मेरी तप की आकांक्षा और मोक्षमार्ग की बाधाएँ

पुराने ज़माने में ऋषि मुनी बात-बात पर तपस्या में लग जाते थे। क्रोध पर नियंत्रण नहीं रहा तो पर्वत पर पाँच वर्षों की तपस्या, काम वासना में मन फिसला तो किसी गहन कंदरा में दस वर्षों की कठिन तपस्या आम बात थी। इन तपस्याओं को भंग करने के लिये क्रमश: राक्षसों और अप्सराओं की व्यवस्था भी थी, जो परीक्षा को और भी कठिन बना देती थी।

अब मुझे कोई ये बताए कि अपने कामकाज से पाँच दस वर्षों की छुट्टी कैसे मिल जाती थी उन्हें? फिर कुल जमा सत्तर अस्सी वर्षों की ज़िंदगी में तीस चालीस साल तपस्या और प्रायश्चित में ही निक़ल जाएँ, और कोई बीस साल बचपन के घटा लें, तो बचे कोई पंद्रह साल। अब इसमें कोई क्या जिये और क्या प्रमाद और पाप करे?

कभी कभी उकताहट में मेरी भी इच्छा होती है कि पाँच सात वर्षों की तपस्या पर निकल पड़ूँ। पर मेरे संसार से विरक्ति के निर्णय पर पानी फिर जाता है कि साल भर में कुल जमा आठ दिन आकस्मिक अवकाश के मिलते हैं। अर्न्ड और मेडिकल लीव इत्यादि मिला दें तो महीना, सवा महीना और। इनमें आधे तो धर्मपत्नी की शॉपिंग में बैग और टोकरियाँ उठाते ही निकल जाते हैं। एक बाबा ने कहा, बेटा एक्स्ट्राऑर्डिनरी लीव लेकर मेरे साथ हिमालय चला चल। वहाँ तुम्हें दीक्षा दूँगा और तपस्या के गुर सिखाऊँगा। बाबा इतने आत्मीय तरीक़े से बोल रहे थे कि एक बार तो मुझे लगा कि तस्करी के गुर सिखाने की बात हो रही है। पहले तो मैं ख़ुश हुआ कि पाँच साल तक घर दफ़्तर के झंझटों से छुटकारा मिलेगा और मेरी अनुपस्थिति में बॉस और पत्नी दोनों को मेरी कमी खलेगी और मेरी क़ीमत पता चलेगी।

पत्नी ने मेरा प्लान सुना तो बिना सिर उठाए बोलीं, “जाते हुए रास्ते में ज़रा मेरा मोबाईल मरम्मत को देते जाना और ड्राईक्लीनर के यहाँ मेरा शॉल दे देना; मैं वापस मँगवा लूँगी।” मैंने कहा कि भागवान मैं पाँच साल के लिये जा रहा हूँ। वे बोलीं कि फिर अख़बार वाले को बोल देना कि इंडियन एक्सप्रेस बंद कर दे, मैं तो हिंदुस्तान टाईम्स पढ़ती हूँ। और हॉं, होमलोन, कार लोन और आईफ़ोन के ई एम आई भरने का इंतज़ाम करते जाना। इतना सुनते ही तपस्या के मंसूबों पर पानी फिर गया। ये कमबख़्त ई एम आई भी ग़ज़ब की बीमारी है, लगी तो छूटती ही नहीं। अरे बीमारी क्या, बंधुआ मज़दूरी है, साहब।

फिर सोचा कि घने जंगल में गुरु और उनके चेलों ने खाना पकाने और झाड़ू पोंछा का काम दे दिया, तो ना तो तपस्या और चाकरी हो पायेगी, और ना ही भागा जायेगा। ये साधु लोग दस दस साल की तपस्या में खाते क्या होंगे? आस पास के फल और कंदमूल तो कुछ महीनों में निपट जाते होंगे। और अपना कोई खेती बाड़ी का भी अनुभव नहीं है कि सिंधु घाटी सभ्यता से प्रेरणा लेकर गाँव ही बसा लूँ। और फिर गाँव ही बसाना था तो संन्यास क्यों लेना?

फिर सोचा बिग बास्केट या ज़ोमैटो को ही रेगुलर सप्लाई का एडवांस ऑर्डर दे कर प्रयाण करूँ। पर उन्होंने वेबसाईट पर पूछा कि अपना पिन कोड डालें। अब दंडकारण्य और हिमालय की कंदराओं का भी पिन कोड होता है भला?

