Aligarh Muslim University, AMU

Image result for jinnah

By Neel Anil Panicker

Are we going Pakistan’s way? Are we becoming a mirror reflection of what Pakistan has become in recent years?

By focusing our eyes, ears and all of our sensory perceptions on our next door neighbour are we in real danger of morphing into the monster that Pakistan has turned into?

Well, if you were to ask me I am going to stick my neck out and say an emphatic ‘Yes’.

Chew on this___Ram, Padmavat, cow, beef, Taj…we seem to be never falling short of issues to fight over. Almost every other day we are out on the streets, armour and shield, guns blazing, ready to attack and maraud and exterminate vile enemies of the nation__be they real or imaginary.

The goal posts keep changing, the game remains the same, the spectators ever on the rise.

The latest in this year’s edition of the IPL- acronym for the great Indian Political League__is the absolutely farcical and totally unavoidable brouhaha created over Mohammed Ali Jinnah’s portrait.

I am of the firm opinion that all those students and their political Godfathers who are crying themselves hoarse and fighting a pitched battle in a bid to force authorities to remove Jinnah’s portrait from the precincts of Aligarh Muslim University, are anti-nationals.

Yes, you heard that__these lumpen hooliganists, this fringe group of pseudo nationalists who indulge in violence and fight over non-issues, who go about brow beating and attacking all those who oppose them including the police and all right thinking citizens of this great country__they all are anti-nationals for in this 21 ist century post liberalised highly competitive modernist economic world that we live in the only rightful definition of anti-national that we need to subscribe to is one who expends his time and resources in derailing the economic growth of a nation.

For aren’t they not anti-nationals all those who burn effigies, stop traffic and hold up trains, sit in dharnas and kill and loot and plunder in the name of protecting, preserving, protecting, upholding some abstract dinosaur like values so very absolutely anachronistic in today’s jet age?

Shouldn’t the students of Aligarh Muslim University of both  and all political hues be expending their valuable time and energy into the

pursuit of education, a pursuit that would not just shore up their intellectual wealth but also help them bag jobs and ultimately lift this country out of the economic morass that it has fallen into?

It is a question that needs answering; not just by the innocent lambs who are systematically led to slaughter by their political self serving selfish political masters but by all right thinking national loving citizens of this country.

And the answers need to come, fast and quick, for I am afraid, the time is running out.

#neelanilpanicker #editorial #KNEELING DOWN #jinnah #amu #politics #anti-national #portrait




Image result for naresh agarwal
By Neel Anil Panicker
For everything I’m game
I’ve absolutely no shame
Nobody’s to blame
For me all are same
What I do has no name
Though I have some fame.
#neelanilpanicker #poem #politics #nareshagarwal #modi #india #politics



Hosted by  Sunday Fiction  at


Playing at a theatre near you

17 Anonymous 19 November 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

A ghoonghtaless brave Rajput princess bedecked in mesmerizing regal wear, prancing around in her own magnificent gold bedecked palace courtyard, dancing her heart out in gay abandon, her swirling lehanga swishing wildly in huge concentric circles while her dainty hennaed hands rise up to the skies above, her beautiful kohl-lined eyes sparkling with divine love, her lips a prayer, ever seeking blessings for the earthlings below.

Deepika-Padukone Ghoomar-song_1

Or, a near desperate woman forced to step out of her home in search of her ‘missing’ husband, overnight losing her moniker Goddess Durga; instead finding herself metamorphosed into a mere object of man’s lascivious predatory instincts.

Still another, bogged down by the vicissitudes of fate, compelled by the dire need to keep body and soul together, sheds her clothes under the harsh glare of arc lights, only to rejoin her starving family of five including a paralytic father and three mother-less younger siblings, their hollowed eyes hooked onto to the bread crumbs that she clutches in her hands, her paltry wages of the day.

Disturbing, uneasy, uncomfortable… is that what these images evoke in us?

Yes, and that’s because it’s we, the male of the human species, who decide the status of women in this world. It’s we who decide whether women are to be revered or reviled.

For us, especially, the men of India, women are a binary.

It’s easy slotting them. They are either good or bad, the compartmentalization arrived at from the periscope of our ever vigilant male eyes.

We decide who is to be worshipped and who is to be crucified; we decide who is to be hailed as a princess and a goddess, and who is to be hauled to be coals and branded a witch, a siren, or a slot. It is we and we alone that decides who is a good woman and who is a bad one.

And woe betide anyone who dares to defy us, challenge us, question our unquestionable hegemony over all such matters.

We vow to throttle all such voices; swear to ban, burn and bust them, crush them to pulp__all ye ‘uncultural voices’.

Such pests must best be put to rest.

Long live the Indian male, long live India, the India of our dreams, the India of our vision, the India of only our vision.




Note: I have slightly deviated and written a longre non-fictional piece as i felt this is a story that needed to be told in the present context that is playing out in India. Hope you shall forgive me for this rather off beat, long piece.


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By Neel Anil Panicker   ( word count: 162)

Haruki Nakaoka inserted the ATM card, punched in a few keys, and pocketed the crispy yens that ejected out of its mouth.

