The whole incident is being touted as the Indian 9/11 in terms of scale and spread and perhaps, rightly so.

But then, what now? What happens post this? The HM resigns, the Dep CM of Maharashtra resigns, maybe Madame Sonia will sack the CM too..everyone blames everyone for not acting on prior information and it goes on.

Soon, like the Kargil intrusion, the various serial bomb blasts across the country a few months ago, the explosions and killings of the past and the numerous other incidents of terror induced violence this incident too, will get archived.

I don't understand why as a nation, we have learnt only to react.not to act.

No, I'm not saying let's go attack Pakistan. That will neither achieve nor solve anything. Those clowns themselves are hopelessly clueless about what's happening in their country..

What I want to say is, let's get our government and that includes both the politicos and the babus to get their act together.

I know it's not easy..it's going to need a great amount of thought and a greater amount of action.but we HAVE to do it .or else every few months some bunch of terrorists from the LeT or the JeM or elsewhere will come screw us...we'll shed tears watching the horrific scenes on TV and slowly but surely, we'll end up becoming a nation of eunuchs...a billion eunuchs.

Terror is a way of life in today's world.a global cancer that's not going to vanish.there will still be incidents, there will still be deaths and there will still be damage.to our buildings, our infrastructure, and above all, to our national pride.

But having said that, we can prevent a lot of these incidents and we can present a strong front to the enemy..a front that puts the fear of God in him.the fear that it's not going to be easy and that even if they succeed now and then, the reprisals will be swift and strong.

So what needs to change?

First and foremost, our mindset...and our relics from the past.the relics of numerous organizations.both on the intelligence front as also the security forces.

What about the mindset? We HAVE to stop being reactive, we HAVE to realize we're as prime a terrorist target as the USA, we HAVE to be prepared at all times, we HAVE to get over the Pakistan/China fixation and realize that in today's world, our # 1 enemy is the terrorist.

Security Forces....a recap of the people involved in the Mumbai incidents will give you an idea... the Bombay Police.Maharashtra Police...the ATS..the Crime Branch.the Rapid Action Force, some Army personnel from the Bombay Garrison, regular Army from around Mumbai.the MARCOS.some regular Navy and Coast Guard elements.and the NSG.both from the SAG (army) and SRG (police). .. And I'm sure I've missed some. Ever heard of 'too many cooks spoil the broth'? Well, that's what always happens..ops just become that much tougher when every kind of Ram, Shyam and Hari is hanging around trying to fight.

Far as intelligence goes..I guess everyone knows how inept our agencies are.and the prime reason for that again, is the plethora of agencies we have..and hardly any of them with any real time and effective capabilities. I can't remember in my lifetime when our int agencies..the hordes of them that we have..have given the nation even one, one piece of intelligence. Frankly speaking, the whole lot is a bunch of nincompoops who are totally embedded on the liabilities side of the national balance sheet.

So what's needed?

First and foremost, we need to look at the Home Ministry. Is it effective enough to run this show as it is organized today? Or do we need a separate Ministry for Internal Security.like the US Dept of Homeland Security? I recommend the latter, with a brief to be responsible for addressing all internal including natural disasters (another area where as a nation we are absolutely clueless ewith calling in the Armed Forces being the only response we have). The Home Ministry can stay as is..looking after generic law and order, etc.and this won't need more money.since the new org can be carved out of the existing monolithic Ministry.

This new Ministry should essentially have two elements.an Intel wing and an Action wing.both of which should be national assets, cutting across state and political boundaries.

The Intel Wing should have two parts. an org which is fused out of R&AW and the IB and a separate org for Electronic Intel (Elint). We have the finest techie brains in the world and therefore, if there's a national and political will, there's no stopping us from having the finest Elint org in the world. Terrorists are very largely dependent on mobile/satellite phones, e mails and chat rooms for meeting their communication needs and we HAVE to monitor all these channels 24/7/365.collect, analyze, synthesize data and turn it into actionable int... something just not possible in the current scenario.where hardly anyone knows the difference between information, intelligence and actionable intelligence. In line with this, all the other Security/Police force agencies should modify their organizations and functioning accordingly, with terror related info/int being fed in real time to the central core agency.

