Anna Hazare unleashes the power of One
Aneeta Chakrabarty
It could be a scenario straight out of any decaying empire where the rulers have long stopped to think, feel or act. An old man runs this empire of the corrupt along with his much-loathed foreign sphinx. While the old man manipulates a rickety old congress that belches smoke yet calls it oxygen, the grand dame somberly presides over the tricks of a virulent empire that divides and robs with deadly precision. Rising from the anger of this injustice are a billion people whose hurt and rage have snowballed into a tempest of protests led by a simple man with an epic faith, Anna Hazare (Annaji).
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The Pompous Intellectuals of India
Aneeta Chakrabarty
Welcome to a familiar story of India. The enemy hits us and we do everything but give it a fitting reply. For example, the satanic spooks of the Pakistani ISI armed with a hideous agenda and a killing machine regularly unleash terror and blood on the tranquil snows of Kashmir or the soft heartland of India. In response to this macabre, decades-long assault on the Indian nation, our clueless government retorts mildly with dossiers of peace and compromise. The Pakistanis greet us with accents that drip with loathing and contempt, but we always greet them with a brotherly eagerness yearning to be loved.
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At the crack of dawn, even before the rooster crows, an urban housewife wakes up, scrupulously cleans her kitchen, takes a bath, feeds the crows and throws the trash out into the curving street in front of her house. Sometimes it lands in her neighbor’s yard. The pan-chewing bania down the street does a similar thing with a similar mindset. He keeps his house squeaky clean but walks out into the street and spits his red spit on the road where mangled dogs sift through garbage amidst noisy motorists dodging cows, rodents and an occasional goat.
