They can see clearly now that the rain is gone!

I am a jealous guy and a confused one at that. Jealous after my two recent observations and conversations with two seemingly mature men who seem so cocksure about everything happening in their lives. I am confused because I am still groping in the dark, trying to make sense of this chance of a lifetime handed to me - to live my life.

Specimen #1 is an octogenarian, a well-established academician whose mind is still as sharp as a man half his age. To top it up, he is still at it - supervising research papers and reading the latest in his field of interest. Naturally, I have a lot of admiration for his stature, his intellect and age. I tease some gems of wisdom from his experience for my consumption.

I was surprised when he attributed all his achievements to the Divine Powers. There was nothing that he did that was his. I asked him definitely he would reach crossroads and would have floundered or perplexed, not knowing which direction to go. It was about these moments that I was interested. Those moments where he was in a betwixt and between that a crucial decision had to be made, I wanted to desperately know how he made those decisions. Again, his answer was simple. He guides me; I do not make any decisions.

I knew he had a giant murthi erected in his prayer room. And he spent a good few hours sitting, praying, meditating and physically talking to the deity. I have been informed that He talks back.

Specimen #2 is another professional who went through a rough patch early in his life. That event left an indelible mark on him. Still, he has come out of it and found peace, so he says. Striking a conversation by chance, he narrated his life lessons. He found solace in solitaire, the company of himself. People are mostly sending negative vibes; stay away. Easily said, I thought. Whether he likes it or not, a professional has to rub paths with people with different dispositions in the scope of his work. Part of his challenges is to ward off these negativities and be professional. Somehow, my twisted mind, at that juncture, I visualised an image of an ostrich burying his head under the sand, refusing to appreciate the dangerous things around him.

My friend advocated activating the body's chakras and awake the kundalini to attain perfect health, which he had achieved. And he was willing to be my guru to pass that knowledge to me.

Being the eternal sceptic I am, I just took these as conversations one has with a fellow train passenger. Come to each other's destination, all the talks and advice given to each other are forgotten as each finds themselves back in the churn of life.

Meanwhile, I remain confused. But happy that, at least, these two specimens do not have to search. The mission in life is crystal clear. They can see clearly now that the rain is gone. Some would classify them as enlightened and have found the reason for their being. Sadly, it would be enough for a man of proof and science. In their interpretation, they are having hallucinations, the grandeur of reference or probably detached from reality!

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No milk today

Ma Ka Doodh (Mother's Milk)
Written, Produced and Directed: Dr Harsha Atmapuri

One of the important reasons for choosing breast milk over formula milk, which is formulated on cow's milk, is that cow's milk is for calves. Just like humans should be fed breast milk.

Calves drink milk when they are young. After a certain age, they start eating adult cow feed. And the mothers stop producing milk soon afterwards. Like calves, humans do not have to drink milk throughout their lives. But, no. We have been advised to include milk in our daily diet to ensure adequate calcium and other vitamins.

This documentary tries to convince us that the reality is far from this. The maker, a doctor turned animal activist, is trying to investigate the milk cattle industry around India on how it is run and how the cows are treated.

There is a concerted effort to criminally increase milk production manifold, much more than cows are actually able to produce in physiological situations. Profit is of paramount importance. It supersedes compassion and kindness. Everything is dollars and cents (or rupees and paise).

We tend to think that nothing can get purer than milk. Its pristine white hue gives it a special place in society that it is fit to be offered to the Gods. What the dairy industry does to cattle is more than cruel. During his lifetime, Gandhi made it a point never to consume cow milk due to the ill-treatment of cows. He only drank goat's milk throughout.

Firstly, only female calves are allowed to survive. Newborn male calves are just killed as they are useless in the cattle industry. Feeding them to adulthood for meat is just not economically viable. Nobody uses bulls for manual work. Tractors have taken over their place.

Cows grow up in restricted spaces, with no chance of roaming around to graze. They are fed in their sheds. Their sheds are poorly cleaned, and the animals live in deplorable conditions. By the way, they will never experience mating, as all procreations are via artificial insemination.

In the meantime, cattle owners sing praises of milk's nutritional and health values in cahoots with the media. As it stands now, milk plays such an essential role in our children's growth and adults' well-being that it is vital to survival. Interestingly, China has had similar benefits from soya milk. Plant milk is superior to cattle rearing from the perspective of leaving carbon footprints and greenhouse effects. Milk from soya, coconut, almond and oat are plant-based.

