Kerala Model: Good, Bad or Ugly?

Last year in the middle of the first wave, a neighbor approached me, asking why I wasn’t going to Kerala where it is safe to be. “Jaan hai to jahaan hai”, he said. I stayed put in Delhi. As it happened the virus ran through Kerala as well – the state was the first to report a covid case and the last to peak in the first wave.

Today Kerala is adding more than 10,000 cases to India’s daily caseload every day. The whole country is debating the Kerala model. But why? And what should Kerala do?

Politics

Uttar Pradesh is up for elections. In the second wave, many families in the state lost loved ones. A photo of the departed member hanging on the wall is a grim reminder of the hell they went through those two trying months. Covid is a big election issue. The BJP needs to douse the anger. So its cyber army runs online campaigns pointing to Kerala’s current numbers. We were bad but Kerala is worse. Will it click? Nobody knows. But it certainly has worked as a balm for the diehard fans of PM Narendra Modi and CM Yogi Adityanath.

The numbers

The whole world has been shooting in the dark when it comes to fighting the coronavirus.

The main idea across the world initially was to limit the infections.

Different countries had different strategies. Island nations shut down incoming flights isolating themselves and it worked remarkably well for them.

Others imposed lockdowns. While it helped build infrastructure, reduce load on hospitals, it only slowed the spread of the virus and not stop it.

That was one major lesson learnt. The focus now was on limiting deaths.

Survival of the fittest

Onam is to Kerala what Diwali is to rest of the country. This is when maximum business happens in the state. Two successive years of zero business would mean thousands of traders suffer huge losses. So when the rest of the country is questioning relaxation of norms during Bakrid for three days, people in Kerala are demanding a lifting of lockdown, covid be damned.

Lifting all lockdown norms means racing to reach herd immunity. It also means survival of the fittest. We saw that in Delhi and other north Indian states. Many people I know died without getting proper medical treatment. 

Trust me, it’s a horrible sight.

Imagine spending a whole day working phone numbers looking for a cylinder and oxygen to fill it with.

Imagine hunting for medicines that don’t seem to exist throughout the day and returning to hospital without anything to show for the effort.

Imagine you are a thirty year old struggling to breathe… you can see your wife and friends frantically making calls for ambulances, hospital beds… you can see your little kids looking at you scared and puzzled at what is happening around them… you can feel life draining out of you, the surroundings blur into darkness… you want to say good bye, but can’t find your voice…

Trust me, it’s a horrible sight.

A Malayalee Hindu’s Confession on Citizenship Bill

The Citizenship Amendment Bill is now law. Many of my colleagues on twitter say they feel sad, scared, angry, disappointed. I feel no such emotion.

And why should I? It doesn’t affect me. I am a Hindu. I don't know why Muslims are upset. They are not losing citizenship or anything.

And these protests in the Northeast! To be honest, where is the Northeast? It seems somewhere back of the beyond. I have never been there. I don’t see the region becoming a job hub in the foreseeable future. If and when I go, it will be as a tourist. I will click a few photos to keep at home, a reminder of a good trip.

To be honest I don’t know how many states are there in the Northeast. That would be an exaggeration, there are Seven Sisters. Is Sikkim one of the sisters or a distant cousin or neither? I don’t know.

I learnt the capitals of the seven states to score marks in GK. That done, I readily forgot them the moment I passed out.   

I mean who cares about the Northeast? If it wasn’t for the blank cheque, err passport, for illegal Hindu immigrants and a babaji ka thullu, isn’t that what Kapil Sharma says, for illegal Muslim immigrants, we wouldn’t be wasting any airtime or ink on the Northeast.
You don’t believe me?

Manipur was blockaded for nearly 5 months - that is almost half the year - a couple of years ago. Did anyone notice it? Did anyone cover the news?

Irom Sharmila, a resident of Manipur, was on a hunger strike for 16 years demanding removal of AFSPA. Hardly anyone noticed. AFSPA is still in force in Manipur. Irom just gave up her fight and got married. Her wedding made more headlines than the fast. BTW, she also lost an election somewhere in between. It would be wrong to say nothing fruitful came out of Irom’s hunger strike. A few people wrote her biographies and she got the title ‘Iron Lady’.

