Delhi Diary

Dissed Appointment

Received wisdom should be taken with a tablespoon of salt. That warning is borne out by the stinging verdict on the prime minister’s press conference last week. “He decided to talk, but not to speak. Why have a press conference if you decide not to say anything?” thundered Arun Jaitley. Sitaram Yechury’s barbs were more circumspect: “The PM’s speech was well-intentioned. But there was nothing specific.” It was, it seems, a flop show, both in style and substance.

Consider style. Dr Manmohan Singh, as he would be the first to acknowledge, does not exactly set the podium on fire. He does not do oratory. Therefore, lack of style should not detain us. Substance? Here, I think we are being unfair to the prime minister. There was plenty of meat in the responses. Of course, he did not say what Mr Jaitley and the bjp wanted him to say, but that hardly means the PM went no further than platitudes. Manmohan Singh did not hold the press conference to satisfy the wishes of the main opposition party; he held the press conference to share his views with the country.

Perhaps the biggest disappointment for his critics was his refusal to announce any dramatic measures on the war against the Maoists. Here again, the bjp wanted to hear some tough talk; it wanted to hear the PM announce that he would deploy the army and the air force to crush the Maoists. Interestingly, Dr Singh did not rule out the use of either. All he said was: “These are issues that are strategic issues which will be discussed at the appropriate forum of the cabinet.” Even as I write, that is exactly what is being done in consultation with the chiefs of the armed forces. Thus, what the bjp seems upset about is that the prime minister is discussing and debating anti-Maoist strategy with the right people in the right forum!

Let us give Manmohan Singh some credit for exposing himself to the national media without aides, without notes, answering friendly and hostile questions for 75 minutes.

Dust Bowl Dandy

No one should be surprised at the tenacity, guts and never-say-die spirit the former supremo of the IPL is demonstrating in his protracted war with the BCCI. I have always maintained that if Mr Lalit Modi goes down, he will take a few bigwigs with him. While the showcause, counter-showcause and defamation notices fly around and the IPL dirty story becomes progressively dirtier, the central truth of the whole sordid affair shines through even more brightly, namely that the entire IPL governing council and most BCCI officials knew precisely what Mr Modi was up to. Indeed, they were complicit in his shenanigans. Meanwhile, the silence of the three much-admired ex-captains (Pataudi, Gavaskar, Shastri) is the saddest part of this sordid tale. It is no use for them to bravely speak out now; they should have spoken out then.

Incidentally, the cricketing and non-cricketing world is abuzz with rumours of how our fun-loving Lalit was busy holidaying in Monte Carlo in the company of senior upa ministers at the time of the Mangalore air crash. Mr Modi may have fallen from grace but no one can deny he is going out in great style!

Ask The Window-Cleaner

Who should journalists tap to get the view of the aam aadmi? If you live in the hinterland or the hills, the tea shop is a good starting point, although the hack may encounter too many chatterboxes who think they can run the country better than Manmohan Singh. The taxi driver is a strict no-no since cab drivers the world over are misanthropes and politically slightly to the right of Praveen Togadia. The late James Cameron, possibly the best foreign correspondent of the ’60s and ’70s and a big India-lover, usually went straight to the bar after he had checked in. Since his appetite for liquor was enormous even by Fleet Street standards, he stayed till closing time, buttonholing fellow drinkers and the barman for local news. The British journalist, Paul Johnson, recommends the gardener (mali), who the editor of the New Statesman, Kingsley Martin, used as a reliable source for gaining the opinion of the common man.

Alas, in our congested flat culture, the mali is an endangered species, and the one we have comes twice a week at odd hours, waters the gamlas and disappears. He told me recently that his son wants to be a pop star!

The Better Cover-up

Here is one I hadn’t heard before. Oxford dons, as is well known, enjoy a spot of nude-bathing at a secluded male-only spot on the river Cherwell. In the 1940s, Maurice Bowra, the distinguished classicist and a legendary figure at Oxford, was reclining au naturel with fellow dons (Isaiah Berlin, John Sparrow, Hugh Trevor-Roper) when some women students floated by on a punt. Bowra covered his face with a handkerchief while the others scrambled to cover their genitals. When asked about his reaction, Bowra said, “I don’t know about you, gentlemen, but in Oxford I, at least, am known by my face.”