What happens to cows when they stop producing milk? The farmers would like to think that they are just sold off. In reality, the old cows are transported in the most inhumane manner across borders to states like Bengal and Kerala, where they are slaughtered, again in the most brutal ways, for their meat and leather. Intertwined in this imbroglio are buffaloes, their milk and meat.

There is enough legislation to curb all these issues. Unfortunately, the police and even cow vigilante groups are simply bought over by powerful cartels that control beef and leather production.

The maker of the documentary tells us that for a country that reveres cows and worships them, Indians are not doing enough. He suggests replacing cow milk with soya milk to allay cows' abuse and emotional torment. Unfortunately, the cow protection movement is intrinsically linked to Hindu-Muslim violence. People who oppose cow slaughter are erroneously assumed to be anti-Muslim. And Muslims purposely slay cows to trigger a negative response from the Hindus. 

Now we are in a predicament. We were told to refrain from consuming meat as the industry emits many noxious gases that damage the environment. Then they said, don't consume chicken and eggs as they were raised in battery coops. They had enough place to eat and shed, that's all. 

Then they told me to source organic food. Our vegetables were so tainted that if our coronary vessels do not clog up, the herbicides and pesticides sprayed liberally on the plants will kill us from cancer. 

Even if you opt for organic, we must worry about the seeds used. Generally, we are worried about GMOs, the genetically modified source. We are wary of whether these genetically modified seeds would alter our cell lines., turning us into monsters. 

They also tell us to consume less fish to keep overfishing under check. Increased demand leads to offshore fishing and the depletion of fish and sea life in our oceans. 

I have a funny feeling that all these are just Nature's way of fighting back. It wants to reclaim its territory and not surrender to the whims and fancies of mankind.  

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The better man?

Gunga Din (1939)

Director: George Steven

This Hollywood movie is based on a poem written by Rudyard Kipling. Kipling, as we know, is quite proud of his European heritage. He and the colonial masters of his era vehemently believed that it was the burden of the white race to civilise the natives. They, the native with their odd-looking physiques, their equally funny-looking attires (or lack of), peculiar living habits and bizarre mode of worship by European standards and Judeo-Christian point of reference, are their subject of mockery.

It is a light comedy detailing three disciplinarily-challenged army sergeants sent off to the late 19th century Northwest Frontier of Northern Punjab to check out some disturbances. They find a band of Kaali-worshipping ruthless 'terrorists' @ thugees taking over their post. The story is about how they defeat the thugs with the help of a naive local man named Gunga Din.

Before jumping onto the bandwagon of the woke to blame all our current pathetic state of affairs on the colonial masters, we should remember that Kipling and this movie were off at a time when only the victors could dictate how history should be written. The colonists, because of their native languages, are considered irrelevant, persona-non-grata.

We see the British slave-drilling their subjects on their high horses and looking down on Indians. The Indian collies seem to be bending behind backwards to kill their fellow Indians to earn extra brownie points. Their life ambition was to serve as a soldier to the Queen and the Empire.

The story is based on Kipling's poem about a 'useful' idiot named Gunga Din, a run-around water boy at the beck and call to squeeze some water from his goatskin bag. Despite all the heckling and shoving, Gunga Din's life ambition is to serve his Master and earn his validation. He hopes to be, one day, to be drafted into the British Army. Din does that in style by gunning down his own people and even taking a bullet for his Boss. He is enlisted posthumously and is conferred the rank of corporal. At the film's end, his bosses reminisce about the character running around with a water bag. They look into the horizon calling Din 'a better man' than anyone in the British Army can be.

"... though I've belted you and flayed you,

        by the livin' Gawd that made you,

you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!"

At the outset, from the time of opening credit, the filmmakers made a declaration. They specified that their depiction of Kali worship was based on historical facts. Their idea of facts is what eventually turned out as an 'eyeball delicacy' scene that was seen in 1984's 'Indiana Jones'. They took mugshots at Kali and her worshippers, making them look like buffoons. In actuality, they were merely defending their land. Gunga Din was no 'better man' but a traitor to his own people. It was the people like him who facilitated the 250,000-strong British East India Company soldiers to have control domination over 170 million Indians in 1857.