कुल मिलाकर निष्कर्ष यह है कि समस्त ईश्वरीय और सांसारिक शक्तियाँ मेरी शांति और मोक्ष की राह में बाधाएँ बन खड़ी हैं। चलिये छोड़िये, मेरे कार्यालय जाने का टाईम हो गया। निकलता हूँ, नहीं तो बॉस झणमात्र में विरक्ति के मार्ग पर धकेल देगा।

Remembering Father on Mother’s Day

Loss of one’s father is a shock that is impossible to recover from. Don’t get me wrong. Mother is no less important. Mother is the very essence of your being - she brings you into this world, suffers sleepless nights so that you sleep soundly, bears with your tantrums, sicknesses, understands your needs even before you express them and provides the very basis of emotional well being. Loss of one’s mother is devastating.

But, when father leaves the world, the feeling is of complete rudderelssness. Who would you go to explain your grown-up problems, who is your sounding board now? Where is the person by whose side you would just sit and sip your tea saying nothing, but all is understood and shared? One feels like a branch adrift in the waves after the collosal trunk of the tree has been cut and taken away. Where does the rootless branch find its moorings now?

After months of grieving one realises that this rootless branch is actually the colossal trunk to its own little branches and must, therefore, dig in. One must therefore bear and move on. Easy to say, but one must now grieve within, not outwardly.

An Ode to Babugiri

I had an interesting incident in Southern Railway, a typical babu response to a routine matter. The response was meant to impress all and sundry how on meticulous the Finance babu was and that nothing could sneak past his x-ray eyes. 

A purchase order was held up by a junior officer in Finance because the initial indent for material was not made on pink paper. Even though the indent had gone through the stages of vetting, issue of tender and tender committee proceedings, each of which stage has a finance officer in the picture. Yet, when the purchase order went to finance for final vetting, the section officer raised the matter and stopped the P.O. An officer, who would not trust his own judgement and be guided to the hilt by a subordinate ministerial staff, promptly issued a letter station that since the PINK paper was missing, someone had better explain the unpardonable lapse.

I spoke with the Principal Financial Advisor,  my counterpart, on the absurdity of it all. He would have none of it - if the rules say pink, it must be pink. I then enquired of him as to how a PINK indent would now be prepared as all indents and further handling of it has been made online. Then, I sent a poem composed by me to the PFA.

The gentleman was a South Indian, but he had studied in IITD and spoke, wrote and understood Hindi well. He then took it rather sportingly and responded in equal measure. Here are the documents.

DREAM URBAN LIFE - Any takers anymore?

What fun is living in a metropolitan city if there are no movies, clubs, restaurants, parties, music festivals and lit-fests? Over time cities have become centres of business, culture, art and intellectual discourse. The rising density due to migration to urban areas was fuelled by a desire to be a part of it all. Not long ago the same cities had been killing fields of infectious diseases and the raging Corona has established it once again.

As those services in the cities, which make them cities in the first place, shut down or tone down, there will be a massive job-loss. All the restaurants, multiplexes, theatres, malls, retail, exhibition and marriage halls, catering services and consequently hotels, transport, taxis, buses and metros bring down scales and frequencies of services they will necessarily shed workers. Who will, then, pay high rentals of city apartments? So, whether those rendered jobless will find gainful employment or not is a big question, we can be sure that they can no longer afford expensive city living.

So, as people migrate away from big cities will big business follow them? We don’t know since it was always the other way round. Maybe big business will not exist after all. In any case as many establishments and people working for them have found that work from home works equally well, why live in unaffordable housing as the home can now be anywhere.

Killing of Sadhus and Attack on Arnab (What is amiss?)

Killing of Sadhus in Palghar is disturbing no doubt, but such motivated attacks have been common. Attack on Arnab is also understandable since journalist are often attacked in our country. What is not acceptable is the way the police, the first stage in law enforcement, behaved in both cases.

There is clear video evidence that four policemen stood by while the Sadhus were mercilessly beaten for over half an hour by a brutal mob until they died. Not only did these policemen did not act, the video suggests that they were walking around inside the murderous circle and probably even prevented escape of the Sadhus if not prodded the mob further. Four policemen with guns are enough to drive away a violent mob simply by using their guns. What are the guns provided after all if not to protect the innocent and to dissuade a criminal? No action has been taken against these policemen. So, that raises the level of culpability to their bosses too.