This is how much we Indians care for the Northeast.

I don’t know much about CAB, but what I know is it was in the BJP’s manifesto and the party swept the Northeast. It means the people of the region want the law, right? I may be wrong, but I have already admitted I give a damn about the place.

That is not to say I am a heartless soul. I have deep affection for people and things Northeastern. Just like I relish Hyderabadi biryani and mutton kababs, I like momos and red chutney. They are good touchings for rum. Not to speak of the people. They make for wonderful drinking buddies.

Now you know why I don’t feel sad, scared, angry or disappointed over the citizenship bill.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi has mastered one trick. Us versus them. And this ‘us’ is always a lot more significant in numbers than the ‘them’.

At some point, the party’s gaze will turn to Kerala. It fits the bill. Small state. Sizeable Muslim population. Just 20 Lok Sabha seats which the party anyway doesn’t win. It could come in the form of a countrywide beef ban for example. Us versus them.

That is when I will feel sad, scared, angry, disappointed.

Kumbalangi musings

Kumbalangi Nights, where the days are never boring. There is always some action, good or bad.

A family of brothers not on good terms mostly, two of them lazy, one a mute, and the fourth a school student - Kumbalangi Nights is their story.

Along the way you get glimpses of Kerala’s societal issues like moral policing and voluntary unemployment (a word coined by Bibek Debroy), alcoholism, suicides.

It’s a simple story, a simple script, a simple movie.

All the actors do their bit very well, the newcomers included.

To Fahadh Faasil’s credit, he is still not caught in the trappings of superstardom. He is willing to share screen space, even cede space to, capable actors like Shane Nigam, who could well be a superstar in the making, and Soubin Shahir.

Anna Ben as Babymol is cute. The ease with which she plays down an inter-religion marriage saying, “so what, Christ is no stranger to us”, was kola mass.

Kumbalangi Nights ticks all the boxes. It might even appeal to an overseas audience. But that is it. It is a good movie - good but not great.

We expect a lot more from the Dileesh Pothan stable. May I say ‘yeh dil maange more.’ 

SC has got its Sabarimala ruling wrong, horribly wrong

There is no reason in religion. As we say in Malayalam, കഥയിൽ ചോദ്യമില്ല.

For instance, was Ayyappan born of Vishnu and Shiva, or as the story goes - of Mohini, a female incarnation of Vishnu? It is a belief that is the very foundation of the Sabarimala temple.

It is the same for all religions.

Will true followers of Islam find virgins waiting for them in heaven?

Does confessing before a priest wash away sins as Christians believe?

Faith is based on belief, how impossible they might sound.

The foundation of most religions are books written centuries ago, in an age women were indeed treated like chattel (to use Judge Chandrachud’s words in another verdict). These texts that prescribe how to live your life are mostly moral codes, scales tilted heavily in favour of men.

If the court were to apply the same rules of rationality to religions, all of them face a ban.

Every temple has a USP. A legend. A myth. A story.

Dharma Sastha, whose incarnation is Ayyappan thought to be, was happily married. He had not one, but two wives - Poorna and Pushkala.

Even Ayyappan in some stories is married to Prabha and has a son named Sathyakan.

The Lord we worship in Sabarimala is a brahmachari. He has a lover in Leela, who is waiting by his side for the day when no newcomer comes to see him. That is when he will marry her, he has told Leela. So he doesn’t even set his eyes on women. (You can read the story here)

As much as it is a story of Ayyappan’s brahmacharya it is also a story of platonic love, love without expectations, love without desire. A story of waiting and longing. A story of loneliness. A story of pain. A story of sacrifice...

Devotees who trek to Sabarimala are Ayyappans themselves. They have no sex for 40 days, they don’t shave, they don’t wear footwear, they don’t eat meat, they don’t drink alcohol, in short they live the life of a sanyasi.