Currently, action against terrorists is taken (if and when at all) by either the police forces (state/central) or as a final resort by the Army (regular/NSG). There is utter chaos with no clear lines of command and severe over lapping. Your TV screens during the recent terror attack would have shown you that. The Army is already over stretched in J&K and the North East and most combat units feed over a 100 men per annum to the Rashtriya Rifles..hence enlarging the NSG will only cause a further drain. Similarly, using the Special Forces (or the Marcos) is okay once in a while but cannot be a permanent solution.these men are trained for other stuff. So what do we do?

Keep the SAG (the Army part of the NSG) as the final, ultimate Sudarshan Chakra against terror and as a prelude to their ops, or to deal with smaller incidents, have a specialized anti terrorist org in each state drawn from the police forces. Also, reduce the SRG (the Police part of the NSG) role in VIP protection by assigning this to the respective State police forces.thereby releasing the SRG for their primary role, i.e. to support SAG ops.

Eventually, in my opinion, we have to look at a Central anti terror force, full time (not tenure based deputation) drawn from the Armed Forces/Police Forces and supplemented by clones at State level. These forces (Central and State) have to be well trained, equipped and yes, well paid.

And then lastly, let us not be scared to counter attack..as reprisal when our sovereignty, our pride, our self respect are attacked. We know where the camps are, where the terror master minds are.go after them,..with all that we have...smart munitions, trans border Special Forces ops.choking the money routes..anything and everything that is needed. And this is not only as reprisal.we've got to be pro-active.strike first, strike hard..when you have the info and the intel.

These are just brief random thoughts.. but we HAVE to act.or just wither away as a weak nation.

(And by the way.where were Mr Raj Thackeray and his Sena as well as his estranged Uncle and his Sena during all the chaos in Mumbai? Who the hell allows these guys to call themselves a Sena, anyways??? )

While thinking about my NDA days..I moved on a bit to remembering my days at the IMA (for the clueless kinds still interested in reading my ramblings..that's the Indian Military Academy at Dehradun...the 'army' academy we move on to after passing out of the NDA...which is a joint services institution).

Unlike the NDA, the tenure at IMA is just two terms....one year....so it's fast paced, exciting and more future centric. You're but a step away from starting your career..your life, so to speak!!

Anyways..whilst at IMA...the upper most thought on everyones mind is..what regiment am i gonna join?? .....it's almost like a woman decidng on the guy she's gonna marry...and why not?? ..it's a serious question..after all, most of the rest of your life is gonna be contingent on that decision.

So there are endless discussions with each other and with the instructors on the subject. What arm or service? And once that's decided, what regiment???

Well, the funny part is no one really knows nothing about nothing....so this big, important decision is mostly based on nothing..no knowledge, no analysis, no nothing!!

To give you an idea, here's how a normal post-dinner discussion would go amongst a group of friends sitting in the platoon quadrangle over a smoke:

Alpha : Gosh, this whole thing is such a pain..I just can't decide where to go.

Bravo : Arrey, why?? It's so simple. I'm very clear. I'm gonna opt for the Artillery.

Alpha : Artillery? Yuk!! Why??

Bravo : well, yuk or not..you don't have to walk ..not like the PBI (hark ye, clueless ones..that's Poor Bloody Infantry..the foot soldiers)

Charlie : That's a corny reason to join something. You're both taklking rot...I'm gonna join the Jat Regiment. Abs sure.

Alpha & Bravo : Why?? What's so great about the Jat Regt??

Charlie : My Dad was in it. Period.

Delta : What a corny fukkin reason to opt for some regt. My Dad is in the Dogras and I sure as hell am not gonna follow him there.

Alpha : Well, I dunno...my Dads a civvie, so I guess I'll join the Brigade of the Guards.

Bravo, Charlie and Delta : Why??

Alpha : Well, their uniform is cool...a nice orange heckle on the cap and brass buttons.

Bravo : Yeah, I gotta agree..but I also like the lanyard the Dogras wear..so I'm gonna join that.