Arnab, a famous and intrepid journalist, had to spend ten hours in a police station simply to lodge a First Information Report. Imagine the plight of a common citizen, who is ever pitched against the high and mighty. Even after ten hours and pleading with the DCP, the sections of the IPC were toned down in the FIR to facilitate the goons to be set at large with easy bail and possibly even escape any meaningful and exemplary sentence. The police ignored the statement of one of their own, who was deputed as a security guard of Arnab. Even when the policeman guarding Arnab specifically identified the culprits with a political party, there was great reluctance in his own department to accept that. Well, an FIR is just what if suggests - a First Information Report - It should record all the information, which is first available. But, FIRs are often filed with an ultimate objective.

An honest and neutral police is the first step towards a deterrent yet fair criminal justice system. So, while you may be outraged over the murder of the Sadhus and the attack on Arnab, do shed a few tears for the criminal justice system, which fails us again and again with no correction in sight.

On the the First Engineers’ Day After Train-18

In my SCRA interview I was asked a simple-sounding question, “So you want to be an engineer?  Can you name five engineers of the country?”

Pat I replied, “Vikram Sarabhai, Meghnad Saha, Satish Dhawan ... .” The interviewer corrected me, “They are scientists. I want names of engineers.” “Umm...” I said, “Visweswaraiya.”

“Correct, give us four more names.” I couldn’t.

A scientist gives us a new theory, even a new design. He gives us a Fast Breeder Nuclear Reactor, a Chandrayaan or DNA Sequencing. An engineer puts the science through a multiplication process. He sets up factories and economic means to mass produce satellites, rockets, reactors and Automatic DNA Sequencing Machines. He converts the wispy dreams of scientists into concrete, steel and semiconductors. A scientist is often allowed to fail, not an engineer.

I am privileged to have worked with a brilliant team of engineers in the Integral Coach Factory that designed and put together the Train 18, or the Vande Bharat Express, the first ever semi-high speed train made in India.

The Vande Bharat Express has run uninterrupted for seven months without a single failure or mishap. Unfortunately, its success became its undoing just as its mass production plan was laid out.

Crisis in the Indian Automotive Sector! Really?

Media is agog with the crisis in Indian Automobile Industry - sales are down, losses are mounting, there is unsold inventory and so on. Well, this may sound outrageous, but have the Indian car makers heard the word called “DISCOUNT”. 

Our farmers lose money, not only due to low procurement prices, but also due to problems that are well known, but beyond their control. Land holding are small making farming increasingly unviable. Input costs are rising. Middlemen buy low, hoard and then sell high cornering all profits. Most marginal farmers are deep in debt; some even commit suicide in despair. Yet, they don’t stop farming, nor do they leave the land fallow for a crop season the way car factories are shutting down production for a few days every month.

Mobile phone makers have to grapple with an intensely competitive and fast saturating market. They must continuously innovate to make new models and sell for minimal profits. They have to clear old stocks at massive discounts. They are not shutting down either. 

Neither farmers nor mobile phone manufacturers are going to town crying copious tears over losses, drop in sales, high taxes or unsold inventories. They get up and brace for another season of cropping or innovation respectively.

Why don’t car majors sell a ten lakh car for five lakhs to clear inventories? After all, the real estate sector is doing exactly that. Why don’t they innovate and bring down their price tags? Maybe we have pampered them too long. 

An aspiring India was fascinated with owning personal cars, but no more. We still want a new car, even the first car in life, but give us a deal Mr. Car Manufacturer! I will shed no tears over your loss of business. We have borne with you for nearly three decades of poor quality, barebones designs, indifferent after sales service and and high prices. No more.

Thank you.

Tête-à-tête with Gupta Ji

One gets a call in the morning, “Namaste, Sir! Gupta speaking, Sir!” Or, “Sir, Sharma here.” 

Now there are a million Guptas and half a million Sharmas around. I know a few thousand of them each. But, I don’t have the heart to ask the caller, “Gupta who?” Or, “Kaun Sharma, bhai?” Sometimes they are more specific, “Sir, AK Gupta here” or PK Sharma speaking, Sir!” That doesn’t give me a clue either since I probably know at least two dozen AK Guptas and a dozen PK Sharmas. 