Much like the Spanish conquistadors swept the Aztec and Mayan temples clean of gold, the British in India also thought it was the birthright to usurp all the gold displayed in the Hindu temples without respect to local ownership. This was daylight robbery. I reckon this must have been no different from what the Muslim invaders did to India before them.

Gunga Din

BY RUDYARD KIPLING

You may talk o’ gin and beer   

When you’re quartered safe out ’ere,   

An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;

But when it comes to slaughter   

You will do your work on water,

An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ’im that’s got it.   

Now in Injia’s sunny clime,   

Where I used to spend my time   

A-servin’ of ’Er Majesty the Queen,   

Of all them blackfaced crew   

The finest man I knew

Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din,   

      He was ‘Din! Din! Din!

   ‘You limpin’ lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!

      ‘Hi! Slippy hitherao

      ‘Water, get it! Panee lao,

   ‘You squidgy-nosed old idols, Gunga Din.’

The uniform ’e wore

Was nothin’ much before,

An’ rather less than ’arf o’ that be’ind,

For a piece o’ twisty rag   

An’ a goatskin water-bag

Was all the field-equipment ’e could find.

When the sweatin’ troop-train lay

In a sidin’ through the day,

Where the ’eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,

We shouted ‘Harry By!’

Till our throats were bricky-dry,

Then we wopped ’im ’cause ’e couldn’t serve us all.

      It was ‘Din! Din! Din!

   ‘You ’eathen, where the mischief ’ave you been?   

      ‘You put some juldee in it

      ‘Or I’ll marrow you this minute

   ‘If you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!’

’E would dot an’ carry one

Till the longest day was done;

An’ ’e didn’t seem to know the use o’ fear.

If we charged or broke or cut,

You could bet your bloomin’ nut,

’E’d be waitin’ fifty paces right flank rear.   

With ’is mussick on ’is back,

’E would skip with our attack,

An’ watch us till the bugles made 'Retire,’   

An’ for all ’is dirty ’ide

’E was white, clear white, inside

When ’e went to tend the wounded under fire!   

      It was ‘Din! Din! Din!’

   With the bullets kickin’ dust-spots on the green.   

      When the cartridges ran out,

      You could hear the front-ranks shout,   

   ‘Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!’

I shan’t forgit the night

When I dropped be’ind the fight

With a bullet where my belt-plate should ’a’ been.   

I was chokin’ mad with thirst,

An’ the man that spied me first

Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.   

’E lifted up my ’ead,

An’ he plugged me where I bled,

An’ ’e guv me ’arf-a-pint o’ water green.

It was crawlin’ and it stunk,

But of all the drinks I’ve drunk,

I’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

      It was 'Din! Din! Din!

   ‘’Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through ’is spleen;   

   ‘’E's chawin’ up the ground,

      ‘An’ ’e’s kickin’ all around:

   ‘For Gawd’s sake git the water, Gunga Din!’

’E carried me away

To where a dooli lay,

An’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean.   

’E put me safe inside,

An’ just before ’e died,

'I ’ope you liked your drink,’ sez Gunga Din.   

So I’ll meet ’im later on

At the place where ’e is gone—

Where it’s always double drill and no canteen.   

’E’ll be squattin’ on the coals

Givin’ drink to poor damned souls,

An’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!   

      Yes, Din! Din! Din!

   You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!   

   Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,   

      By the livin’ Gawd that made you,

   You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

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The blind guiding the blind?

Guide (1965)
Director: Vijay Anand

I was squeezing my brain, trying to determine the movie's premise. Then, it dawned upon me. We are all walking around aimlessly, looking for someone, anyone, to guide us through the path of life. We are a confused lot. Neither the Guide leading is cocksure that he is leading along the right track, nor we, the seekers, are good at picking out the correct guidance.

We are impressed with the explanation of the tourist guide who managed to sell us the beauty of the place he was promoting. His persuasive speech guides us to appreciate its backstory. Language is a lubricant that eases this exercise. 

That must be it, language. The power of speech is the one that guides us to look for that utopia that we are seeking. We think we will be out of the rut we have entrapped ourselves in. Sadly, after making the necessary changes, we are happy but just for a short duration. Pretty soon, we are embroiled in the same quagmire, looking for another seemingly unreachable goal. Along the way, our primal desires draw more tentacles of misery.

