Of Laddus, Heads of State and Chess Champs

During the past few weeks, all manner of happenings in and out of the country have been keeping the news channels buzzing and tongues wagging at every social gathering. So what else is new? Or news? At times we are amused and at other times we are horrified and once in a rare while, we swell with pride.

First things first. Let me get the laddus out of the way. Or to give it a touch of Gallic flavour, l’affaire Tirupati laddus. Were they spiked, doctored or tampered with in some way, shape or form? The secret ingredient that has come under the scanner is the ghee, or clarified butter, that is alleged to be the culprit contributing to the contamination. Beef tallow, cried some. Lard, screamed others. Fish oil, bellowed yet another section. Investigations are on-going, the jury is out and so are the political parties. Out on the streets playing the blame game they are so adept at. The new government at the helm of affairs in Andhra Pradesh (Tirupati comes under its jurisdiction) is laying the blame squarely at the previous incumbent’s door for negligence, while the earlier CM is doing the thing all politicians do so well – the ‘Who, me?’ martyr act. Meanwhile the Deputy CM of Andhra Pradesh went on a 11-day ‘purification ritual’ to atone for somebody else’s alleged sins in the hope that the reigning deity at the temple will not rain fire and brimstone on the whole state. Those who thought they might have consumed the corrupted laddus and feared they were at death’s door or at the very least, could come down with a severe case of the trots, consulted a local doctor. Allopathy or homeopathy, they asked the physician in unison. ‘Venkatachalapathy!’ he intoned on cue, name-checking Tirupati’s all-powerful godhead and raising his hands to the heavens!

From Tirupati’s laddus to international politics, which is quite a leap. India’s Prime Minister, whose foreign travels could have earned him frequent flyer miles that would have kept him in the air for the rest of his life, a prospect his opponents would have devoutly wished for, was in the United States of America last week. He is one-fourth member of the Quad which also includes the USA, Australia and Japan. I am not concerned with the actual details of their deliberations and what earth-shattering decisions the leaders collectively took. All that has been duly recorded and reported. I was taken up with American President (not for long) Joe Biden’s conduct during the presser at the Quad Summit. Over the years, he has gained a reputation for missteps, both literally and in some of his utterances. This time he tripped up by not being able to recall our PM’s name. Siva, Siva! ‘Now, who am I introducing next?’ enquired the President, which many thought was a rhetorical question. When there was pin drop silence from the three Quad members sitting behind him like a congregation of Trappist monks, he raised his voice and demanded in school-masterly fashion, ‘WHO’S NEXT?’ At which point, a public announcement was made and Prime Minister Modi stepped up gingerly to the podium and a relieved Biden put his arm round the PM’s shoulder. Normal service was resumed. An embarrassing moment but pregnant with stifled comedy. Whether Biden suffered a similar memory-loss while introducing the Japanese and Australian heads of state, I am unable to say. Come to that, I cannot readily recall their names either. So, Biden could be more sinned against than sinning. Let us be charitable. After all, the man will be signing off in a few weeks to spend his sunset years in contemplation under a colourful beach umbrella, getting a nice tan, gazing out into the sea.

Still in the United States, the Kamala Harris versus Donald Trump election fandango has been keeping us all riveted. Thanks to YouTube we get both sides of the argument presented with all the bias and bile that we are so accustomed to on our television channels in India. If CNN takes up cudgels on Kamala Harris’s behalf, Fox News trumpets Donald Trump’s virtues, and ne’er the twain shall meet. Mind you, they met face to face at the only television debate that was aired. We are still unsure as to who won that verbal joust. Kamala seems to have had the upper hand, but we have not heard the last of this conflict. The two candidates spew vitriol at each other quite freely, which is par for the course. Sounds familiar? On a personal note, Kamala tends to Colgate-smile and giggle too freely exhibiting all 32 of her pearly teeth in full glare, which is a bit unnerving while Trump has perfected the art of the sullen stare and the blistering barb. Except when he prattles on about immigrants tucking into their canine and feline pets for dinner. Should Trump become President again and pay a state visit to China, at the official dinner he will do well to examine the menu minutely before spearing into one of the meat dishes. Anyhow, the pollsters predict a dead heat between Kamala and Donald. We wait with bated breath.

