To Jump ..or not to Jump.. On Skydiving and in Life.

"I Did it" my 11 year old daughter gleefully runs, looking for her friends, as soon as her tandem harness is released .. Have just seen a quantum of joy in those few nano seconds, as my camera shutter closes .. and the moment is captured. The sense of pride, achievement immediately radiates... From her to me.

"I DID IT " Rehane Gleaming after her Jump

We're on the beach at Senegambia (in The Gambia) where she has just jumped for the first time of her life.  Skydived from 14,000 ft! Egged on by her close friends Pranalee, Disha and little 7 year old Garv, who have just completed the jump a few minutes ago. My hearts been beating, progressively faster, ever since the telephonic discussion the previous night with Garvs father, Manish. "We've managed to get Rehane a slot too" he says! Wow.. I happily, but reluctantly hear the news. I'm giving my daughter permission to leap off an aircraft.  Jamila, my wife, is far more visibly concerned & reluctant. We have a little argument, which I half-heartedly want to lose, but habitually invoke that terrible, all powerful fatherly VETO and walk away from the inconclusive discussion.  Tomorrow we will decide whether we let her or not be a part of this skydiving madness. In the back of my mind, I un-trasnparently hope there's no place on the list. I believe I am successful in not letting my real emotions show. I am, after all, that modern, brave father letting my darling daughter do equally modern and brave things.

Tomorrow, will expose me.

Tomorrow comes. We are a nervous wreck of a family..arguing on virtually everything :  appropriate skydiving clothes, using more obvious as ever, arm twisting method to raise objections. Loose shirts out, shoes with laces, clothing colour - all matter! I scream that were late, trying to disguise all nervousness with a loud voice.  Jamila, opts to stay at home and follow later. I ride the bike with Rehane to Senegambia.  Hidden within my helmet, my thoughts get juggled all the more. I fear we're late only to find that everyone is as late as well. All are arriving as we do. A long walk to the beach and we find that all skydiving slots are pre booked.  Slight relief and disappointment are the immediate respective emotions emerging from the two of us.  But then the ever friendly Belgians, speaking a heavily accented English, countering my efforts to impress them with my French, say they will try and find a slot for Rehane. Emergent emotions reversal  is evident.

But its now time for the first batch to head to the Airport.

The First Group : Pranalee, Disha Garv and Manish

I accompany the first group of four to the airport.  I ride the bike intending to follow their bus, but in a brief jiffy, lose sight of them in my helmet encompassed eyesight.  Accelerating, I eventually reach the Airport well before them, and spend a few long minutes in confused thought. Manish, Disha Garv and Pranalee, the first batch of Indian friends doing the jump soon arrive and are quickly briefed, strapped up. They make a few calls from my phone and then before I ride back quickly to Senegambia,  I see them walk a spacemanish walk to the aircraft. A brief glimpse of the Cessna Caravan on the Tarmac has already taken me back to my aircraft maintenance engineering days. I remember Victor Golf Sierra  (VT-EGS), our own 172 and memories of joy with friends like Javed  and Sree ... Thoughts drift to HIET days with classmates Zohreh n Reza, Theo, Robert, Mohammed .. Mazi...And Ofcourse the wonderful meetings at the reception with John, Swaroop, Joe, KT, Marianne, Kalyani and Bhama... Nice thoughts whiz past, as I zip back to the present and reach Senegambia.

I thought I was quick on the bike, but as I reach Senegambia and briskly walk to the Beach, I see that they have already jumped.. Pop pop pop pop four orange chutes open after a few other coloured ones... And reality sinks in. They've actually jumped! Did we hear anyone scream "PUSH ME..." The dialogue from Farhan Akhtars film "Zindagi ne Milegi Dobara" flashes in my head, as I imagine one of the four friends having to be pushed out of the aircraft...and I see the whole film in a flash in my head.