Menstruation is not part of the story. It sneaked in somehow.

The court must be told, women in Kerala don’t go to temples when they menstruate. They don’t even light the lamp at home during their periods. What does the court plan to do about that? Ayyappan had nothing to do with any of this.

Now that women have been allowed entry into Sabarimala, will they still not go?

Of course they will. If not today, tomorrow. The same women who are pledging they will stop any women from going to the temple will at some point give up the fight and join the trek.

Will the activists who fought for women’s entry go? Some will, to prove a point. Most won’t, because they never believed in Ayyappan anyway.

What the court has done is kill the story. Yes, in the next hundred years or so, the story will adapt to accommodate women devotees. But it won’t be as romantic a story as that of Ayyappan and Leela. The Supreme Court has killed the romance of Sabarimala.

*******************************************************************************

PS: Sabarimala Ayyappan fell prey to a larger political game at play. When the Narendra Modi govt was pushing a ban on triple talaq, people asked questions about gender inequality in Hinduism. Sabarimala too was raked up. The RSS and the BJP advocated women’s entry, welcomed Supreme Court order and now, after sensing the mood on the ground, are protesting the very decision they supported.

In love with Ayyappan: The forgotten story of Leela

(This is an old blog, edited slightly to reflect the current controversy over SC's verdict to allow women entry into Sabarimala)

Manikantan's mind wavered a bit. In front of him stood a beautiful woman. With hair that touched the ground; in the wind that was blowing, it swayed like a wave. Her eyes white, as white as milk. Her eyes enticing, one could get lost it the depth of them. Her eyebrows an absolute arc, as if it belonged to an apsara. She was no less than an apsara.

'Now I know why the devas fight over women,' thought the young prince. As he took in the beauty in front of him, his mind wavered a bit.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? This place is not safe," he said.

She turned her head towards him. She had a smile on her face, and a look of admiration. In awe of the young warrior, she replied, "You do know me. Moments ago you were in a battle with me. I am the Mahishi, the one with the face of a buffalo. You killed me and the devas celebrated by showering flowers on you, by hailing you as the saviour. If you are as kindhearted as they say, if you are the saviour indeed, now is the time to prove that."

"No, you can't be Mahishi. You have such a sweet voice, you are such a beauty."

"Of that, let there be no doubt. I became Mahishi after the gods cursed me. My name is Leela."

"And how can I help you?"

"Marry me, you must. For it were you who saved me from the curse. And you cannot leave me here in the forests, on the banks of the Azhutha, where tigers and leopards roam freely. And death hides in every nook and corner."

Ayyappa stood there in thought. Deliberating. She was asking for the impossible. I have pledged to be a brahmachari. Not for me the pleasures of love and comfort of wealth. I was born a prince, but I will live like a sanyasi. Not even Bhishma did that. And then my mother wants her son to be become the king, not me.

"The Sun rises only in the east. It is a truth that can't be changed. As is my brahmacharya," said Ayyappan, the prince who knows only giving, like Karna of the Mahabharata.

Leela was madly in love with him. She could think of only one life, with him by her side. She begged and cajoled, then she insisted.

"If I ever have a husband, it will be you. My word is as precious as yours. There is no life for me without you," when she said this, her face was filled with sadness, but determination. And that swayed Ayyappan, the prince who knew only to give.

'My birth was an improbability. I had to be born of Hari and Hara, two men. But it happened. Now I have to give a similar boon to Leela, the woman in love with me, whom I can't ditch, for I am responsible for her plight,' so thought Ayyappa.

And then he said, "If I ever marry anybody, it will be you and only you. The year no new devotee comes to see me, I will marry you. Till then you will live here by my side, right next to my hut. My devotees will come to see you as they come to see me. To them you are the Malikapurathamma. And I give you my word, I won't look at any woman other than you."

********************************************************

Leela is in a bad mood. But she has no one to turn to, no one to confide in. In this isolated hill, she has been staying alone, alongside Ayyappan, for many years now. In solitude, in the hope that one day her love will meet success. But a news has come that troubles her. And she doesn't know whether to believe it or not.

