Of toasts and turns

There are two ways of facing a birthday. The first is to look at yourself in the mirror, find yet another clump of grey hair,yet another cluster of crow’s feet and drown yourself in a drink. The other is to look at yourself in the mirror, smile and say, “Cheers. I have yet another year!� So let’s raise a glass to our country. The year may have been horrific, but we are still in one piece.
A toast to the NDA government.Has it broken the record for the world’s longest surviving coalition? There was a time when Atal Bihari Vajpayee and Lal Krishna Advani and Murli Manohar Joshi and all the other leaders with three names worried that they would have to import coalition expertise from Italy, but now they can export it.
A toast also to the rupee for its graceful free fall. I met a young Indian at Dubai airport last night. “What’s the conversion rate between the rupee and dirham?� I asked. He told me. “What’s the conversion rate between the rupee and the dollar?� he asked. I told him. “What?!� he said, his jaw hitting the floor. “But it was 36 rupees to the dollar the last time I was there!� he said. “Serves you right.� I said, “for staying away from your country for one whole year."
The way I see it, it’s really a smart move from the finance ministry to make life easier for the Indian tourist in his favourite destination, Britain. It''s now Rs 73.47 to the pound which makes it impossible to go without a calculator even to the local Barista. “Mmmm,� you say, whipping out your machine “£ 1.50 for a Capuccino. That’s Rs 110.205.� Who can enjoy a meal with so much calculation? So the government’s aim is to make the rupee exactly equal to a pence. A hundred rupees to a pound. I’ll buy that. (I may not buy the coffee, though).
A toast also to Laloo Prasad Yadav. For showing the world that true democracy is not the suited-booted Westminister variety. It’s the banian-khatiya Bihar variety. In which you can steal the fodder from under the udder of your own holy cow. In which you can give stirring speeches from inside a jail one day and parliament the next. In which you can substitute the rolling pin with a pen, teach your wife to sign and make her Chief Minister. In fact, let’s raise three toasts to Laloo. After all, he also has a whole television series based on him. And he has become the president of his state’s cricket association because of one eminent qualification: he has produced (with a little help from Rabri), a whole cricket team. Which politician, anywhere in the world, can boast of that?
A toast, with red, red wine (no make that crimson), to that other head of state, Narendra Modi. For telling us that the full form of CM is Chief Monster. For telling the world that it’s not just a dictator who can eliminate his own people. A democrat can too. Hey, everyone can learn from that.
A toast to the government’s Experiments with Truth. When Tehelka tells us the truth about defence deals, they don’t jail the generals, they jail Tehelka. When Time magazine says the PM goes to sleep in meetings, they don’t give Vajpayee an alarm clock; they send the magazine’s correspondent packing.
And more toasts. To our bowlers. For giving our batsmen one chance after another to show that they are the best in the world. To our weight lifters. For being up to date on training techniques and steroid use. To Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupathi. For showing that we can’t get along together, even on a tennis court.
And a final toast. To us, all one billion of us. For being air filters. And shock absorbers. And scam observers. And yet being able to smile and raise a glass and say “Cheers� and “Happy Independence Day.