We are a people with pliable moral and ethical standards. Chalta hai, jugaad, we are like this only, kindly adjust, tedhi ungli, patli gully are cute verbal disguises for dishonesty. Taking liberties with the letter of the law has alway been okay. +

This isn't a story set in the year everyone loves to hate. In fact, that was a pretty good year for Rahul. It suited him well. He was anyway an expert at staying indoors and shunning human company. +

He liked nothing more than to make two packets of Maggi using three sachets of tastemaker, a cup of tea brewed for precisely 150 seconds, and then settle down on his chair that was specifically chosen because it could rest the plate and cup on its broad arms. And a book too. +

He'd sit there and think thoughts like 'Even my name is so lame. It's the default option every copywriter uses while writing an ad about a young executive. Don't they know most Rahuls are in their fifties now?' +

Anyway, what I am about to narrate happened a year before the big bad one. On the day that the world has arbitrarily decided to burden with great import. New Year's Eve. A day that really meant nothing to Rahul. But late that evening basic arithmetic caught up with him. +

He had run out of tastemaker. There were six packets of noodles on his shelf, their throats slit, robbed of their magical sachets with the mysterious powers. Sealed with rubber bands, the packets stared back blandly at Rahul. +

Rana's mother insisted he call his father Pitaji. Not Papa, Baba, Babuji, and definitely not Daddy. 'But Ma,' he used to complain, 'this is the 21st century, not pracheen Bharat'. 'That's why I'm not asking you to call him Pitashri', she would retort. +

On the other hand, Sweety's mother, a very modern lady indeed, made sure she (Sweety) called her father Daddy. He didn't mind being called anything. Pop, Dad, Baba, Daddykins, Popsy.. as long as he got his quota of hugs and kisses from his darling daughter. +

Rana grew into a strapping young man. Earning raised (but respectful) eyebrows, when his friends heard him call his father Pitaji. But Pitaji deserved that honour. For he was an honourable man. +

He worked long night shifts at a distant factory 6 days of the week. At home, he was kind, loving, and indulgent during the few hours he was awake. His wife cherished his diligence, discipline, and devotion to her. She fed him well, and made sure he got his rest. +

Every morning at the factory, he'd hand over duty to Daddy, the Day Manager, and head home. Daddy worked all day till Pitaji returned to relieve him. On Wednesday, both of them took a much deserved break, when the factory had its weekly holiday. +

Bill Bernbach, the most quotable of all the advertising Gods, once said, "It's not a principle till it costs you money.' It is only as an entrepreneur (I wish there was a less ostentatious word for this), that I fully understood the genius of that simple sentence. +

Every now and again, you meet a moral dilemma. They are the most troubling kind. Unlike the 'sambar daalke ya alag?' variety of dilemma. I'm talking about business opportunities that come with the faint, or not so faint, whiff of blackness in the lentils. +

We live in a grayscale world. Viewed through multi-hued glasses. A world where doctored and engineered have unflattering meanings. Forget about squeaky clean, nobody even seems to be scratchy clean. Even hallowed seems like a typo for hollowed. +

Shouldn't we take briefs at face value? After all, we are communicators, not investigators. Shouldn't we take shelter behind caveat emptor? Pass on the legal responsibility to the client and the rest to the customer? +

We are sloganeers and image makers, aren't we? Paid for our cleverness. Not for our, what's that word, scruples? That word is always a bit elusive. +

My father likes to brag. Specially about his athletic abilities. Truth is, he does manage to catch the toast before it falls to the floor. At half his age, I can't do that. "Keeper's reflexes", he says. The rest of us exchange 'there he goes again' glances. Mom just smiles. +

We've heard his 'I could have played for India' story a few times. About how one dropped catch in a crucial match cost him his India berth. How he quit the game after that. And became an actuary. Instead of people studying his stats, he studied theirs. +

It's true that his keeper-reflexes have saved many a pickle jar, egg, and tea cup. He has thumbed his nose at gravity so often. we jokingly call him Rakesh Sharma. He'd have preferred Kiri or Rod or Alan. +

Here's his story. Years ago, his team was one wicket away from victory. The opponents two runs away. The pitch was crumbling. Dogra bowled a beaut. The ball pitched and reared up. It took the bat's shoulder and sailed towards him. That was the India cap flying into his hands. +

Tragically, along with the ball, a clod from the disintegrating pitch flew up too. Dad's eyes stayed on the clod. While the ball mockingly wafted by him. And rolled over the rope. It was a catch Kachra could have taken. +

