The year 2025, vandalised by the likes of Trump, Netanyahu and Putin, is now thankfully history, and I earnestly hope we see the backs of these war criminals in the year ahead. But that should not distract us from making our own New Year resolutions.

Mine is inspired by that Athenian, observant avian of the jungle night — the owl. And since we are all agreed that what prevails in the world, and in India, is the law of the jungle, I shall model myself on this discerning philosopher in order to survive the coming year, occasionally emitting two hoots or a blog en passant.

And I begin the year with something about which I think a lot these days — death — since I wish I were dead every time either the Donald or Mr Sambit Patra opens their capacious mouths, or every time the Supreme Court delivers a judgment.  

Let me begin this new mission with an account of a recent visit to the Lodhi Road crematorium in New Delhi, an occurrence which has become all too frequent, sadly, as I pile on the years to my biodata. Outside the electric crematorium, there is a board which says all there is to say about the hubris of our rulers, buried under layers of insensitivity:

Delhi's bureaucrats are generally faceless, which is probably a blessing to the citizens of this beleaguered city surrounded by so much ugliness! But it is in the DNA of a bureaucrat to want to be noticed, so they occasionally give in to the temptation of laying a foundation stone or two, provided, of course, that a minister has not beaten them to it.

So one can see the odd stone in front of a building or flyover or bus-stop, and one doesn't grudge them these little sops. But inaugurating a cremation platform or shed? Who would ever........

© National Herald