How, then, should we proceed afterwards? Take all that as life experiences that make our lives more meaningful, more colourful or as life lessons? Do you want a life with no undulations but a dull, predictable path?

The 1965 movie simultaneously in English and Hindi with the names 'The Guide' and 'Guide' respectively. It was based on a novel by RK Narayan. Interestingly both stories employ the same cast, but the storyline is slightly altered to satisfy their target audiences. Minus from the English version where the main stars converse Indian-accented proper English are the classic evergreen songs that appear in Hindi. These songs are still enjoyed by all today. Also missing is the emotional display and philosophical, existential soliloquy that are quite pathognomic of Indian cinema. The features are indeed the ones that make Indian movies Indian.

Unquestionably, in my books, the Hindi turned out tops. It is more engaging and brings out the message embedded in the story. 

This movie was not without controversy on release. The idea of an Indian wife leaving the marriage to live with another may be challenging for a mid-1960s Indian public to stomach. A married woman dancing her way to fame may not go well with them either.

Raju, a street-smart tourist guide, meets Marco and his trophy wife, Rosie, to show them around town. Marco, an archaeologist, is only interested in exploring the caves around there. Raju takes the frustrated Rosie sightseeing. Watching a traditional dancer performing a snake dance, her suppressed inner desire comes to the fore. Rosie's mother was a poor courtesan, and Rosie herself was an avid classical dancer. She left all that after her marriage to Marco. That was the deal for the wedding - Marco's aristocratic background would clear Rosie's blemished origins. 

One thing led to another, and her marriage crumbled. Rosie moves in to live with Raju. An unhappy Raju's mother is moved out. Rosie and Raju reach dizzying heights via her dance. The insecure Raju fears that Rosie may go back to Marco. He forges her signature on some bank documents and is charged. Rosie and Raju's manager-lover arrangement collapses. 

The Hindi version has dialogues
of dharma, soul and redemption.

Raju takes a long trip to nowhere and is mistaken for a guru. His one-liners and philosophical talks excite the masses. The word about him goes around. Raju is coaxed to go on a 12-day fast to pray for rain. His feat goes in the press. Both his mother and Rosie come to the scene. The ending depends on where you consume the story- the book, the Hindi or the English version. They differ.

In Raju's 'second avatar' as a holy man, it is also language that strikes a chord with people. The power of the language comforts the aimless seekers of divine intervention. Word soothes, motivates, and pushes an agenda. Conversely, it is the very same word that cuts, hurts and destroys an institution quite august.

P.S. A certain young Gujarati boy who would later grow up to be the Prime Minister of India, a certain Narendra Modi, was moved by this movie. In the end, he thought that 'Guide's primary theme was that everyone gets guidance from their conscience.

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A propaganda piece

India. The Modi Question (2023)

BBC Documentary (2 episodes)

Around the late 1990s, when I was working in Johor Bahru, I enjoyed the BBC worldwide service radio transmissions from Singapore. At that time, what appears to be an alternate universe to think of it now, their discussions were fair and extensive and looked at topics from all angles. Undoubtedly, their fundamental role in modern society has been exposed over the years. Their reporting of the elusive Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq and their many shenanigans are now open secrets. Their job is to be a tool of the US and a lap dog of the military-industrial complex.

A testimony of their rumour-mongering duty is this 2 part BBC documentary. It is an obvious case of biased reporting and ridiculing the choice of the citizens of the world's biggest democracy. Even though the BJP returned the votes with a more significant majority the second time around through what is deemed a fair election, the West cannot fathom the nation they once thought would disintegrate soon after its Independence.

At a time when Europe was in Dark Age, India and China ruled the world. The West stirred from slumber during the Era of Enlightenment, distorted the world order then, and exerted their will over the rest. With so many mischief and arm-twisting manoeuvres, they claimed dominance over the rest. They determined the world narrative and laid the foundation for how everybody should think. This was essentially the order of the day for a good millennium. At least, this is what the current generation is made to believe.