This was the film that actually started the trend .. the want, for a group of friends to taste adrenalin rushing fantasies of the others. Three friends scoot off to Spain for a Pre wedding bachelor party , each one having to give a go at a sport chosen by the others.. Deep sea diving, skydiving and the Bull Run are their chosen sports. An interesting love story with adventure of the nouveau riche .. Makes great watching with great songs and locations. ... We've been planning an adventure trip to Spain ever since.. Manish has already got himself a Landrover Discovery.. mine is on its way .. A beautiful 4x4 car that features in the film.  The stage is set.....  And then one Sunday at Coco Ocean, we see this Belgian team of skydivers land on the beach in front of us. And theyre advertising Skydiving here in The Gambia. Right  here in The Gambia....!!! The first proposal comes from Manish. Bhavishya, Vipul's bubbly, energetic and fun loving spouse is the first to say YES. The kids are thrilled in unison. Prachi and I have subtle smiles.. I guess we share similar thoughts with Vipul...We'd rather watch. If everyones going to jump, whos going to watch and be impressed?? We joke and laugh (in relief) as we now stand armed with cameras, watch their descent.

The 2nd Group Ronit Rehane Bhavishya & Sachin

Garvs gleeful touchdown

• Whooshing away, the first lot begin touchdowns.... Expecting to see wide open, scared eyes.... am surprised to hear gleeful screams of joy as Pranalee Garv and Disha land first. I capture in amazement, 7 year old Garv gurgling in excitement, wanting to jump immediately again. Pranalee runs to Rehane ..and the two engage in rapid chatter at would've made monkeys or even an AK 47 jealous.  Rehane is all over me.. "Papa, please, please, please..."... and I trudge, confused, to the registration desk.  The next batch, save for Bhavishya, is not yet there. They need to leave for the airport after filling up the registration as well as signing a declaration .... The form says that the maximum insurance they'll pay out is 15,000 Euros... We joke about who's going to benefit, laugh a bit, and then the thoughts get more serious when the lady at the desk says, that if the next lot is not here, and asks if we have anyone else from the remaining bookings.  No one else is there. My heart sinks while Rehanes leaps with joy as her name gets taken down onto that list. Mahesh and Neha quickly volunteer their sons, Sachin and tiny 7 year old Ronit. They will all jump with the leader, Bhavisha.  Rehane opts to ride with me on the bike to the airport. This time I know I can't wait till they've left for the aircraft to leave. My phone once again makes the round. Everyone wants to speak to the family waiting back there at Senegambia. But then as I leave, I realise that my phone is with Ronit , being spoken to rather that peaking to his parents.. . 

The Leap

Free Fall

Touchdown

I rush to the gate and get my phone back and then drive like the devil to the Senegambia. 21 kilometres whiz past.. I don't stop running as I lug my bag, Rehanes helmet and my weighty feelings ... 100 metres short of the beach I hear the aircraft ...and the orange and other coloured parachutes open. No thoughts here and I struggle with my breath to yank out the camera and start shooting pictures .. Not wanting to miss my daughters heroic jump. Now that the parachutes are open, so do my thoughts of worry now change to pride and exaltation. Rehane is the last to land. Bhavisha is loudly screaming and thanking her tandem instructor as well as the camera woman and quickly pointing out that the other cameraman is her husband. I try to rush forward to get a frontal view of Rehane landing but trip on the sandbags and fall into the water. Cricketing experience helps me keep the camera above. I get up and run towards the spot where Rehane is landing. I reach her all excited saying 'awesome, awesome'... Hugging her instructor, running ...  Vipul too gets a gleeful hug, I get an armful bundle and then she runs to spread and share the joy with Pranalee....

It's been a few days and several others have jumped. Ponchy too, egged on by his sisters and cousin. He does it with a slightly humorous belly landing, but is up in a jiffy smiling.  Everyone I know has jumped .  The Evenings are spent at homes watching photographs and the videos.  All posted on Facebook ..mailed to friends and relatives.

I boast that letting someone close to you jump is as difficult as jumping.

Real life decisions make a parallel. To do it or not to do it.