Cut back to India. Rape and murder have now become the staple diet headlining the news here. Once the state elections get under way, all that will recede into the background. For now, Jack the Ripper is editing our front pages. Every other day, some woman or the other gets raped and / or dismembered and refrigerated or stored in ovens. Foul stench waking the neighbours up, near and dear ones collapsing in shock are a commonplace. In other words, the whole caboodle. When the progeny of a former Prime Minister of India is accused of molesting a domestic helper, amongst others, with water-tight evidence, things have clearly come to a pretty pass. One can only paraphrase Elton John’s lyrics, ‘Lock up your daughters and batten the hatches.’ Edgy crime fiction authors like Ian Rankin, searching for storylines, would be rubbing their hands in glee. ‘A plot, a plot, my kingdom for a plot,’ to misquote Richard III.

A respected hospital, R.G. Kar in Calcutta will forever be branded for the infamous rape killing that took place inside its premises. The culprits have either been caught or, as in the latest case in Bangalore, the alleged perpetrator hightailed it to his hometown in Odisha and there, hanged himself from the nearest tree, mourned by none. Tough on the cops though, who were on his foul scent and felt badly let down by this suicidal maniac taking the law into his own hands. There is nothing more triumphant for a policeman than to bring a murderous crook to book; handcuffed and head covered in a black cloth, with the media close at hand on a feeding frenzy. Though the fiend’s face being covered kind of defeats the purpose of pandering to the ghoulish public’s vicarious, atavistic instincts. All this the cops were denied thanks to the murderer doing himself in. Ah well, in the words of Mick Jagger, ‘You can’t always get what you want.’

It is not all bad news. The sports pages have been bringing us some good cheer in recent days. India thrashed Bangladesh in the first Test in Chennai. And before you say, ‘It was only against Bangladesh,’ may I remind you that they recently decimated Pakistan in a two-Test series. However, recent, disturbing political developments in Bangladesh have given a different edge and twist to our encounters against them. Shades of India versus Pakistan fever is now resurfacing in sporting conflicts with our eastern neighbours who once, I need hardly remind you, were a part of Pakistan. Go on Ashwin, Jadeja and Pant, show them who’s the boss. Seriously though, I wanted to talk only about cheerful sporting matters, but cricket and politics in India are inextricably intertwined and the latter will raise its ugly head. My bad, to employ that unsavoury Americanism.

Let me turn to chess. India won the gold medal in the recently held Chess Olympiad in Budapest. Hallelujah! Clash of cymbals and drumroll please. Our girls and our boys did the country proud with a fabulous performance in Hungary’s capital city. Where once we could boast of one Vishwanathan Anand and every one said one swallow does not a summer make, today we have a whole galaxy of swallows – Gukesh, Praggnanandhaa, Erigaisi, Vidit, Harikrishna, Harika, Vaishali, Divya, Vantika and Tania. Not to mention their coaches. Vaishali and Praggnanandhaa are siblings. How cool is that. And how much ‘anand’ have they provided to the country. They swallowed the opposition whole. What is more, they did not go jumping about and strutting around like footballers and cricketers high on excessive hormones. It was all in a day’s work. Take a bow, you beautiful swallows. May your wings take flight and soar.

Finally, back to our PM but still on chess. Always one with an eye to the main chance and the timely photo-op, our Prime Minister was back home to entertain these brilliant young chess players who brought glory to Bharat, while the cameras clicked away like blazes. He even sat down to observe a friendly game between two of our stars. Known for making many unexpected, strategic moves on the national chess board, whether the PM moved a few pieces over the 64 squares or not, I am not privy. Doubtless our political ‘Shatranj ke Khiladi’ would have been looking for some tips to checkmate his opponents at the hustings with state elections looming large. If our poll pundits are to be believed (that is a big if) the PM’s party is probably on the back foot, playing with black pieces. Time for the Sicilian Defence, Prime Minister.

There I go again, with the politics. Force of habit. Till next time. Adios.