A watchman in our society, on an average, lasts 3 months. Just when we get a hang of each other's eccentricities, he disappears. So you have to start all over with the new man. 'Don't ever ring my bell twice... I carry my bags myself, thank you... '. And so on. +

Rakesh was different. He looked 16, though he was 21. Wide eyed, eager, sincere to a fault. He would magically get to the gate before you could honk, he'd never miss a courier, the water tank never got empty on his watch, the cars he washed sparkled. +

Before Rakesh, we had a run of disastrous men. He was like Kapil Dev walking in at 17 for 5. In a couple of days, we knew we had a keeper. Like those animated drops of lubricant in Castrol ads, Rakesh was everywhere at the same time, keeping our Society humming efficiently. +

Residents competed with each other to offer him a snack, a cup of tea, a t shirt from a sales conference, an old mobile phone. They all made small talk with him. Like writers on a talent show production, they discovered his back story. Jaunpur. Sick father. 2 sisters. Cows. +

He worked days in our society. And nights at another. He had no home in Mumbai. Yet he showed no signs of fatigue. Even Mrs.Menon had no complaint. That's saying something. Her last complaint was, '..the watchman makes loud noises brushing his teeth... unacceptable..' +

Presenting you the 1st Phase Opinion Poll of West Bengal Vidhan Sabha Election 2021 by Bongo Prokash. It's a joint venture by me & @ThePaulSaheb, 2 more such polls will be out in March. Please give your feedback. Constructive criticism will be appreciated trolls will be blocked.

In Coochbehar, BJP is sweeping all the seats except Sitai. Udayan Guha losing, so is Rabindranath. Rajbongshis stay with BJP.

In Alipurduar it's a BJP landslide. BJP maintains it's Lok Sabha strength & adds with recent defection by good organization leaders from TMC.

In Jalpaiguri too BJP sweeps, TMC draws a blank.

In Darjeeling the game becomes interesting. GJM is a divided house now in alliance with TMC. Tamang & Gurung factions heavily divided. GNLF backs BJP. BJP+GNLF ahead in Siliguri, Phansidewa, Naxalbari while GJM marginally ahead in Kalimpong, Kurseong & at the moment in Darjeeling

Why @BJP4Bengal Will Win #WestBengalElection2021
A Thread
This road is maintained by PWD, Government of West Bengal” is an omnipresent signboard that greets travellers in almost every nook and corner of the state.The region may change from Cooch Behar & Darjeeling in North Bengal

To Jhargram in Junglemahal and Kultali in Sunderban, but the signboard remains the same. After having travelled for almost 13,000 km in the state from October 2020 to Decem maber ority of the places the roads, especially in the interiors, are in bad shape.

This state of affairs is unfortunately true for the incumbent party too. It’s everywhere in the state, but mostly in pretty bad shape. Barring rare exceptions, the people’s impression of the local Trinamool leadership

everywhere falls in the same template. corrupt, rowdy and arrogant. On top of that, the fear of retribution by the incumbents is so strong that the line between the people’s dislike and their hate against the ruling party often gets blurred.

Severl respondents across the state narrated the way dissidents, opponents and anyone daring to question the prevailing corruption and upmanship on the ground are hounded systematically, which includes measures like physical attacks, filing of false cases and depriving them of

"Who likes to fire crackers during Diwali?" asked the teacher.

About half of the nine-ten year olds in the classroom raised their hands.

"You should be ashamed," chided the teacher. "Crackers are harmful to our environment!"

The ones who did not raise their hands felt proud.

People think Modi needs Punjab to win. He won without Punjab, not once, but twice, and what happens in the state does not impact his political prospects at all. Heck, he'd be long gone when Punjab runs out of ground water 15-20 years from now. Yet, he's taking the right call.

I was on the ground in Punjab in 2019, and what most Sikhs I interacted with told me was they would want BJP to play a greater role in the politics of the state. They narrated how they were sick of the Akalis, of the stagnant regime of the Captain, and they trusted Modi.

I was in Anandpur Sahib, the constituency that was won by @ManishTewari later. I interacted with a few folks, running shops of religious artefacts around the Anandpur Sahib, and most of them wanted more industry in the region. More industry, more jobs, more prosperity.

Yes, there are blessed families in terms of agriculture in the state but there are two extremes. The ones who are blessed, and the ones who are not. For the ones who aren't, there is a need for more infrastructure, more industry, more investments. The state has potential.

The new farm laws would have created a generation of agripreneurs, created the potential for cold-storage, formalised functioning of small farms, contract farming, and what not. The fertile lands of the state offered unlimited potential merely from an agricultural point of view.