I try to analyse the mindset.. Sitting at the edge of the aircraft door... Why is it that you think, not of the beauty and joy, but of impending disasters ?

Will we ever break this negativity that encompasses us?

My daughter has.. as with the others who jumped. 

Will I be able to overcome this fear?  

I'll never know until I do it. 

The end song of Zindagi ne Milegi Dobara rings in my head and I subconsciously hum it...'Sooraj ki baahon mein... Ye mera Zindagi...' (In the arms of the sun, this is my life....)... And I realise that's it's absolutely true...

I Look around.. I smile. "I've done it" I say to myself.

Re-discovering my African "roots"

My African Roots? ... am not trying to do a Kunta Kinteh here. Alex Haley wont have grounds to sue me for plagiarism :-)
Well, Neither have I ever thought that I don't belong here!
But guess calling it "Roots' may be a bit far fetched..

Well, a few months ago, on a two night transit halt at Addis, enroute from a meeting with old friend Prakash Nainani in Nairobi, Kenya, I decided to take a trip down "memory lane". Not much a 1 to 3 year old would remember I guess... But if you had a dad like mine, who photographed virtually every moment that we lived in Ethiopia ( and elsewhere, until we , the kids took over his cameras , used and abused them and finally lost them too!! ), then youd have something to remember. And his prowess was not just taking photographs. It covered the somewhat painful task of converting them into slides and thus "slideshows" in the old fashioned original sense. Every party that we had at home, involved the somehow, initially exciting yet painful petite task of first arranging the slides, taking care to ensure they were straight, into those plastic trays called magazines.  Then watching these beautiful pictures over and over again, each exercise making us slightly more reluctant volunteers for the task. Every slide that appeared reverse or upside down would bring about the accusatory groans from the viewers. But the pictures gradually became imprinted in our memories. I guess , that built a kind of "factoidish" memory.. to a large extent making us all believe that we actually remembered those photographed events. As we grew, we'd continue to recount stories of African life in Ethiopia. Recount them with a conviction that we were really there and remembered every vivid moment.

And those memories came out all the more vivid today as I drove through the streets of Addis. Each monument matched those amateur professional looking pics that Dad took with exacting clarity.

Fekadu Hailu with his Mercedes Taxi

"You were ONE year old"!!! my hired taxi driver-cum-guide, Fekadu Hailu, disbelievingly asks me if I could really remember??

Ras Hotel

The Lion in fron of the Commercial Bank

HE Haile Sallassies "Indian" Throne

A Slightly out of focus Plaque on the Throne

One of my first stops , after driving past Ras Hotel, the Commercial Bank and its Lion statue that was typical of anything to do with Haile Selassie, is a visit to the LUCY Museum. I run through the museum, quite more out of nostalgia than historical interest.  But Haile Selassies throne in the "Lucy" museum catches my attention. Not for its size and state of wear, but a little plaque on it.  This is one that Dad didn't photograph. But its the sign that calls for my attention. Gifted by the Indian Community to Emperor Selassie in 1935!! Stolen by the "fascist" Italians ( Berlousconis ancestors were not much different in character) and returned in 1972 ( Guess the Berlousconis had shifted their attention to 'other' stuff by then.

Lucy herself is not there, but a copy ( not clone) is theree for unsuspecting visitors like me. Who and where (*** ****) is Lucy?? Shes apparently travelling around museums all over the US of A. Mental images of Lucille Ball float past. I mentally smile, while my museum guide tries to figure out what he said to make me smile. Australopithicus ..he continues giving me the genus of the oldest fossil ever found ... Resembling us humans.... .. Guess a lot of it all started here... The parallel betwen Lucys beginings and mine make me smile.

It started for many of us here in Ethiopia. My begining of an African sojourn and the entire Human race as well. The blogger in me gets that tingling feeling. I share something in common with humankind.

A lot of our history is here in Ethiopia, as is mine.

For humankind it's being eked out out of fossils. For me, from fossilised photographs!