Echo (strolling in from a visit to the loo) : What's wrong with all of you? You want to die for the motherland or what? I'm clear yaar..uniform be damned..I'm gonna join the Ordnance or ASC (Army Service Corps---the supplies fellas)..at least no walking, no runnng..no fighting. Enough of getting screwed in NDA and IMA man, I wanna chill and keep chilling all my life.

Delta : Agreed, yaar. No sense soldiering just because you're a soldier. The Support Services are cool. You're an army guy with all the thand life of a civilian.

Alpha, Bravo & Charlie : Both of you are pansies..nothing but the fighting arms for us.

So that's how it generally goes. Like I said, no one knows nothing about nothing.

Anyways, in my own gang too..there were similar discussions.

Mike wanted to join the Armoured Corps ..why? because tanks have a long barrel (some

Freudian penile thingie, maybe)

November wanted to join the Sikhs...Why ?? Well..the Sikhs are a martial race, man..the best!!

I wanted to join the Parachute Regiment ...Why?? Well,I like the little parachute they wear on the chest... and that was sure to attract all the birds (the two legged ones!!)

For similar reasons, my good pal Sierra wanted to join the Gorkhas. Why? Cos' he just adored the Gorkha hat.

Anyways, at some point or the other, we locked onto our choices and filled them up in the prescribed form a month before the POP (uff..for the lost cases..that's Passing out Parade).

Mike had lost his ardor for the Armoured Corps by then and filled up Signals (it's hi-tech, yaar!!)

November felt, after deep study and analysis that the Sikhs might be too rough, so opted for the Madras Regiment.

Sierra and I held firm.

The last month was hectic..all the tests..mental and physical and medical..to clear...endless POP rehearsals and generally getting ready for the big bad world out of the Academy.

Sierra worked hardest amongst us. Getting the Gorkhas wasn't easy..so he HAD to ensure he emerged in the top few in order of merit, to be sure of getting his choice...the Gorkhas,

Finally, the day of reckoning arrived. A week left to pass out and we were assembled for being alloted our regiments...our future.

One by one, each GC (Gentleman Cadet) marched up to the Deputy Commandant and the Army HQ brass sitting with him..saluted..heard what Regiment he's been given..saluted..and marched back..either ecstatic, happy, sad , upset, or downright distraught..depending on what he'd got..or NOT got.

Well, back to my gang.

Mike ...the Bihar Regiment. (No sweat, man. After all, how the fukk does it matter??)

November ...the Engineers (Well, it's more hi-tech than Signals..those guys are just telephone operartors)

Me ..well..I got what I wanted. I knew I would. My Dad was a General, wasn't he?

Sierra ...1/8 Gorka Rifles.. He was thrilled beyond description. The Gorkhas..and the 8 Gorkhas at that!! Gosh..not only a fancy Gorkha hat..but a hat with a bright red pom pom on it!!!

We were all happy for Sierra..he'd got what he wanted..what he worked so hard for...his dreams were gonna come true... our tall, handsome friend was finally gonna wear a Gorkha hat........

Or was he???

Shit !!

Flaming flamingoes!!!

We'd all goofed up on one thing........most of all Sierra himself!!!

We'd all respected his desire to join the Gorkhas..his dream to wear the Gorkha hat..

We'd all supported him towards achieviung his goal. We'd discussed everything we possibly could on the subject.

But, we'd all forgotten one thing.

Sierra was a Sardar...a Sikh...he was never gonna wear a Gorkha hat!!!

As often happens, the event took me down memory lane....dunno why it happens most on birthdays to me, but it does.

I was transported back many years to my alma mater..the institution that turned me from a boy into a man..the NDA (the National Defence Academy, for those readers who're a bit clueless about this acronym) .

Well, unlike for a lot of kids, it was NOT a dream come true for me to have got selected to join the NDA. In those days....ages ago..all that a normal middle class kid could aspire to be was an engineer, doctor or soldier (and while using this term, I include sailors and aviators).

Now, being very middle class, being very non technical and being the son of a very Olive Green army man...the options for a career were but very limited for me.

So off I went to take the NDA exam, followed by the SSB (oops, that's Services Selection Board, for the clueless ones), further followed by a stringent medical....and having cleared all of the above I landed up at the NDA one fine July evening.