The caller is so warm in his introduction and expects that I place him immediately in the galaxy of Guptas and Sharmas that I play along, “Yes, yes, Gupta! How are you doing?” Now, this is a pit I have dug for myself. The guys is elated for having reignited the old aquaintance and I, on the other hand, cannot retrace my steps anytime now and ask, “But, Gupta who?” So, I converse away tentatively, trying all the while, to exactly pinpoint which Gupta I am speaking with. This is how it goes.

Gupta says, “Sir, it is great to see you going places.” I am not sure whether Gupta is speaking about my transfers or my promotions.

I reply, “Yes thank you, Gupta. Where have you been all these years?” I ask a probing question and expect to identify the guy from his chain of transfers. After all there can’t be too many Guptas going through Gorakhpur, Hubli, Bilaspur and Bikaner in that sequence. Or, some similar transfer-travel by the person could trigger the Sherlock Holmes in me. 

Unfortunately, Gupta says, “ Where will I go, Sir? I am in Lucknow only.” The adjective “only” specifies a non-transferable Gupta. Now, I know at least half-a-dozen Guptas in Lucknow. Sherlock Holmes gets no clues.

Finally we hang up after enquiring about the whereabouts, family and children and where we plan to settle down after retirement. Guess where Gupta will settle down. Lucknow only. Gupta tells me that he has built a house in Gomtinagar, “Next to Sharma’s house, Sir. You know Sharma’s house, don’t you?”

I have now been invited by Gupta to visit him. At least I know the city now. I can tell the rickshaw wallah in Lucknow to take me to Gupta Ji, who lives next to Sharma Ji. Do you think I will reach him?

                       —-ooo—-

बड़े बाबू और प्रोसीजर

मैं ही हूँ प्रोसीजर बाबू
नहीं किसी के आया क़ाबू
जनता हो या हो सरकार
न्यायपालिका या अख़बार
चाहे जितना ज़ोर लगा लें
क़लम चला लें या तलवार
मेरे आगे सब लाचार

बड़े सचिव ने फ़ाईल चलाई
उत्तम थे उनके सुविचार
लगने हैं उद्योग, कि खोलें
देश में नूतन कारोबार
नौकरियॉं फिर ख़ूब बढ़ेंगी
देश में ख़ुशहाली फैलेगी
रेलगाड़ी, बस और जहाज़
उपग्रह, रॉकेट, खेत, अनाज

पर मैंने जब नोटिंग डाली
ऑब्जेक्शन की स्याही काली
फ़ाईल भेज दें वित्त विभाग
उनकी फिर अनुमति के बाद
पर्यावरण विभाग से पूछें
कहीं नहीं हो कोई विवाद
फिर क़ानून विभाग का ठप्पा
सचिवालय का चप्पा-चप्पा
जब तक ना छानें, सरकार!
मेरी राय यही है, सर जी!
आगे बढ़ने में है रार

वैसे मैं हूँ अदना बाबू
लेकिन सिस्टम है बेक़ाबू
आप बड़े साहब हैं मेरे
पर पग-पग चक्कर बहुतेरे
मैं ना चाहूँ आप फँसें, सर!
प्रोसीजर ना भंग करें, सर!
और कैरियर अच्छा होगा
कहीं फँसे तो गच्चा होगा

काम का क्या है? होता होगा
यही देश ने अब तक भोगा
चाहे कोई करे ना कुछ, पर
पहनें सब सच का ही चोगा
सर आपके तीस बरस हैं
मंत्री जी के केवल पॉंच
ऑर्डर सरकारी हो कुछ भी
आप फूँककर पीवें छाछ

मंत्री आते जाते रहते
जनता के भी सपने बनते
आप तो सर ख़ुद बच के चलिये
फ़ाईल-पत्र पर कुछ मत लिखिये
मैंने अब तक के सचिवों को
यही ज्ञान बाँटा श्रीमान्
बेदाग़ सब हुए रिटायर
पेंशन पाया और सम्मान

साहब सुन कर मेरी राय
हुए बड़े भयभीत
सोचे, फिर कुछ गुन कर बोले
अगर यही है रीत
मैं काहे को जान फँसाऊँ
क्यों निष्ठा बेकार दिखाऊँ
आप, बड़े बाबू! हैं मेरे
असली तारणहार
ऐन वक़्त पर मुझे आपने
सही दिखाया द्वार

