In an effort to spread seasonal cheer, I have been writing upbeat end-of-the-year pieces in Outlook for the past 13 years. Generally, I have succeeded because the previous 365 days were mostly like the curate’s egg or, more famously, the glass half-full. Now, for the first time, I am suffering from writer’s block: I don’t know what to say. Forget the glass half-full, there is simply no glass. If you thought 2008 was our annus horribilis, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Every kind of trouble and strife appears destined to visit our shores in 2009.
Even though I belong to the much maligned media tribe reportedly only interested in circulation figures and TRPs, my cup of woes is chock-a-block. How can I conjure up a rainbow? Perhaps (especially if Mr Advani becomes the prime minister) Lord Ram will intervene and wave the magic wand, perhaps US president-elect Obama will pull our chestnuts out of the fire, perhaps Prof Hafiz Saeed will read the Koran correctly and experience a change of heart. This country is not asking for the moon—Sensex at 21000, the Congress and BJP united in tackling terror, all thieves and rapists out of the Lok Sabha, Mr N. Modi concentrating on developmental issues, Sonia Gandhi’s party learning how to play the Muslim ‘card’, fashion designers banned from Page 3.... No, the nation is just crying out for a sliver of hope, something to cling on to, a sort of common minimum programme of optimism.
Roots 
The Great Indian Chaos Theory 