St Georges Beer, Injira, Fresh Meat with Me

Alex Haley would have been proud of me. Both as a hunter of my roots and my efforts to write.

Ram
in Addis, Ethiopia

Guinea Bissau: Frying pans, Fires.. Where Next?

It seems quite paradoxical - we've got so used to the phrase "From the frying pan into the fire"! The situation in Guinea Bissau is beyond the fire now!! I had blogged a couple of years ago on Sanctions : Called it "A Death sentence for the dead" - that was when Obama continued the Bush governments policy of excluding Cuba.. (http://dustbin-by-ram.blogspot.com/2009/03/sanctions-death-sentences-on-dead.html). Now, far closer home, after the failure of talks between the Military Junta from Guinea Bissau and the Ecowas Head of States task force on Mali and Bissau, we hear that sanctions are likely to be imposed on Guinea Bissau. While if this means sanctions on the running Junta alone, it would be a welcome means of trying to resolve the political situation in Bissau. But Sanctions on the Country and it's people, and I'd probably disagree. The people of Guinea Bissau have not imposed the Junta over the seemingly elected government. They probably did not have an option either to elect their government - am not suggesting that the election was rigged, but if you know the history of Guinea Bissau, little has changed for the common person since the last 40 odd years. People survive irrespective of governments. And it is not an impoverished depressing survival. Music, Drink, dance, sex and discussions on fin de semanas (weekends - have a special role in Bissau Life) - have not changed. Though in the last two years there was seemingly some drive towards development - re-structuring of its main road, improvement of the electricity situation ( thanks to a benevolent gesture from the late Ghadaffi), little else changed in Bissau. And virtually nothing changed in rural Bissau.
How would one tackle the current situation then?

Are Sanctions a workable option?

I would suggest the extension of dialogue with the Junta. Firstly because the Chief of the Army who is calling the shots was there as the Chief of the Army under the elected government. Many would suggest that this is ridiculuous as they have not been able to reach an agreement with the Head of States of Ecowas in the discussions of the last few days. But if you delve deep into the Bissau military psyche, it needs a paradigm shift in the thought process - and this can and will take time. If we try to impose our point of view, we're immediately alienating the Army and it's faithful Guerilla In-doctrined majority of Balantas. The Balantas as I know them are a people that rally behind their leaders, irrespective of social or political leaning. Despite the fact that they have led a life that carrys very little trait of development ( as we know it) they seem content. I constantly suggest that they have achieved Nirvana at a very basic level. The Buddha suggested that the end of want or desire, was in itself the Begining of self tranquility or peace. The Balantas of Bissau would qualify quite easily in Buddhist doctrine.
On a more serious note, a Military solution or invasion, would probably resolve some short term dis-obedience issues very easily, but would create a greater divide within Bissau. It would more importantly disrupt the already disrupted lives of Bissau Guineas people. And more importantly, remember the Cashew season is on , and this is the 4-5 month period when a majority of Bissaus population are able to earn their annual livelihood. Cashew is the sole earner for a large part of Bissaus population. Disruption or instability dring the cashew season is like declaring Tea harvesting illegal in Darjeeling during the plucking season!!

But then what did the democratically elected government do last season. They imposed a 50 CFA(100USD)  draconian development tax over and above a 120 USD Tax already existing on the Cashew trade. The earlier tax went to pay Goverment salaries effectively reducing the farmer earnings. This new tax, ownership already in doubt, about 17 Million USD lying unused for over a year (if it hasn't been plundered or whisked away), has squeezed the earnings of the Bissau Guinean farmer even further. A farmer in Senegal , Ziguinchor today earns 300-400 CFA for his produce, while just a few kilometres across, the Bissau Guinean farmer earns 250 CFA since two heavy taxes that sustain the government. ...

A farmer virtually sustaining the government rather than the other way around.

