Thursday 29 October 2015

Jasoos Kutty's open letter in support of beef policing

Friends,

I hardly write anything, and when I do write them, they are hardly read. But yet I take the pen today to share my mann ki baat as I believe the Parivar is being unfairly targeted over beef politics.

I will tell you a story first.

Once upon a time, many, many years ago, a child was asked to write an essay on floods. But the boy had prepared to write on cow. He very smartly wrote: ‘The floods ravaged our village, bringing down homes and trees. It also took our cows away from us. The cow is a very useful animal. It gives us milk. It gives us dung, which can be used as manure. It also gives us urine which can cure cancer.”

What did you learn from that essay?

Repeat after me.

The cow gives us milk, dung which is good manure, and urine which cures cancer.

Please note this point, the baalak didn’t say cow gives us meat.

I will be blunt with you. Yes, there is beef policing. It is far too evident to be denied. But there is a reason for that. Often things are not as simple as 2 + 2 = 4. Ask a financier, he will add interest and make it 5. Ask a tax consultant, he will add depreciation and make it 3. Beef policing to communalise the polity, as argued by our critics, is far too simple an analysis. No, we don’t do it for votes. No, we don’t want to impose a uniform diet on the population, this when we haven’t been able to impose a uniform civil code.

I will give you some numbers to chew on. Nearly 40% of India ’s population is vegetarian. That in our electoral system would make up a majority, we won power with 38.5% vote share.

Convinced? If not, here are a few more numbers.

Four per cent rural households get their proteins from beef and buffalo meat, just 2% less than mutton. Among urban households, the number goes up to 5% as against 10% for mutton.

Our consumption of meat has increased, and even if it hasn’t, even the present percentage given our huge population adds up to a sizeable amount.
You all , as global citizens, must be aware of global warming. Livestock production contributes to 18% of greenhouse gas emissions as per some studies, second only to energy production. Every bit of meat we eat sends carbon dioxide, methane, nitrous oxide and a few other unnameable gases into the atmosphere. So much so, a science journal says, production of a hamburger emits as much gas as a car that travels 10 miles. In fact a study says the global livestock industry emits more gases than all the world's cars, buses, trains, buses and ships combined.

I will explain it further. If global gas emissions are cut in a significant way, say for example by cutting meat consumption by half, it would fetch you air miles enough for a world tour. Better still, you could get a car each.  We want our bhais and behens to own a car, think of this, a car per family. Is that a crime?

I know it is a lot of gas, but that is the truth.

Seriously, this is no jhumla.

Sabka saath, sabka vikas
Jasoos Narayanan Kutty

If you are still not convinced, I can tell you a story about a dog people threw stones at


Wednesday 21 October 2015

Virender Sehwag, the man who broke the speed barrier

The scoreboard read 295. India were just 5 runs away from breaking a run barrier. None before, not even Sunil Gavaskar, had reached any where near the milestone. Any one else would have chosen the safer route – cover the remaining distance in five strides. But not Virender Sehwag. He settled the issue with a six. The Nawab of Najafgarh became the Sultan of Multan.

The world, however, will remember him for breaking the speed barrier.

Sehwag played Tests like he would play one-dayers and later Twenty20. His first triple century, 309, came off 375 deliveries at a strike rate of 82.4. His second triple, 319 against the South Africans in Chennai, took just 304 balls, a strike rate of more than 104. And he did all this as an opener.

Those were no-flash-in-the-pan moments. He scored his 23 Test hundreds at a strike rate of 83.49, just a shade above a career strike rate of 82.23.  Only four of his 23 hundreds were scored at a strike rate of less than 70. Six of them were more than a run a ball.

Nobody, not Brian Lara, not Sanath Jayasuriya, not Sachin Tendulkar, batted as fast as Sehwag. If they were the Merc and BMW of the cricket circuit, Sehwag was the jet engine propelled Ferrari.

The Nawab was consistent, brutal and thrilling in equal measure. When a batsman, that too an opener, scores at this rate, his team gets that much more time to bowl at the opposition. Eighteen times he scored a hundred, the team didn’t lose the match. But surprisingly, Sehwag, the match winner, went unsung.

His batting, many felt, was ugly. A Rahul Dravid would move his legs to reach the pitch of the ball before driving it to the covers. Sehwag would wonder why. Why should I when I can hit the ball standing where I am. The hook was perhaps the only shot he didn’t master. Maybe because the shot couldn't be played standing at the crease. May be he was too lazy for that. Maybe he didn’t need to.

When Sehwag started, he was called the clone. Sachin's clone. Both played similar backfoot punches, straight drives... Sometime down the line, Sachin slowed, Sehwag didn’t. He carried on like he started, at the same pace, with no eye for the milestones. In the end, the clone proved braver than the original.