Hours to go for these BJP guys to take oath. The city is getting painted saffron. Saffron flags, posters, banners, buntings, sycophancy. Everyone wants a ministerial berth. But one smart BJP 'worker' decided to pass on the message of his loyalties quite strongly to his bosses. He's put up BJP flags all around the Janata Dal (Secular)'s office. And I mean, all around. That strong message to the Gowdas should win this smart alec - whoever he is - a ministerial berth, methinks!

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BS Yeddyurappa wants a 'stable government.' And he's getting that by getting six unsuspecting independents over to his side. These six people never went to an astrologer but seem to have managed an unprecedented jackpot. They became elected as independents just at a time when the BJP was just short of a majority.

Soon after convincing them, the BJP took them away to an 'undisclosed location.' They say they don't want any 'horse-trading,' so the best-case scenario is to keep them away from 'possible poachers' (read Congress, JDS) until they can be safely sworn in as ministers.

Conclusion: To have a 'stable' government, keep the 'horses' away. :)

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If I were a social-science student trying for a Phd, this would be my thesis:

Elections 2006

Battleground Tamil Nadu

DMK promises free colour TVs for all those living below the poverty line.

Result - DMK sweeps Tamil Nadu

Elections 2008

Battleground Karnataka

Congress promises free colour TVs for all those living below the poverty line.

Result - Congress manages second place.

Conclusion: Tamils are far more addicted to TVs than Kannadigas.

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'Poor children.' Easy to say that, and how often we've said that! But the reality of poverty and children hits you in the eye in Hubli. Almost every hotel has young kids - 8 to 13 years old - employed to clean the tables and wash the glasses. But if we were in shock to see these boys, there was more in store.

On a hot weekday, we came across a boy - maybe 12 years old - doing a demonstration on the road, in the middle of a market area, in front of a theatre. He obviously had only the clothes he was wearing - for his shirt was spread out on the road for people to throw a few coins into. and now, what was the demonstration? First, he would make a speech: "please give me some money, I haven't eaten anything since morning... I can do this brave act for you - even if my hands start bleeding, I'll break this stone with my elbows...". After a few minutes of impassioned pleas, he would go on to do just that - hit a large stone with his elbow, break it into small pieces... passersby stopped, gave a few coins... some asked him where he was from.. he would just respond - "I'm from Harihar, came here to earn a living..."

After seeing numerous fake beggars in Bangalore, I had kind of begun believing all beggars are fake, people aren't that poor, really... but that's not true...

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'Just take a right at the next circle - that road will take you to T Narsipura.' I'm always amazed at the sense of direction I find in Mysore. Maybe it's just me and my fate. But every time I've been to Mysore on a shoot, and stopped to ask for directions, I've come across some of the funniest responses ever. Like - just keep going straight at the next T intersection... just take a left turn (while pointing to his right)... and the classic one we came across the last time - 'Just take a right at the next circle - the road will take you to T Narsipura.' (the picture in my mind - a road that keeps moving like a conveyor belt - delivering vehicles to different destinations every now and then. Oh well, this too, we may see some day.)

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I am anti-cordless. Give me a cordless mike and I'll always be paranoid that : a) it'll malfunction; b) its batteries will run out; c) someone will push it off the table and it'll not capture the sound it's meant to.

But it's a powerful instrument if you want to want to stand really really far and pull off a stylized piece-to-camera. And that's what happened in Belgaum, where Venkat, my half-mad video journalist, insisted on making me stand in the middle of a market place (really, near the Maruti mandir). He went to the second floor of the Maruti mandir (Jai Hanuman!), put his camera where I could almost not see it... and gave commands by gesturing when I had to start.

Now, Venkat, apart from being half-mad, is a perfectionist. Which basically means that he'll make me say the same thing at least 27 times from different angles until he's sure, very sure, that I've got it right (no worry about him, he always gets it right, he says). So I begin my dialogue - 'the language issue may be an emotional one, but you can't live on it. The basics of roti, pani and sadak...' "Why is that lady talking to herself?" "Ma, look, that aunty is talking to the sky." A few glares, a crowd of students passing by turn around and stare... I'm feeling squeamish. But Venkat is impossible. "Those guys stopped and stared at you in the middle of the shoot - can't have that - let's re-shoot."

The exercise begins again - 'the language issue may be emotional...' Puzzled hawker blows soap bubbles into my face. Re-take. 'The language issue...' "What is this girl doing in the middle of the road?" Re-take. Screeching tyres, angry honking, under-the-breath (and some over-the-breath) rebukes. "Are you mad to stand in the middle of traffic?"

Inference: The power of the cordless - enough to make you look like a half-crazed heroine trying desperately to find a side role in an Upendra movie by demonstrating your ability in self-created Hyde parks in a busy Belgaum market.

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