The point I'm making here is that the ECOwas mediation should insist on engaging and remaining within Bissau to support its people rather than going after the Junta. The head of the Army was there within a democratically elected structure. We did nothing then to limit his authority. Now we must Engage positively rather than disengage. It will not be easy. But deadlines will probably not work. The next few days will see what future Bissau has... Where will they head.. They're already in the fire. Perhaps a good time to coin a new phrase..
From the frying pan into the fire? From the fire, where?
Any suggestions?

Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and other tainted figures

Someone just asked me a few days back what the GDP of The Gambia was? And I wondered while responding that it was in the range of 800-900 Million US $. And the rhetorical question was immediately how that compared to that of India... And my mind wandered further. Do we include the Rs. 25,000 Crore (6.25 Billion USD) 2 G scam, the 20-50,000 Crore (6-12 Billion USD) Reddy brothers mining scam... Or the fodder scams or the land scams.... And suddenly these figures don't make any sense any more. Don't make any sense as to the ignorant rest of the world wondering what Lakhs and Crores are.(to the newly inducted into Indian economic figures, a Lakh is a 100,000 but with the separator positioned like this: 1,00,000. A hundred lakhs makes a Crore with the separator positioned like this: 1,00,00,000!!! That's why we are a special country. You will often hear of figures and aspirations. People aspire to be Lakhpatis or Crorepathis! ( do note that you may hear of Corrode-pathis too , but that has only to do with regional pronounciations... Nothing to indicate the deep rooted corrosiveness of our corrupt society!!

I recently set out to buy a house in India and found that the best bet was to drive 70 KM out of Chennai and look at a property just beyond the famed IT Corridoor. 8 lane highway on the OMR ( Old Mahabalipuram Road - an old highway, leading to the historical town of Mamallapuram ) ... the advertisements of this super highway painted a pictue of a Dubai like modern city. As we reached the TOLL booth to enter this famed highway, I realised that neither was the Toll booth like anything I have seen in lesser developed nations than India. And more horrifying was the drive on this toll highway... Traffic was a mayhem. Potholes everywhere. This could have been Mount road or Rangaswami Street in T Nagar. Cattle, cycles, pedestrians, overloaded autos, three-on-a-bike for two wheelers was the norm and of course honking was the icing on the cake. Worse was the filth on the sides of the roads. Plastic bags, bottles, litter, people defacating anywhere.. And one wondered: is this the India Shining story.

Realisation then gradually strikes you (despite the cacophony of the traffic, my thoughts are enlightened) : Despite our politicians, despite the corruption and they mayhem, despite our overflowing population, despite everything negative, we are able to show a substantial growth in our economy. Imagine our GDP if we were able to get rid of these politicians and the corruption that goes with them.

Indias figures could soar if we put an end to the corruption. But how does one do it. An Anna Hazare started it only to be hogged out of the lime light by a hoard of self-heat-seeking-missiles like politicos, yogis, activists and socialites.

A twitterer responded to one of my twits : suggesting that change had to start within. And arm-chair activists would not be of any use she added. But then if I am willing to change myself and am able to convince another arm chair activist to straighten our own figures, how long would it take for change on a nationwide scale.

May be a few hundred years. Or will we have to refer to years in lakhs and crores too, before we see some sense in our figures - GDP or otherwise.

The Gambia
February 2012
In bed feeling Sick ... Partly due to a little bug and of course Also due to political irritants.
P.S. The world bank suggests that the GDP of India is "environ" 17.3 Trillion US$ ... Or should I say about 7,00,00,00,000 Crore Rupees. ( I may have missed out a few zeroes ..but guess that doesn't matter. As Birbal ( the witty jester and advisor in the court of the Mughal emperor Akbar, once retorted when asked about the number of Crows in the capital. He came back with a figure of 1,34,54,787 crows. When asked to prove it, he smiled and replied, Emperor, please get your Ministers to count them and disprove me. If there are lesser, they may have gone to visit relatives and if it exceeds my figure, they may have relatives visiting them. In our case of the exact GDP a few scams more or less.....