बड़े बाबू, इन पत्रों को अब
लगा ठिकाने घर चलें
ये सारे प्रस्ताव भी फाड़ें
कूड़ेदान के अंदर डालें
अब क्या करना
क्यूँकर डरना
तनखा को तो है ही आना
बस घर-दफ़्तर आना जाना
काम करें या बैठे ठाले
रूई कान में ठूँस के डालें
मेरा क्या कोई करे बिगाड़
मैं तो हूँ नियमों की आड़
मेरी नौकरी मेरी जान
कुर्सी से मेरी पहचान
जनता जाये चूल्हे भाड़।
 —-ooo—-

Cephalgia = Headache

When an ailing person goes to a doctor, he expresses his ailment in his own language. The doctor understands and treats him accordingly. He doesn’t ask the patient to present his problem in the language of medical text books, such as xerostomiath for dry mouth. The doctor even writes a prescription that the patient and the pharmacist, both understand. At no stage during his treatment is the patient required to hire a medical licensee to speak with the doctor, the hospital or the pharmacist.

The same is true of other specialised professions too. A client can speak with and express his needs in plain language to an architect or a designer. These professional understand the customer well without asking him to write down mathematical equations or a treatise in strength and properties of material. Yet they deliver exactly what was intended.

But, when an aggrieved person goes to a court of law, he needs the assistance of a lawyer even to write down his grievance. The judge wouldn’t read any document written in plain language; the legal system insists on a document that the poor petitioner doesn’t even understand. It is written in cryptic English, with huge dollops of Latin thrown in. The legal system has woven such a web of mystery and complexity around itself that it is impossible for the common man to find his way through the maze. He necessarily needs an expensive guide. What is worse, the guide speaks a language and takes a path that the litigant finds intractable too. 

In a case that I had filed in a District Consumer Forum, the judge asked me, “Where is your lawyer?” I asked the judge if it was mandatory to have a lawyer and that I could not afford one anyway. I told him that I was standing in the court and that I would present the case myself. The lordship had no option but to shut up. During one of the subsequent hearings (there were too many of them; I finally had to withdraw and settle out of court) the judge came to the court and promptly “retired to his chamber” saying that he wouldn’t hear any case that day. All the other lawyers present in the court started cursing him behind his back for wasting their day. Not knowing the ways of the court, I went to the judge’s “chamber” and asked him why he wouldn’t hear my case. I told him that I had come from a great distance and had spent big money on travel. I requested that that he must hear me out. The lordship was shaken out his smug stupor and came back to the court. The lawyers were very surprised and impressed with me for the feat of having brought back the judge sahib to do his duty! Sometimes it pays to be ignorant.

One of the biggest reforms that the judiciary can bring about is to enable the common man, with reasonable education, to be able to present his case in simple language and argue his side in a court of law. A good lawyer in a higher court charges upwards of ten lakh Rupees for each appearance. Some good ones may earn more in a day than the judge earns in the whole year. This expensive private club must be disbanded. Arguments that it requires a licensed lawyer to present precedents and bring forth mention of similar cases and judgements before the court are hollow. A person of average intelligence can find such references on the Internet without expert help. Besides, such arguments also applies to a doctor treating a patient. He too bases his advice and prescription on past cases and experience, but does that himself without asking the patient to do it for him. A good judge should be able to help the litigant present his case properly and also protect him from the legalese-attack if the other party decides to field an experienced lawyer. It requires a change in the mindset of our judges, who must transform into service providers rather than sitting stiff as uptight dispensers of punishments, reliefs, compensations or mercies. A doctor, who is an arbiter between the patient and his illness does it every time.

Since the judiciary repulses all external efforts to reform the system, it has to do it all by itself. Will such a day come?

The Original Sardar vs. The Englishman

With Freedom of India imminent it was clear that whoever became the president of the Congress in 1946 would also become the first prime minister of India. The Congress Working Committee (CWC) was to elect the president out of the nominations sent by the PCCs of states.

The CWC met on 29 April 1946 to consider the nominations sent by the PCCs. 12 of the 15 (80%) PCCs nominated Sardar Patel; and 3 PCCs out of the 15 (20%) did not nominate anyone. It therefore turned out to be a non-contest. Sardar Patel was the only choice, and an undisputed choice, with not a single opposition.