I remember rolling up in a train at Khadki (then known as Kirkee), a suburb of sorts to Pune (then known as Poona) .......... (which makes me deviate a bit..shouldn't the Poona Horse now be called the Pune Horse??)

Anyways, I got off the train..all agog with excitement..ready to take on life..ready to enter the hallowed portals of the finest Armed Forces institution in the whole wide world.

I found a make shift reception manned by some smart army guys who promptly ticked my name on some list and lugged me onto a bus..a squeaky clean olive green bus with the NDA crest emblazoned on it.

A longish drive and we entered the Academy. My, my..what an awesome sight...a huge campus, spotlessly clean, beautifully landscaped and superbly laid out.

I think that's the precise moment I fell in love with the NDA..love at first sight, so to speak.

Well, like most love affairs, this one didn't last long.

I got off at the Mess, got my name ticked on another list and was led by a reluctant 2nd Termer to my Squadron (the hostel I was assigned to, for the clueless). En route, this reluctant senior made an even more reluctant me do some front rolls, some push ups and sundry other nonsensical and unwelcome stuff.

Anyways..I landed up finally at my Squadron, was shown my cabin and got down to settling down. It took longer than I expected because every few minutes some senior or the other would come in and harangue me.

Well, the task was finally done and soon enough I was absorbed into the typical beginning of term activities..getting a haircut (or rather, a head shave), kit collection, book colection, etc, etc.

All through these activities I met some other first termers, all very friendly blokes and also more than some seniors (ranging from 2nd to 6th term)..none of whom was even remotely friendly.

The first day of Term arrived. The entire Academy got together in the audi to listen to the Commandant welcome us and to distribute the inevitable gyan.

But prior to the Commandant walking in...the Academy Cadet Adjutant walked in (for the clueless, that's an NDA equivalent of the School Captain or some such senior prefect).

I still remember the guy..tall, slim, handsome...very, very impressive (now, a not so slim Brigadier) striding up to the stage and looking down his aquiline nose thru' bright hawkish eyes at us...and he delivered his welcome speech:

"Good evening, all. This is the start of this year's autumn term and I wonder how we'll get thru' it. I look in front of me and I see a sorry bunch of 1st termers sitting right in front. I had never in my worst nightmares thought that this great nation would have to really scrape the bottom of it's muddy boots to find new cadets for this august institution..but that's precisely what seems to have happened..................

I was shocked, zapped, horrified!!! Some welcome this was turning out to be...were my thoughts as the ACA continued....

" I'd really thought the Academy is going to the dogs...but I was mistaken..........

Wow!! I smiled...maybe the guy was about to say something nice finally...

" Yes, I was wrong, very wrong, absolutely wrong....the Academy has NOT gone to the dogs...it's the fukkin dogs that've come here!!"

Lol!! Some welcome, some one liner that..but all in all..that was sooo typical NDA... :)

*HER DIARY *

Day night, I thought he was acting

weird. We had made

plans to meet at a

cafe to have some coffee. I was

shopping with my friends

all day long, so I

thought he was upset at the fact that I

was

a bit

late,

but he made no

comment. Conversation wasn't flowing so

I suggested that

we go somewhere

quiet so we could talk, he agreed but

he kept quiet and

absent. I

asked

him what was wrong - he

said,

"Nothing. "I asked him if

it was my fault

that he was upset. He said it

had

nothing to do with me

and not to worry.

On the way home I told him that I

loved

him, he simply

smiled and kept

driving. I can't explain his

behavior; I don't know

why he didn't say,

"I love u, too."When we got home I felt

as if I had lost

him, as if he

wanted nothing to do with me anymore.

He just sat

there and watched TV.;

he seemed distant and absent. Finally I

decided to go to

bed. About 10

minutes later he came to bed. I decided

that I could not

take it anymore,

so I decided to confront him with the

situation but he

had fallen asleep. I

started crying and cried until I too

fell asleep. I

don't know what to

do. I'm almost sure that his thoughts

are with someone

else. My life is a

disaster.

* HIS DIARY *

Today India lost the cricket match

against Bangladesh.