A Hazar Anna Hazares

I often wonder how many of us had heard of Anna Hazare over 6 months ago? ( I can of course practically see those intellects stand up, saying that they knew of this Gandhian from Ralegan Siddhi - in typical 'Silencer' ( the fourth and only idiot in the now famous Three Idiots) fashion!! Well I hadn't heard of him. The first mental visual when I heard the name, was that of a blonde spouse of a Cricketing hero. This is typical of the current mental state I am in. I've been trying to practice thinking 'out of the box', that the thought process starts with the most bizarre, furthest out of the box thoughts. Others laugh. I've got used to me. Thus, once convinced that Anna Hazare was indeed a Gandhian, following principles of Non-violence, making a serious effort to fight corruption, my mindset about the person changed. only to be rudely shaken back, into a box, when lo-and-behold, there stood alongside him, the usual suspects - politicos in orange garbs, tantrics wielding political microphonic megaphones, and of course with some brilliant actors too. ( I refer not to the presence of Aamir Khan, whom I genuinely admire, but to the theatrical skills of former employees of TATA Steel and the Indian Police Force, respectively (without respect!) The antics and drama, brought to the forefront of a genuine fight against corruption, have made this make Anna or Team Anna look terribly monologued! They look like the "Lagaan" cricket team at practice. All running like headless chicken! Making mockery of a genuine Indian concern! A Billion people, plagued by corruption, yet living with it in as though in a marriage (An Indian Marriage at that!! No morally acceptable separation)! I read this in a friends comment on the same subject. You realise that a vast majority of us who have just heard of Anna Hazare, feel some sort of empathy. Millions of us. Yet we seem impotent in being able to effectively do something about it. The standard rhetoric is - If you want to do something about It then cast your vote! Or Join Politics. UGH. Well, until we start Overseas NRI voting for the first option. The second option - not an easy one for many of us who don't play games! The first one is a one time option for a full term and thus makes no sense! It would take a tremendous effort to make any change during the tenure. And that's where the problem with our democracy lies. The incumbent politician rakes in the most he can till the next election. The Hazar Hazares will scream and shout, go on hunger strikes. Can they make a difference? Will they be able to reduce corruption? Or are they going to replace an entrenched corrupt system with another one? The more one sees the hanger ons and the dramatists alongside, the less the Hazar Hazares will be seen behind the real Hazare. Nairobi, Enjoying the wonderful climate ...from Indoors!! October, 17th, Wednesday, 2011

Teachers Day

A little note to my schoolmates from KV Tamabaram , from a discussion on Good and Bad Teachers

My two bits on Teachers (in bytes)

Both my parents have been teachers ever since I knew them!!

Thus had the fortune to be "taught" both at home as well as School.

Dad was a Professor of English, and thus in a silent way, nurtured my aptitude for word play and Limericks especially. He let us learn rather than taught us. Mum, on the other hand, was a nursery teacher. She was loved by her children immensely and took nurturing children to a great extent. The flexibility she exhibited at school transformed into firmness at home. She was the one we were a little scared of at home. The verbal ruler she used , and sometimes the physical one, taught us about discipline, and more importantly, we discovered (learnt/innovated) of methods on how to evade detection whenever we indulged, lets say, in behaviour that attracted admonishing!

Thus, between Dad and Mum at home, we learnt a lot about life.

Dad taught us some morals. For Example, one that always remains firmly implanted, is when I was suspected of smoking ( I say suspected purely due to the fact that while everyone knew that I was smoking, I imagined that the strong overpowering flavour of Minty and Supari, could easily camouflage the "mild" fragrance of cigarettes). His stern advice was " if you want to smoke, use your own hard earned money, not mine. " . Mum of course was far more vocal and a little physical.
When I moved out of KV Tambaram, there was an option to join Vanavani (ICSE) or KVIIT. The problem was that Dad was principal at Vanavani..... It took my Dad to understand my plight. A Princis son!!!! Get badgered by your opponents and friends. Do well and it's because you're Princis son. Do bad, and you're the blacksheep of the family. Do nothing and yet be ostracised by friends who want to make Princi or other jokes!! So I studied at KV IIT, escaping the direct wrath of teachers and classmates. Yet our Princi (M T Sreenivasa Iyengar, respectfully shortened to MT) wouldn't hesitate to call up Dad on occasions of minor mis-demeanours.