The 20th century saw the turn of the tide of the status quo. The colonised have been jolted off their ignorance. They are eager to reclaim their place in the world order. But the former colonial masters will not take this loss of stature lying down. They are going to put up a fight tooth and nail. BBC, CNN, Al-Jazeera, and other western media outlets quickly prance and sink their claws at former colonies where it hurts most.

2024 is an important year for India. It is when the nation goes to the polls. The world knows the sun has been shining bright on these so-called third-world countries. Economics is a zero-sum game. Profitability on one end means a loss on the other. A strong India is not healthy for the West. Hence, the rapaciousness to run down India and Modi, whose party is pipped to come out victorious in the next polls.

BBC selectively picks up internal problems within the world's most populous nation and puts a religious angle to them. It paints a picture of blood-hungry Hindus dying to sink their teeth into the jugular of the Muslims. The Muslims are portrayed as pitiful victims, never retaliating or casting the first stone in any calamity. An internal problem like the arbitration of Article 370 in India-controlled is made an international issue. The justice system is painted as tainted and working to the puppet strings of Modi. They make a mountain about the 2002 Gujerat riot, accusing Modi of being the master conspirator. To give legality to their presentation, the BBC had sourced the services of Indian sepoys like Arundhati Roy and leftist academicians from the UK.

Come to think of it, the Western Media is just doing what they had been doing all this while, bending public perception and skewing their way of thinking to benefit the West. Voice of America (VOA) was doing the same under the guise of being the voice of the free world.

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Rome was not built (or destroyed) in a day!

The Darkening Age (2017)

(The Christian Destruction of the Classical World)

Author: Catherine Nixey

My cycling buddy, JT, is fondly referred to as JC (Jesus Christ). Like JC, like a magnet, JT has been drawing in cyclists and potential cyclists in droves into his fold. After viewing his pictures and accolades on social media, his friends and relatives had all converted from couch potatoes to cycling-jersey-donning cleated cyclists. And these converts look at JT as JC. His every breath is sacred, and his every word is gospel truth. 

In another situation, I was invited to celebrate the passing of a relative. I also had the pleasure of listening to a sermon before the merriment. The pastor asserted that we are all weak by nature, prone to make mistakes and fall prey to temptation. He proposed his 8-step programme to his flock to emulate religiously and reinforce it weekly at their Sunday service. In not so many words, he told his congregation to go out to the world and spread the good Word.

In both cases, it appears that if the audiences are dogmatic to follow what they hear without using their faculties to sieve the chaff from the wheat, they will not be able to explore their true potential. They simply cannot be all blinkered and refuse to see beyond the rhetorics. 

I think early practitioners of Abrahamic faiths are guilty of this. Some went one step further. As stated by St Augustine, "… all superstition of pagans and heathens should be annihilated is what God wants, God commands, God proclaims!" 

Come to think of it, this is how jihadis think. They interpret the scriptures as they deem fit and impose their understanding of God's desire upon all. 

The ruins of Palmyra 

  

This book covers a time in human history in Europe, roughly between 385CE and 532CE, when Christian thinking slowly came to replace ancient 'pagan' philosophy. From an era when life and its purpose were questioned and re-questioned with philosophers putting in their two cents worth and scribbling on parchment, it morphed into a time when the Church determined what life is and how life should be lived. They impose their will on others, and in modern slang, "it is our way or the highway!" forcing many to immerse into the new teachings or leave for new lands. In the process, almost 99% of the knowledge is either lost or burnt. Outstanding human achievements in architecture and art were demolished, vandalised or defaced.  The human anatomy became vulgar, and there was a pressing need to amputate limbs, breasts, phalli and even Hellenistic noses.

It probably started in Palmyra's Temple of Athena in Syria, circa 385 CE. The idea of a goddess symbolising wisdom and war was too much for newly converted Christians to stomach. They only saw the exaggerated display of wealth and the glorification of a pagan deity. The accentuated silhouette of their body embarrassed Christians. Years of growing conversion climaxed with the imposition of their will on the rest. It immensely helped when the Roman monarch embraced Christianity and agreed to enforce God's law on Earth.

Hypatia of Alexandria

Ancient Alexandria saw the monumental work of Euclid and Ptolemy. To the new converts, their jobs were blasphemous. If the good said that God created heaven and Earth and everything on it in six days, so be it. Who are we, the product of the Original Sin, to question? The idea of a female mathematician-philosopher, Hypatia, running around telling people about the stars and the skies was repulsive. The sight of men learning the art of calculation was not in. In the name of religion, they killed and mutilated her body in the most inhumane way. All her work and wisdom from Alexandria's Great Library, one of the cradles of the Classical World, went up in flames.