DAMN

IT!!

WOMAN'S POEM
Before, I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.


MAN'S POEM
I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs
who owns a liquor store and a golf course.

This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a sh!t.

Over a period of time however, he's called Beegie out of affection and convenience and that somehow seems to have become his official handle now... cos I don't think doggies know the diff between real names and nick names.

I was talking to a friend this morn and realised that their dog, Scamper who's around the same age as Beegie has gone down the same route and in the process, has become Scampi.

Talking with my friend about our doggies and their name change reminded me of the time I was posted as an instructor someplace in the 90's.

We had a Chief Instructor who was very 'prim n propah' and more Brit than Ind...and was also very keen on ensuring everything and everyone was on the same grid (or same page, as they say in the corp world). Never let an opportunity go by where he could talk about Officer-like-qualities, the right form, the Army (read Brit) way of doing things, etc.

Now one day I went calling on him and his spouse. Rang the bell, presented my card to Man Friday, adjusted my tie and waited. Soon enough the lord and lady of the house arrived at the door and welcomed me.

In I went, made PC about how lovely the Drawing Room was...smiled admiringly at the Lady and asked the Lord to give me a whisky and soda.

Drinks arrived, small eats too....and PC continued.

Soon enough, the conversation steered towards dogs...when the CI realised I'm a die-hard dog lover. He immediately took off on telling me about his lab called Pluto. A 30 minute monologue starting with where and when Pluto was born...how he grew up..which school he went to (just kidding!!) and so on. The main issue was that Pluto was just about the best mannered and well trained dog in the whole wide world...cos he had been brought up by the g'man just like he brought up his own kids. He didn't believe in allowing household pets to be brought up by the household staff and so on. So, I began getting lessons on how to train dogs and ensuring total obedience, etc,etc.....essentially by ensuring that if I wanted a good dog, I had to be a full time, hands on, dedicated master. This wasn't a job that could be delegated.

Being an upwardly mobile fellow in those days, I fixed an interested look on my face and interjected the monologue with the customary ooohs, aahhhs, wows and so on at suitable spots...as would be the professionally and politically correct form in such a situation.

A bit later, theory got over...there being only so much one can talk about training and bringing up dogs...... and it was time for practicals.

"Koi hai???" yelled the CI.

"Hukum" came a reply with another Man Friday (or maybe this guy was Man Saturday) coming into the room simultaneously.

"Bahadur Singh...Pluto ko le kar aao".

"Hukum" was the reply to this directive as Man Friday # 2/Man Saturday faded away.

Within a jiffy however, he was back. And with him was this young, strapping, noble looking lab. Mr Pluto, Esq, I presumed.

Well, I presumed right. It was indeed Pluto...judging from the pride on the Brig saabs face and the very proprietary 'I (and not that fellow) am the L and M of this house' look on the doggies face.

"Come here, Pluto" said the Lord of the House.

"F*** off" was the silent reply he got from the Dog of the House....as in, he didn't budge an inch.

The CI repeated his command. The doggie repeated the unbudging lack of movement.

This scene was played out a couple of more times.

I could now see the g'man looking embarassed and the dog looking bored.

All this talk about impeccable manners, well groomed discipline and seamless obedience was seeming like a lot of hot air. I mean if the dog didn't come when called...what were the chances of him jumping off an aircraft or volunteering for a high risk hostage resue mission?

The CI then changed his tactics. ..and followed the typical senior Army officer process for such a situation....he asked Man Friday/Saturday why the dog was behaving (or rather, misbehaving) so.

"Pata nahin, Saab, theek toh tha abhi tak" was the reply.

The Brig saab explained to the johny that nothing was theekh and that the lively canine was doing the dumb adder role when called. To illustrate his point, he did the 'Come here, Pluto' thing a few times again..and the dog helped him out in this illustration by continuing with the steady Rock of Gibraltar bit.

The johny looked perplexed and then decided to take matters into his own hands. He obviously didn't want to be brought up on a charge of dereliction of duty by being party to an act of wilful disobedience by a dog.

He enquired of his superior officer if he could try out out the 'calling the dog' drill.