Life has been tough I would say , but I'd do anything to go back and re-live those stressful moments of school life. I remember the whacking, thrashing that our Sanskrit Panditji gave me for having thought he heard me call him by the local name of the " kudumi"(a short ponytail on an otherwise shaven head, most often on the head of a pundit!!). It wasn't me !! But I got a thrashing of my life, that Drove what few shlokas I did have within, out! He later apologised when Thomas Abraham, very gallantly went to him later, privately, and owned to having used the offending synonym. Thomas got brownie points from all for being honest. I live on with a mental block that's has anything to do with the language of the Gods!!

Thus on Teachers day, I'd like to thank my teachers for putting in and taking out various pieces of a puzzle in me. Is the picture complete? I don't think so.

Cheers
Ram
PS I am a strong believer that character building starts at home and can only be moulded in School. The stronger the clay, the better the pot. The hands that mould can determine the shape, but not the strength.

The Baba Blacksheep of India

While I do know that public mention of a few names/celebrities in my blog may be cause for controversy, I presume that their being public figures entitles us to discus them on a public platform, without prejudice!!

THE BABA BLACKSHEEP OF INDIA

Hear the 'pre-fix' Baba, and instead of imagining a respectful elder preaching good behaviour and peace, we see the likes of power, sex and money hungry bearded saffron clad men using gullible followers to attain nirvanic heights of power, wealth, and possibly ecstacy.

How stupid can we get? We imagine that the likes of a Baba Ramdev or a Sri Sri whatever, or for that matter,even the erstwhile Sai, Maharshi Yogi or Rajneesh - purpotedly to be men of high spiritual intellect and moral benevolence!!  We have become so gullible that we dont look beyond those haunting voices or eyes (eye in Ramdevs case).  Mass hypnotism using Yoga and Spiritualism! Twisting words and advice into shapes that any Yogic Asana would be proud of - they never falter to deceive.

They have their mass following that gets them their revenue.  And then they have the creme de la creme - the Powerful, unscrupulous and corrupt political endorsements.

Religion and Spiritualism have been the best businesses ever. Tax free, Salary free and low investment high return businesses - and mass appeal and following. That is where the similarity with the nursery rhyme begins - Baa Baa Black Sheep refers to a herd - the Babas too have herds. Yes Sir Yes Sir Enough of WOOL to pull over your eyes!!

I stuck a morphed picture (Not taken by me and neither morphed by me) of Anna Hazare (Wh is ANNA Hazare) and Ramdev - morphed into Jai & Veerus famous Yeh Dosti Motorbike picture - signifying the friendship of cause that they both partnered recently - purportedly to fight corruption in Governemnt. I received flak from supporters of Anna and some of the Baa Ba Ba and more - form a friend considering the Congress party being more corrupt than the BJP , and found the arguments worthy of argument.

Anna and Ramdev - Each one promising to fast unto death until corruption in Government died. Sounds funny - but Corrution in Social work and Spiritualism giving their life up to terminate Corruption in Government! Will we see the day when some of our Politicians threated to give up their lives fasting until the Swamis and Babas of the world relinquish corruption and mass duping?

All birds of the same feather and sheep of the same wool!!

Baa Baa
Ram
We, will follow idiotic politicians in Saffron, follow a Sushmita dancing as though in a trance, an Advani preending he is on Arjuns charriot - Accept the disruption caused in Parliament over non-issues - Let a silly saffron clad terrorist to the nation hold us to ransom. 

Where have gone their yogic powers. They too die of common mans illnesses, are kept alive on instuments like ventilators (an instrument of God?).  They will die too inspite of all divine and yogic interventions, But then so will all of us. But were not the ones claiming invincibility and divinity!!!