History, as the Christian victors wrote it, made us believe that the pagan world became progressively disillusioned with the traditional Gods and rituals. They started disbelieving their myths and twisted tales and willingly embraced Christianity to seek the truth. The reality is not that.

Roman public bath

Early Christians were disillusioned with the world they lived in. They were fearful of a strange hostile world possessed by demons and made it their God-given duty to destroy these demonic representations. And they viewed these temples and deities as such.

Damascius, one of Hypatia's students, saw the actions of the zealots. He returned to see 532 CE Athens, a slowly evolving city. The Romans were interested in maintaining good governance providing public amenities, and religious tolerance. The new converts had different ideas. When more people saw Christianity as their newfound belief, they increasingly saw public baths and temples as demonic playhouses. Their orgy of destruction forced conversion, destroyed public property, deprived heathens of their livelihood, and chased philosophers away. There were even snooping squads, and people were rewarded for snitching on their pagan fellow citizens. The Academy, the birthplace of classical culture, was no more. Just one per cent of Latin literature would survive the purge; countless antiquities, artworks, and ancient traditions were lost forever. 

Come to think of it, what the Christian zealots did in Pre-Christian Rome was no different from the present-day ISIS or Taliban.

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Money can buy justice, or at least freedom!

Trial by Fire (2023, Miniseries)
Netflix

A management professor once told a joke about the Indian justice system. An 80-year-old man appeared for a molestation charge. After looking at the charge sheet, the judge queried, "you are accused of molesting a 16-year-old girl. Why? At this age..." The octagenarian replied, "Sir, I was also 16 when it happened!"

That is how long it takes the cogwheel of justice moves. It is not an Indian problem but a worldwide phenomenon. Part of the law school syllabus must be a paper on creative ways to dodge a trial and get away with it.

People enter a movie hall thinking they will be transported to a world of make-believe and forget real life's stresses for the next two hours or so. What audience who flocked to Uphaar cinema hall in Delhi on June 13th 1997, was far from it. They ended up struggling to stay alive when a transformer exploded. 59 people succumbed to smoke inhalation.

The general public patronises various public venues thinking that the licensing bodies and the enforcement units will do their part in ensuring safety for the general public. Victims of the fire also realised the hard way that all the while, the public has been short-changed. The businesses had been trying to maximise profits over safety. The local councils have been sleeping on their jobs as well. The question begs whether they deliberately looked the other way after their palms were greased.

Illegal extensions, indiscriminately increasing seats, and the erection of private viewing terraces only blocked exits. The doors were locked and bolted to discourage illicit entrees into halls, trapping and smoking the desperately trapped patrons to their deaths.

When the push came to the shove, even emergency response teams failed them. Their snail-paced lethargic swing to action was much to desired at a time when the public is aware of their rights is embarrassing.

Even the long arm of the law and cogwheel of the system appears to be dragging its feet. After 25 years, the parents of two teenage fire victims, Neelam and Sekhar Krishnamoorthy, are yet to see justice to be meted out to the owners of the ill-fated cinema hall. They, together with other relatives who had lost their loved ones in the fire, had taken a civil suit against the owners for negligence. They allege that they had neglected the safety of their clients.

The owners, big shots in Delhi, who had a hand in all development projects, are said to be big philanthropists with big community projects under their belts that seem untouchable. They are able to engage big-wig lawyers, and even the judges appear to feed off their hands. Delays and postponements are norms. Even the lawyer assigned to the defence by the Central Bureau of Investigation looked disinterested and needed prodding and feeding of information to proceed with the case.

Neelam and Sekhar, who wrote a book about their whole ordeal, had embarked on extensive TV interviews highlighting fire safety in public places. In one of such interviews, Neelam, out of sheer frustration, had blurted that she should have just taken a gun, shot the cinema owners and claim insanity rather than having faith in the legal system that seem skewed to protect the rich and famous. The rest of the population can just be taken for a ride with the false pretence that justice will prevail. In reality, money can buy justice or at least freedom.

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