kashmiri Muslims a happier lot now, now that the Pandits are out? Even one Pandit in a village housing say, one thousand souls served as an unpaid shrink and a counsellor for the entire village. But Post 1947 how did India treat the minority Muslim population, which rightly decided to stay back at places where their ancestors were buried? The Indian Constitution placed them under check, ensuring that they are chained to the pole with a double lock! It rewarded them the unsolicited Personal Law. It means that they were herded together, and the keys to the locks were handed over to the clergy. The clergy naturally got empowered and started exploiting them in many ways. And when they started discussing real and perceived dangers to Ummah- emanating from Israel, the youth started getting ideas of jihad and sacrifices. Near home Kashmir was always topmost on the list of topics of the clergy’s weekly addresses, all over India. The consequence of brain washing the youth means that when some of them start flexing their muscles on the streets, the civil authorities take over. So the clergy and the state together make a powerful and seductive combination to keep in check a people who, perhaps need not to roam free! The Indian Muslims deserve to be delivered from the clutches of the clergy. They don’t require the crutches of the state or the recommendations of a Sacchar Committee to move forward and succeed in life.

I would like to draw the attention of those who have studied the works of Marx and Engels seriously, to the essay drafted by Engels titled, ‘The origin of Family, Private property and State’. I had read it when I was a student. Engels argues that the basic building block of the society is the family. The family is the fundamental economic unit that brought stability at one point of time in human pre-history. The family, in turn weaved the human tapestry called the society. When the families produced surpluses, the idea of private property emerged. And in order to protect the private property the institution of the state came into existence. The secret of unrest amongst the Muslim population all over the world has the same origin. The institution of family is very weak amongst all societies of the Muslim world except those of the ruling classes and the Houses of Culture. The men approach their women folk with a primitive and abusive mind set. The absence of control of the women over their fecundity renders them useless within a very short span of time. They usually live on sufferance. They produce children with alarming frequency only at the cost of their health. Having become physically weak they are rendered dispensable. The talaq is the dreaded word amongst the female population and once served with the notice; their off- springs are forced on to the streets where they mature early to the detriment of the society at large. In the Muslim matrimonial market more girls than boys of marriageable age are available. For every male there are about two females available for satisfying carnal desires. Thus conditions for invoking the divine right of divorce by the male population are ripe, in the Muslim societies. By allowing the personal law to Muslims, the parting gifts Jinnah gave to the Indian Muslims inadvertently (weakening of feudalism) were promptly taken away from them by the Indian Constitution. The Indian Muslims never deserved the treatment they received from the elected Hindu ruling classes.

Jinnah did not play only the role of a political scavenger of free India. He single handedly gave the nascent Indian State at least 200 years of head start by depriving the institution of feudalism, in the Indo-Gangetic plane of its organisational and human support system. He achieved what no communist revolution could have achieved. He carried the institution of feudalism to its grave in India. On the other hand, with fresh arrivals of cut throat forces from India he enhanced the power of feudalism in Pakistan. The empowered and entrenched institution of feudalism is what makes the civilian governments irrelevant in Pakistan. These governments only serve as femme-de-chamber(s) of the GHQ Rawalpindi. One has only to compare the life span of peasantry in Pakistan, which is 36 years only with the life span of the Indian peasantry which is 59 years to understand the living conditions of peasantry in Pakistan. And if the population of Pakistan is still increasing one can only imagine with what efficiency the women folk have been trapped in a procreating matrix. To have a grasp of what Jinnah accomplished for the Indians, one has to go through the pre-partition land records of the landlords to understand the power and awe feudalism imposed upon the Indian landless peasantry. The elected Hindu rulers of India were left with completing the mopping up operations only, which they failed to accomplish. We are an incredibly incompetent people! Evidence? Yes, we have tons of it. When the Congress failed to deliver on the promise of land reforms, the services of Vinobha Bhave were commissioned to pull wool over the eyes of the gullible masses. This saint moved from village to village asking from the people to donate whatever land they could part with, for distribution amongst the landless peasantry. The people promised him land but very few did actually donate the land by following up their promises by presenting the land papers to the authorities.

But the greatest gift that Jinnah gave to the Indians was that he offered the Indian National Congress a walk over, in the capital. No Pakistan meant no modern India. A united India, in all probability would have by now metamorphosed into an akhand pugnacious Pakistan! The Hindu scholarship who genuflect in the mosque of secularism five times a day do not possess enough common sense to understand that it was clear victory of communalism over Brahmanical theatrics of threats and brinkmanship and last minute retreats, which delivered the baby called modern India.

The bonfire lit by Jinnah in 1947 is still burning in Pakistan. In the light of this fire Indian historians became enlightened and started weaving stories of the past. Now a peculiar situation has been imposed on the academic turf. With every change of regime at the centre, the clamour for writing the correct history becomes shriller. If one party writes the fictional history the other one writes the absurd folk tales. But no intellectual or academic poses the fundamental question: Why write the history at all? What is the need? Unless we fix the contours and the reference planes of the matter under investigation, we cannot write an objective history. Posing a question and understanding the question is more important than solving the problem. Every genuine problem, and that is my conviction, hides the solution just skin deep on its outer shell.


In 1996 I got an opportunity to get even with the self-appointed guardians of political morality and civility and continuously exposed the hollowness and low pragmatism of their arguments. Both the national new papers, The Times of India and The Hindustan times respected my rejoinders and published the letters frequently. (I shall have to compile all those incisive letters to editors, to save them for study of the interested parties.) Many writers, amongst them Prof. C P Bhambri –JNU left the field in October 1996. Prafulla Bidwai vacated the field some time later when East Timor received the gift of referendum from the UN. Dr Balveer Arora, the then Director of School of Social Studies JNU became very cautious after I showed him the mirror, post taking part in a seminar at Jammu in the year 2000. I also cultivated some fans if I may allow myself the luxury of saying so. Amongst them was the noble H D Shourie of the common cause fame. He wrote to me twice, requesting me to join his organisation which I could not accept because of my other engagements. The late M V Kamath also respected my analysis on issues which were current at that point of time and frequently wrote back to me. The indomitable Khushwant Singh replied on a twenty five paisa post card to appreciate my write up. I still treasure it.

Before I conclude, I want to relate how a visual observation made me to recollect a very important lesson, life had taught me. I was recently travelling from Kapsherda to Najafgarh, New-Delhi and as soon as the vehicle crossed the Najafgarh drain, I exclaimed. “What a waste!” But the next moment I was filled with joy, “what an opportunity of creating millions of jobs in rural India!” The vast campus of Chawlla camp, I know has great potential for rain water harvesting. I made a mental calculation. If one inch (25mm) of rain falls on an area of one square kilometre of land we can harvest 90% of 2.5 lac litres of the rainfall. But that requires a technique which I have already tested in Udhampur. My harvesting tank of 30,000 litre capacity (it overflows five times a year) supplies approximately 1.5 lac litres of rain water annually to the ground which in turn keeps the nearby hand pump healthy. But who will listen? We Indians are really a blessed people. We measure our successes by the yards we lose!

Let us pray for a bountiful monsoon. Let us conserve every drop of water as it falls from the heavens. The secret of survival is encrypted in a dew drop perilously perched on a leaf of grass; a drop of water, a drop of tear. Pain is the only surplus we humans create.The rest is all false and transient.