He got an affirmative and immediately positioned himself in a battle ready position, took a deep breath, looked the doggie in the eye and said ..... "Paltoo. idhar aao".

Paltoo.....sorry, I mean Pluto..went bounding to the johny and sat at his feet dutifully.

Lol !! It was a sight to see..the Brigadier saab's red face, the johny's beaming smile and the doggie's proud 'I did it' look.

So that's it friends... it wasn't about obedience ..it was all about the dog's handle. Poor CI saab never realised it had got altered/changed/modified over time because the Indian Army jawan relates to Paltoo and not to Pluto!!

We recently had some top honcho from the Co. HQ in the US visiting us here. I thought VIP or VVIP or VVVIP visits on civvy street would be very different from those in the Army..'cos there everyone went totally overboard from reception to food to itinerary to briefings to décor to visits to everything else.

Well, out here it wasn't very different. The only big difference I saw was that since the guy in question was staying at the Leela, no one went to check if the 'flush' was working..... something which was a very, very, very imperative ingredient of an Army VIP visit check list.

But yes, what he'll eat, when he'll eat and how he'll eat was as big an issue here as it used to be there.

Which reminds me of the time we got a new Divisional Commander some years ago. The guy was a surdee boy from the Gorkhas who had coincided his promotion with his entry into the 'sau choohe kha kar billi Haj ko chali' club. For those of you who can't figure that out..he had turned vegetarian and a tee totaller to boot, at the ripe age of 50.. the time when he should have been taking his eating and drinking to the next level instead of making a retrograde move.

Anyways, since he had just transformed his dietary habits, there wasn't much info available prior to his arrival on his food habits. All we got was..he loves tandoori chicken, chicken tikka, tangdi kebab, butter chicken.or rather.used to love. What was in vogue was vague.

So, our very upwardly mobile Deputy GOC decided to take matters into his own hands and settled down to himself make the menu for the first visit by the General saab.

Not too sure what veggies like, he decided to play safe by plastering the menu, top to bottom, with bananas, apples, pineapples, plums, peaches and so on. .sliced, diced, canned, fresh, any and every which way.

The day of reckoning arrived..and so did General Sardarji. Salutes, handshakes, introductions and into the Ops Room for his first briefing.

The briefing began.as so did the feeding of the General. Platter after platter, bowl after bowl of fruits kept coming in.more or less keeping time with the power point slide show. Introduction bananas; Brief History of the Division- apples; Op Role peaches; Terrain mosambi juice; Enemy Deployment mangoes ; and so on.

Finally it all ended.... the briefing as well as the feeding.

The Deputy GOC looked rather pleased with himself.and with both aspects of the visit.the talk by him and the eat by the General.

Very hopeful now of getting his second star in the near future, he thought he'd seal it by asking the General what he thought about the whole jamboree.

"Sir, your thoughts or views on the briefing?" he politely enquired.

The General saab thought awhile, shook his head, adjusted his turban, swished away some lint from his shirt, did some bayonet practice with a toothpick.. and then took a deep breath..and replied.

His reply?

"Most fruitful!! Thank you!!!"

close your eyes

imagine you and i

close as breath

skin upon skin

lips touching

for you taste of raspberries

sweetly irresistible

the fragrance of you

takes my breath away

i am burning inside

a torch of fire

burning fuel of passion

for you are my desire

my heart beats with every breath

you are my destiny

your eyes meet mine

deep and mysterious

i am your slave

your love has captured me

grab me

pull me close

show me your love

in ways i can only dream

wake me .... i must be dreaming

is this a fairy tale??!!

When you delete words,
Backspace them, you know
Pausing over the 'cut' icon,
I wonder where they go?

As little zeroes and ones,
Do they simply float around?
Do they form self-help groups,
Are they gagged and bound?

I wonder if we could help them,
Redirect them to pages.
Put them up on e-bay,
Recycle them in stages.

Send cuss words to comics,
Adjectives to page three,
Scandalous ones to tabloids,
Misspelt ones come free.

Let's create an 'at' address,
For alphabets cruelly cut
A perfect resting place
For every extra 'and' and 'but' !!