"Lord, have you heard what I heard? All these years I lived trusting your word. Never did I trespass into your quarters. Now, a woman says she came here, and even managed to touch you," Leela blurted out.

Ayyappan was lost in his thoughts. Is his brahmacharya that fragile? A vow of celibacy that will break by the mere touch of a woman. Leela was complaining. And her voice grew louder and louder.

Even the divine are not immune to domestic quarrels.

Rape suspect Bishop Franco Mulakkal roams free

Should Mohanlal fight Shashi Tharoor?

Dear Laletta,

You have legions of fans across India. They come from all walks of life; they come from several religions - yes they include Muslims too; most of them are Mammootty ‘haters’ -- they hate him just because they are your fans; many of them are converts from Mammootty fans -- for instance, I am one of them. So if and when you join politics, it as an event of earth shattering magnitude.

Imagine the kind of headlines Malayalam newspapers would carry. Just the thought is mouth watering.

‘Rashtreeyathil Lalettante Savari Giri Giri’  (രാഷ്ട്രീയത്തിൽ ലാലേട്ടന്റെ സവാരിഗിരിഗിരി )

‘Pulimurugan vettakkorungi’(പുലിമുരുഗൻ വേട്ടക്കൊരുങ്ങി)

‘Narasimahavatharam’ (നരസിംഹാവതാരം )

‘Kireedam thedi Araan Thamburan’  (കിരീടം തേടി ആറാം തമ്പുരാൻ)

‘Assembliyil mondoori thallaaan Aadu Thoma’  (അസ്സെംബിയിൽ മുണ്ടൂരി തല്ലാൻ ആട് തോമ)

‘Saffron Salaam’ (സാഫ്രൺ സലാം)

The list could go on and on. 

Your meeting with Prime Minister Narendra Modi has given new life to rumours, which were already doing rounds in Thiruvananthapuram, that you would fight on BJP ticket against Shashi Tharoor. 

It’s been more than 24 hours since some national television channels, one of them you were associated with as a jury member for their award events, and some newspapers ran the story. And all that has come as reaction from you is a terse comment to Malayala Manorama: “I didn’t know I was contesting from Thiruvananthapuram, so I won’t react.”

A clever response which is not an outright denial. What do we make of it? For one, it is clear the thought struck you and you are probably weighing the scales.

But then why would you do that?

After 30 years in public life, it is quite natural to want to do more. As a citizen of the country, you may not be happy with whatever is happening around you. You might feel you can do more and do it better. You may be thinking, as many of us are, the floods probably could have been avoided. You may be thinking, I certainly do believe, that right to food must include right to one bottle rum at least every month.

Important things first. To join politics, you need a party. Your choice of party will reveal more about you than a hundred films you did in the 30 years.

For instance if you join the BJP, you stand for everything that party and its members stand for. For instance they have no problems with lynchings, they promote hate for Muslims, they promote hate for Christians, they promote hate for beef eaters, they promote hate for Kashmiris…. Of course it is your choice.

Till now we don’t know your views about any of the issues listed above. But we do know you have strong feelings about freedom of expression. You had famously said, during the JNU controversy, “People are debating free speech when soldiers are dying on the border.” The statement pretty much proved you don’t believe in free speech.

Do you have any idea how suffocating a world without right to speak your mind would be? Imagine you didn’t like the sambaar your wife cooked but you are barred from telling her that. That is how bad it will be. I could have written more, but you can read my views on this very serious issue in this blog on sedition.

A few months ago a former cricketer tweeted his views about a Hindu-Muslim issue. It was a disgusting tweet. He himself doesn’t tweet those hate mongering stuff, but his PR professionals do. A journalist asked him if he would say the same to the Muslim teammates he shared dressing room with in his playing days. It needed a shove but the cricketer deleted that tweet.  But the tweet left a bitter aftertaste, we fans got to know our idol for what he is worth.

Lalettaa, please don’t do that to us.

