The Red Corridor

Scenario 01: Two friends, barely out of graduation, get selected for a postmaster's job. They break for lunch, and decide to have a simple meal at the tiny dhaba across the road. No sooner than they leave the post-office that bullets start flying around them, and a fierce gun battle starts between insurgents and the CRPF. They duck their heads and run for cover.

Scenario 02: A bank manager drives to work, looking furtively around him for attackers. He goes to the bank, locks up all the doors from inside. For any customer to enter, they have to identify themselves before the locks can be opened. He tries to make the 50 km journey back home before dark - it would be too dangerous otherwise.

These are not scenes copied from Sholay, and the setting is not militant-infested Kashmir. The two kids are my brother's friends, and the banker is my father. For them, this is just any other day in a tiny village of  interior Orissa. Bridges getting blown off, railway tracks torn off are all absorbed with just a nod of the head. Commonplace.

Sounds incredulous, isn't it?

We are talking about the home-bred, in-house gang of terrorists, AKA Maoists. The Maoist Movement which began as a simple fight for tribal justice has taken on alarming proportions. No longer can they be ignored as innocent tribals fighting for their rights, for food, for education. No longer can they classify themselves as Naxalites, guerrillas, or by any other damn name. They are terrorists, pure and simple.

The Maoist Empire is a staggering 1500 crore rupee corporation; their terror spans several states, most severely hit being Chattisgarh, Jharkhand, Orissa, West Bengal, and Bihar. No, they don't spend a penny to help their fellow men; on the contrary, they extort money from almost everyone, including school teachers. They kill at will, most often than not tagging their victims as police informers. You can get more information on the Maoist modus operandi here.

Bridges, schools, railway tracks, telephone towers, buildings, nothing can escape their wrath. Their latest attack, blowing up a bus with a landmine and killing over 40 people left me open mouthed. Chidambaram says they get their weapons from across the border, maybe from China, and Bangladesh. Ah, what sweet neighbors we have! Pakistan, China, Bangladesh - kudos to you people! It wasn't enough that you took parts of our country with you, you had to continue poking at what's left.

If all of this terror and violence is one side of the story, the other, more important one is how little we have done to combat it. They keep gunning our security personnel down like insects, they kill civilians, they smuggle heavy artillery from across the border right from under our nostrils, and all we do is fart out a "strong statement" saying we will not take it lightly. Manmohan Singh declared them as the most serious internal threat to India's national security (Source: WIKI). Yeah, that should have them quivering and running for cover, right?

We have so many causes that get their quota of attention - Saving tigers, yes, they're important. Treating animals ethically, well, they deserve it. Going green, good for the environment. Do it. But hey, can someone focus on this cause, too? Maybe get to move the government to take stricter measures. At the very least, no more killings. Pull some security personnel from the thousands allocated to all those fatso politicians and place them somewhere where they can feel a sense of pride that they're involved in what they originally signed up for.

No more bloodshed, no more red. Let's say goodbye to the red corridor. I, for one, hate it.

Yes, I am back to farming.

I left my farm high and dry a few months ago, and now I'm back with a vengeance. Most of my waking hours are spent thinking of ways to make my farm better; at least I have no control over what I dream about, so at night thankfully Farmville leaves me alone.

Tending to my livestock, rounding up baby animals, adopting lost ones, sheltering homeless calves, ugly ducklings, and Llamas take the most part of my busy day. I have to admit I have no clue on earth what kind of an animal is the Llama; the closest I've come to knowing a Llama is the Dalai Lama ;-). This doesn't stop me from tending to the animal with great fervour, asking my friends to help if I come across a lost Llama in my farm, et al.

Oh, and yes, I am the proud owner of a library, a school, a couple of greenhouses, cottages with picket fences, a complete forest with every type of tree imaginable - cherry, passion fruit, durian, olive, magnolia, yeah well, you get the idea.

How can I forget the whole business of growing plants?! It is a painstaking process indeed - plow the field, plant seeds, wait for them to grow, harvest them on time, and repeat the damn process all over again. God forbid if you forgot the harvest timing! A bunch of withered crops are not the right way to start the day - they make your heart beat funny and you are subdued for quite some time, without even realizing why.

This experience made me realize how, if I am saddened by a bunch of withered virtual crops that don't even exist, farmers who toil day and night on their farms, waiting patiently for the rains to come on time, would feel if at the end of the day their crops are destroyed by a freak thunderstorm. Heartbreaking, to say the least.

For all you people who loathe Farmville and who make fun of us virtual farmers - please don't. I don't know if I can ever own a library in real life, or if I'll ever have a pretty cottage with white picket fences. I cannot explain it, but when I tend to my farm I feel happy. I feel happpy when I pet my animals and they jump a little, and tiny red hearts come floating out of them. I feel happy when I see my crops ready to be harvested, and I feel happy when I harvest a perfect bunch of red tulips.

Okay, I just realized this post has become too long - enough about farming, now! Will greet you with an entirely different post very shortly :-)