Looking to the unexpected (unexpected by Gandhi) development, Gandhi prodded Kripalani to convince a few CWC members to propose Nehru’s name for the party president. Kripalani promptly and unquestioningly complied: He got a few to propose Nehru’s name. Finding this queer development, Sardar Patel enquired with Gandhi, and sought his advice. Gandhi counselled him to withdraw his name. Patel complied promptly, and didn’t raise any question. That cleared the way for Nehru. 

Acharya Kripalani had told Durga Das: “All the P.C.C.s sent in the name of Patel by a majority and one or two proposed the names of Rajen Babu in addition, but none that of Jawaharlal. I knew Gandhi wanted Jawaharlal to be President for a year, and I made a proposal myself [at Gandhi’s prodding] saying ‘some Delhi fellows want Jawaharlal’s name’. I circulated it to the members of the Working Committee to get their endorsement. I played this mischief. I am to blame.

Durga Das recounted the following: “I asked Gandhi… He [Gandhi] readily agreed that Patel would have proved a better negotiator and organiser as Congress President, but he felt Nehru should head the Government. When I asked him how he reconciled this with his assessment of Patel’s qualities as a leader, he laughed and said: “Jawaharlal is the only Englishman in my camp…”

Englishman?

Sardar was far better academically, and far wiser than Nehru. Like Nehru, Sardar Patel too had studied in England. But, while Nehru’s father financed all his education, Sardar financed his own education in England, through his own earnings! While Nehru could manage to scrape through in only a poor lower second-division in England, Sardar Patel topped in the first division! Professionally too, Sardar was a successful lawyer, while Nehru was a failure. Sardar had a roaring practice, and was the highest paid lawyer in Ahmedabad, before he left it all on a call by Gandhi; while Nehru was dependent upon his father for his own upkeep, and that of his family.

(Extract from “Nehru’s 97 Major Blunders” by Rajnikant Puranik)

#MeToo and Everyone Else

#MeToo and Everyone Else

It would seem that suers and accusers are coming out of the woodwork in hordes and blaming politicians, actors, judges and sportsmen for deeds done decades ago. Well, these victim complainants were not really hiding all these years. Many of them did make noises, but they were so feeble that they went unheard or were easy to drown in the overall cacophony. It seems that either the victim has to become powerful or the molester must become big for the grievance to be heard all over again with some seriousness.

It would be unlikely that all women victims would become strong enough in course of time to be able to raise their once again with a bigger force. But, the violator, who was a middling arrival in society - an actor, a politician, a fashion designer, a dance-music guru or a professional - on his path to higher achievements is more likely to reach levels, where he can be scrutinised once again. It is these men, though there must be a sizeable number of women too, who, inebriated with new-found power on the opposite sex thought that it was normal to seduce and rape, touch, push and grope their charge. 

Questions like “why now” will be asked and sometimes corrrectly as well. After all, didn’t these women have the option of giving a hard slap to the advancing pest or just to walk away? Was a career in the chosen path the only one available, was there unemployment and starvation staring at them, was the charm of the glitzy life too good to resist? Was it the norm to succumb, was it the shortcut to success and whether it was, after all, a small price to pay since every other girl was doing so anyways? The answer to all these may be a yes. But, it is not the right answer. A wrong answer does not become the right one by a majority vote. Whereas there may be a million wrong answers, there is only one right one. Don’t we all know that from our school examination papers?

One may even argue that social mores change and they can change quickly, for the better, with modern interactive society that speaks, demonstrates and broadcasts at the speed of light. News, good and bad, travel faster than ever and people come together for a cause even without the mandatory candles and the city square squatting. Why hold a perfectly respectable achiever guilty for something he did decades ago, when it was normal to indulge in mild flirtation and maybe a couch act and weren’t there ever conceding women ready to do the bidding? The society suddenly wakes up, fired by social media, everyone’s own TV channel called the YouTube, everyone’s personal newspaper, the Facebook and everyone’s personal loudspeakers, the WhatsApp and Twitter. The society then calls to question these past masters of exploitation and demands that they at least apologise, if not face the law. But, kicking and screaming, these guys deny bluntly and fight back as if it was they who are being wronged. 

So, whereas this recent spurt in bringing out old cases may or may not lead to catharsis, it exposes the reality that the woodwork was held together only by the thin layer of glossy paint; everything within had been eaten up by termites long ago. Big names are falling like ninepins for what they did when they wielded power on the vulnerable.