ലാലേട്ടൻ എന്ന് വിളിച്ച നാവു കൊണ്ട് സംഘി എന്ന് വിളിപ്പിക്കല്ലേ പ്ളീസ്

With best wishes
Jasoos Narayanan Kutty

We Shall Overcome

Kerala floods: What Arnabs of the world can learn from Malayalam media

The day after Nipah virus outbreak was confirmed, the Malayala Manorama reported it on the frontpage, and set aside an inside page for the dos and don’ts. Sitting in Delhi, I felt the coverage wasn’t enough, felt I needed to know more. I was anxious about my relatives and friends in Kerala. Should they be wearing masks, should they stop eating fruits altogether or just mangoes. The coverage felt incomplete and I tweeted my disappointment.

Weeks later, the virus was contained, the casualty too was minimum. The role of the media was commended by the state government, it didn’t whip up hysteria. A friend here told me, had it been Delhi-based newspapers and TV channels, we would have seen huge photos of bats dripping blood, journalists wearing safety suits reporting kilometres away, yet claim to be the first channel on ground zero, graveyards recreated, etc, etc.

Malayalam TV channels which are normally fond of drama surprisingly pipe down when such grim news breaks.

Take for example the floods in Kerala. For weeks media was speculating on when the Idukki dam shutters would open, many had camped outside the dam 24/7. Trolls had a field day. Nearly one week after the vigil began, one of the trolls commented “If the govt doesn’t open the shutters, the journalists will.”

A Manorama TV anchor was trolled for showing where all Periyar flows through before reaching the Arabian Sea on Google map. This time the trolls said, “Periyar will decide its course after checking with Manorama office.”

And when the shutters were finally opened on Thursday, gone was the exuberance. Reporting has been factual, no one is creating panic, there might be odd incidents, nobody can be perfect all the time.

My family in Delhi is surfing Malayalam channels, many of our relatives live in areas prone to flooding, but I haven’t called anyone in Kerala even once. The coverage of the floods in Kerala has been reassuring, why panic when there is no need to. Yes, it’s a disaster, the government, political leaders and citizens are dealing with it the way it should be. Be patient, this too will pass.

How would Delhi-based channels and newspapers cover the news if this were to happen in the Capital. No, my lips are sealed. I don’t want my friends in Malayalam media to get any ideas. 

Sudani From Nigeria - The Beautiful Film

Malapppuram takes its football seriously, much, much more than how we take our cricket in Delhi. Sudani From Nigeria is about Malappuram’s passion for football. But it is not just about football. It is more about humanity, love, kindness and every other value we find missing in today’s world.

The movie, dare I say, also deals with the rising Islamophobia in the country. The movie is a must-watch for non-Malayalees in Indian cities who rarely mingle with Muslims and harbour scary notions about the community -- like illiteracy, hate for Hindus, soft on terror, Pakistan lovers, etc. In that sense, the movie is as political as they come.

The two grandmothers (Savithri Sreedharan & Sarasa Balussery) on the screen remind us of our grandmothers. The harmless gossip, the unconditional love and affection that comes in the form of savouries, gifts and dua (prayers). How a family tends to an African player who gets injured and pays for the costly treatment, even though he is ruled out for the rest of the season.

Soubin Shahir as Majid, the manager of the team, is brilliant as usual. So is his helpless stepfather, whom Majid despises because he had to serve biryani at his mother’s second wedding.

Samuel Robinson as Sudu is cute .The best scene from the movie for me was when Sudu and Majid exchanged their jerseys, an act that transcends borders, religions, castes, sects, culture…

Sudani From Nigeria is a beautiful movie about the beautiful game and the beautiful people who play it and the beautiful people who love the game.

Eeda, the story of Kannur

I am just back from a vacation and depressed, and I am three Old Monk pegs down, yet I write this, because Eeda is a film that should be watched and talked about.

In the theatre I saw the film, there were two in the audience, I and an IT professional. When the film began, he was sitting in the last row, I somewhere in the middle. After the interval, we took seats next to each other, hoping our change of seats will make sure a good ending for the hero and heroine.

