Not a Terrorist??

It now feels shameful to say that I had my fingers crossed when Sanjay Dutt was called upon for the verdict.

I’ve always liked him on screen. But more so during the couple of times that I have come face to face with him in the TADA Court. His overpowering individuality and the husky heavy voice leaves me speechless each time I want to start a conversation with him. I’ve tried salvaging this kind of a situation many times by flashing a sweet (a bit seductive) smile. I must confess I have gotten away with it, desirably so.

So when he finally walked those 15 meters towards the witness box, to be bestowed with a verdict that could change his life forever, I was rather nervous. “Accused number 117,” said the judge and my heart missed a beat. He had calmly walked down the aisle and stood quietly facing the judge. The sun rays through the rickety window were playing on his golden hair and peach skin. Were they rays of hope, oblivion or abandonment, nobody but the judge knew.

I had almost resigned to a failed heart when the judge began acquitting him of the charges under the Terrorist and Disruptive Activities Act (TADA.) For a moment I thought he was edging towards freedom. That he would walk out of the long drawn corridor of the court in typical Munnabhai ishtyle- righteous and victorious. But it would have been too surreal. The judge finally convicted him of charges under the Arms Act- a much lighter act. He would eventually get out of it.

I was so relieved. I uncrossed my fingers, to go out there and congratulate him. I did so, even shared an exclusive little tête-à-tête with him. It was the moment of the day. He asked me to call him in a day or two so he could relax and talk to me in peace. Never mind the work deadlines, I gladly gave in. He was the god of all big lures and I had to but abide by his wishes. I argued with the boyfriend on how Sanju baba was the reformed new person and didn’t deserve to be in jail.

I came out of the court gleaming at the verdict, is reaction, the conversation…everything just went right. Only, that I had to come back to office and file a story on the happenings of the day. I made quick calls to lawyers, his friends, film analysts, police commissioners etc etc etc to add that bounce to my story.

And then I began to write….

One by one somehow the horrors of the blast came to my mind. The gore, the blood, the destruction of principles and values. I hadn’t met the victims of the blast ever, nor was I in Mumbai during the blasts. But I do know what it is to lose a loved one.

The reformed new man of today was the baddie of yesterday. He possessed the deadly rifle and by no means was he going to NOT use it. If he had three licensed weapons with him at home, why did he require another one? The judge acquitted him saying he needed the gun for self defence. Well, by that logic I may as well be applying for a grenades license tomorrow.

He was in touch with Dawood Ibrahim. All right, maybe before the blasts, Dawood was just another of the goons who financed films. But what about later? Dutt had the audacity to keep in touch with the “terrorist” Bhais even after he came out of the jail (remember his taped conversation with Chhota Shakeel in 1997?)

His so called friends whom he had ordered to destroy the weapons have been convicted for destroying the evidence- a huge charge. But no where has Dutt been charged with the same. It is very unlikely that grenades, pistols, fire rounds and Ak-56s some to his house, and he knows jack shit about any conspiracy. His close friend Samir Hingora (who also transported the weapons to him) was convicted of the conspiracy of attending the meeting in Dubai to plan the blasts. Did Dutt really not know anything about it??

The evidence is poor, but sometimes common sense makes you want to believe that Dutt isn’t just naïve, he did have something to do with the blasts after all. Why should he be let out only because we as citizens, journalists, movie buffs want to see him dish out another scintillating performance a la Munnabhai?

Yes, I will still go and watch his film, if another one releases. I will still sigh each time he comes on screen. But this time round, my fingers will not be crossed when the higher court delivers the final verdict.

It was the "Happy Children's Day" yesterday!!!

Miss being the Agony Aunt

On her 30th birthday, I told her on a video tape, that it was tough being her agony aunt. Now that she lies in the hospital, painfully paying for something she doesn’t deserve, I think otherwise. I realise that it was maybe listening to her was the simplest part of being best friends with her. That her incessant reliance on me for all troubles big and small, was the way of life for me. And at times I even felt handicapped if I was not the one asked for the proverbial advice. It’s exactly how I feel now.

Visiting her is painful, not because she is suffering, but because she of all the people I know in the world, doesn’t need to be on that white depressing hospital bed. I know for a fact that she will soon be Okay. She is recovering well and I thank god for some mercy.

The news has just hit my ears. She will undergo an operation for her hand, as if the head injury wasn’t bad enough. Yet, I know she will be okay soon, she bloody well be. It’s her duty to clog my ears with gossip, with her troubles and with everything happening in her life.

For so long as I have been this close to her, I have known exactly how she feels, why she does what she does. She says its “freaky,” how well I know her. Such is the predicament now that I see her staring at me and I don’t know what she is thinking. I have nothing to say to her, so I babble a few words like an idiot. Is she feeling the pain or does she want to say something. As I said, it’s a feeling of being handicapped.

She needs to get well soon. She needs to do it fast for me more than herself.

Do I want to be read?

I almost heard from a friend the other day that while I want my blog to be read by others, theirs was just a personal account. This brings me to try and understand the phenomenon of blogging and how it has caught the fancy of each one that can put pieces of words together.

When I was introduced to blogging, what I figured was that I had the option of purchasing a nice handmade paper diary and penning down everything that I was going on in my life, which no one had access to Or, I had this option of writing on the internet and accepting the fact that there would be people reading what I write. For most people who have never been able to express themselves in front of others, this according to me was the most delightful experience. For the meek ones, who can’t talk their feelings out or those who have never written for a news magazine, blogging was the powerful tool. The power of the written word they say can bring down governments. Writing a blog in that sense would empower bloggers to pen down thoughts, facts or anecdotes that would revolve around the lives or the ordinary or the extraordinary.

Also, anyone who logs on to the internet to blog, would also assume that his/her wisdom would be read. Unfortunately, the World Wide Web supports different search engines and web spiders that pick up information and get it back to the search engines. These vicious spiders pick up every word written on the plain white mark of globalization and bounce it on computer screens across the world, to be read, devoured or trashed.

For me I think blogging is fun, not because I am read (actually my comments section proves I don’t have any readers!!) but because I can write without the risk of people knowing who I am. I have the power of being invisible. It’s almost like being Mr India or Miss India. OH but well….I can’t divulge if I am a he or a she.