From the beginning the love affair between Anand and Aishwarya was doomed to fail. Their fate was sealed the day they fell in love, Sara had told me (she had watched the movie before me).

The two lovers come from BJP and CPM families in Kannur, that northern district of Kerala which has made national headlines, thanks to the bloodsport played by the two political parties.

The film is more than just a love affair. It is also about the longest political feud of India, one that has claimed over hundred lives in the last five decades or so. The film exposes both BJP and CPM in equal measure, though it doesn’t name them.

Shane Nigam has done a wonderful job, his dad Aby deserved to see his performance. Aby, himself an actor, died a few weeks before the film released.

The real star is Nimisha Sajayan. While writing the review of her previous film Thondimuthalum Driksakshiyum I had to Google-search her name. Now I am a fan.

Nimisha is an unlikely heroine. She isn’t fair, she isn’t glamorous, she isn’t size zero. What she is, is a versatile actor. Her expressions are priceless. The trepidation while proposing, the joy and relief when she knows Anand too likes her, the agony when she knows he comes from a BJP family, the futility, the anguish, the tragedy… You will fall in love with Aishwarya, you will pray for her and Anand, you will feel the despair, you will feel the pain, and you will feel helpless as the story unfolds.

Anand and Aishwarya are Romeo and Juliet, tweeted N.S. Madhavan. How I wish she was Cinderella and he the prince.

PS
This film must be shown to national media journalists who treat Kannur violence as a scorecard just like the BJP and CPM do. Everybody overlooks the human cost.

In my spirited exuberance, I failed to mention writer-director Ajithkumar. He has exposed how the BJP and CPM trample individual liberties in so-called party villages. Expect more and better films from him. 

The Hadiya divide: which side are you on?

For close to a year we have been debating if Shafin Jahan would be a good husband for Hadiya. How nice and caring of us! Especially when most of us in our personal lives find comfort in others’ miseries. It’s a bitter truth, but admit it. For instance, whenever the electricity goes, the first thing I do is ring the neighbour’s bell and see if it’s working. If it doesn’t, well and good. But if it does, then I end up abusing everyone from the power minister to the lineman. The point is we are that kind of people.

Now the trouble is Hadiya is a 25-year-old woman. In India, every woman above the age of 18 can marry whoever she wants. We didn’t question Manju Warrier when she married Dileep, did we? Somewhere deep in our hearts, ഹൃദയത്തിന്റെ വടക്കു കിഴക്കേ അറ്റത്ത്, we all felt she deserved better, but we lived with it.

So what’s different? Hadiya was once upon a time Akhila, a Hindu. And she  married a Muslim. Many conspiracy theorists see love jihad in it. But then what is love jihad? A sinister plot hatched somewhere in the alleys of Syria or Iraq by Abū Bakr al-Baghdadi or possibly the last terror strike by Osama bin Laden before he was taken down by American special forces?

Now there is a problem with that theory. We are then saying women are brainless creatures incapable of anything, not even making their own personal choices like what food to eat, what dress to wear, who to make their partner, which is not a nice thing to say even if you believe it to be true. Every love affair in that case is a terror plot.

Hadiya may be the victim of a conversion racket, but she is certainly not a victim of love jihad. And even if she is a victim of a conversion racket, she is a willing victim. It’s her choice, she is free to follow any religion she wants to.

But let us not deny the existence of a conversion racket. Hadiya did not fall in love with Shafin Jahan. The marriage was arranged by her guardian and Popular Front worker Zainaba. It’s an old trick employed across every sector. It’s called establishing ownership. At a time when Akhila’s conversion to Hadiya was under challenge in the high court, Zainaba and her friends in PFI sought to arrange a wedding. Once the marriage takes place, the conversion is sealed and can’t be undone, so to say.

And long before that, when Akhila approached her friends’ father for advice on knowing Islam better, she was sent to the Sathya Sarani, run by the PFI. Let us be honest. If my daughter’s Muslim friend comes to me wanting to know more about Hinduism, would I send her to the nearest Bajrang Dal office? Never. At the most, I would ask her to read Amar Chitra Katha.  

PS: 1) The article reflects the mood of Kerala, albeit in a mild manner 2) Hadiya’s father by constantly calling Shafin Jahan a terrorist is labelling Muslims as terrorists. Totally uncalled for

Tipu Sultan, the love jihad king?

These days the regulars at Mallan’s bar in Junglistan have a new ritual. They toss a coin to decide what to drink. If it’s ‘heads’, they drink vodka or white rum or arrack or tequila and discuss international affairs. If it’s ‘tails’, they drink whisky or bourbon or rum or beer and discuss Indian history. They adopted this ritual after coming to know this is how English TV channels decide their primetime.

Today the coin said Indian history. The next step is what topic to fight over. They watch TV to decide that. For example tonight they fought over Tipu Sultan. And they are truly democratic in these sparring sessions. These are equal-opportunity drinking fests. They don’t hold your ignorance against you. What it means is the bar always has very lively charayam pe charchas.

“What I don’t like about Tipu Sultan is he converted thousands and thousands of Hindus,” said Kittunni Vakeel, arguing his case with the same vigour he defends his clients in the court.    

“Yes, just think of it,” said Swami Bhojanananda, the spiritual voice of the Jungle republic, “This Ibrahimkutty sitting right next to us was a Hindu once upon a time.”

“His ancestors were, you mean,” corrected Mayilamma, the peahen. You know her as the world’s only species that conceives by drinking tears.

“Yes, of course. If Tipu hadn’t lost his way and come here, Ibrahimkutty could have been a swami like myself.”

“You guys are missing the point,” Murali, Junglistan Times Editor, interrupted. “He is dead and gone, we should talk about something else.”

“This history ritual must end. We should be talking about things that affect us,” said Georgekutty, “Like GST, the ban on firecrackers, vegetable prices, petrol prices.”

“Yes, like the economy, current account deficit, recapitalisation of banks, trade deficit, China’s trade surplus, balance of payments, etc,” offered Mayilappan, whose knowledge of economics could fill more than just the back of a postage stamp, he often claims.

Pachu, the jester in the pack, went into deep thought, weighing the pros and cons of what Mayilappan said. After wracking his brain about what recapitalisation of banks could mean, he confidently offered his view, “I think we are better off debating Jungle Mata Ki Jai.”

“Two rums here please and two BDF,” Bhojanananda continued, “and the kind of atrocities Tipu committed. He would just cut off you know what if Hindus didn’t convert.”

“Then you are wrong Swami. A short while ago you said Ibrahimkutty could have been a swami if his great grandad didn’t convert. The poor guy wouldn’t even be born if his great great granddad didn’t convert,”

“Again you are missing the point,” said Murali, “Tipu might have been a villain for us, but he was a hero for the people of Mysore.”

“He even used rockets in wars,” Ibrahimkutty broke his silence, “The father of Indian missile programme was not A P J Abdul Kalam but Tipu Sultan.”

“Nonsense, what do you think was all the weapons we used in Mahabharata? It is true, we fell on bad times and forgot those stuff.”  

“I think Akbar was a great ruler unlike Tipu, who was tyrant,” Kuyilamma couldn’t stop herself, “That is why he was called Akbar the Great. Nobody ever called the Mysore king Tipu the Great.”

“And do you know who was the father of Love Jihad,” Bhojanananda asked.

“Don’t tell me it was Tipu!”

“Who else?” Bhojanananda said with the authority of Dinanath Batra, “You all have heard about Unniyarcha, the martial arts exponent of Kerala. She was abducted by Tipu and was forced to live as his wife.”

“That is some shady history you are selling Swami.”

“I read it in the Junglistan Times,” Bhojanananda had his defence ready.

“Bhai, if you ask me the point of discussion should be Tipu’s moustache,” said Murali, “What a work of art! Just like the Taj Mahal. We know about his moustache but nothing about its architect.”

“No way, nobody has a moustache like Mohanlal.”

Murali was shouted down by the rest of the crowd.

Welcome Maveli