The twenty-one-year old was out on a double celebration: to mark his law school graduation; also his first date since leaving high school

“What’s this,” asked Indira peering into a small white dot embedded into the top left of a glistening rectangular grey tile floor.
“It”, replied, Haruki, “is the exact spot where ‘David’ was stabbed to death.”

“David who? ”, asked his Indian girlfriend, as her eyes surveyed a black plaque on the wall alongside.

“ This is a commemorative wall in his honour.  ‘David’ Hara Takashi was the first ‘commoner’ Prime Minister of Japan who served from 1918 to November 4, 1921, the evening he was assassinated by an ultra right activist.”

“A Japanese Christian? ”

Takashi Hara posing.jpg

“He was baptized at 17”, replied Haruki before steering her away from the station.

He forgot to mention that David’s killer was his grandfather.

(c)neelanilpanicker2017 # fiction # short story #whatpegmansaw

Hara Takashi (原 敬?, 9 February 1856 – 4 November 1921) was a Japanesepolitician and the 10th Prime Minister of Japan from 29 September 1918 until his assassination on 4 November 1921. He was also called Hara Kei informally. He was the first commoner appointed to the office of prime minister of Japan, giving him the informal title of “commoner prime minister” (平民宰相heimin saishō?). He was also the first Japanese Christian Prime Minister.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

Written for whatpegmansaw at


Dear Friends,

I am sorry but like Lain Kelly, I too couldn’t stop myself from writing something that reflects the changed political reality of our times.


TRUMPING THE WALL  (200 words)

By Neel Anil Panicker

‘The screws of the world’, Richard muttered under his breath as he turned off the television.

Killings, hatred, bombings, laws, in-laws…the world seemed to have gone mad.

It reminded him of something.

“Chris, have you taken your medicines?,” he called out.

There was no response.

Richard checked his watch. 8 o’clock. Not yet sleep time.

He walked into the room.

There was no one. The bed was littered with toys. A flickering video game suggested recent activity.

A folded yellow paper lay around it.

He picked it up and, read its contents.

‘Dear Dad,

Miss Janet tells us we have a new President. She said he is very bad. He is building a wall, she told the class. Even Bob and Steve said the same. I am very afraid. You promised Mom will come soon but I know you are lying.

This man is evil. He will never allow Mom to stay with us.

I love you a lot but I want to live with Mom. I am leaving for Iraq. I have my boat.

I built it on my own. Learnt that in Arts class.

I will come back soon, to take you also.

Your loving son,





© C.E.Ayr

Sunday Photo Fiction – January 29th 2017


Click on the image see a larger version.

Written for fiction writing contest Sunday Fictioner hosted by

neelwrites/essay/USelections/the beginningoftheend/17/11/2016


By Neel Anil Panciker

A week ago the absolute unthinkable happened. I watched on television the less comical, more tragical spectacle of a slithery seventy year old bronze haired man daubed in mismatched silver and horrendous pink thundering from the stage his silver tongued note of thanks to the people of America, to at least all those who elected him to become the next President of America.

As the camera panned the crowd I noticed  that amongst his retinue of supporters who cheered every single word and gesture of his__standing and thumping their fists from all around the overfilled convention hall__were a sizeable number of women, mostly White.

I switched off the idiot box in exasperation.

I am angry and let me to tell you why. Angry that citizens of the most powerful nation of the world could elect someone like Donald Trump to be their President for the next four years.
Trump supporters, (and mind you they lurk in every nook and corner of the  world), nay sayers,  fence sitters and generally do no gooders might go ahead and argue that why and how does it concern me, sitting here in India, a million miles away, who gets elected as America’s President.

“Why bother over someone who is not your President or Prime Minister?” is their argument.

But then that’s exactly my point. We just don’t care if the problem is not immediate to our concerns or affects us in our daily lives.

But then that’s precisely the reason why a person with a stinkingly large amount of money and questionable bonafides was able to tap into the fragile sentiments of the vast underbelly of anxiety driven, debt ridden near jobless working class America and able to whip up a xenophobic rage so fierce that it ultimately saw them turning in multitudes to vote him into office.

The election of this evil Pied Piper who so very cleverly has deceived a lot of ‘mice’ into falsely believing in his promise of Utopia, is to say the least, the death knell of morality in this world.

It is the beginning of the end of justice and fair play and of our belief in the higher and nobler ideals of righteousness and decency.

It is not just a huge body blow to all right thinking men and women of America who fought tooth and nail to keep that megalomaniac, pussy grabbing, bad mouthing, deranged sadistic monster called Trump, but it is also a triumph for a miniscule but increasingly burgeoning belligerent gang; those  purveyors of sexist and misogynistic ideologies; the sellers of myopic dresams.

It is the ultimate thunderous seal of approval for all manner of social misconduct; the proud chest thumping uproarious acceptance of sexual abuse, rape and incest.

The triumph of such an obviously farcical cartoon as Trump is a victory of bad over good; a sure shot boost for all sexual predators and rapists out there in every city and country of the world; those men of all ages and hues and colours and sexual preferences who brazenly carry out their despicable acts of perversion, playing with and abusing the trust and innocence of young kids and poor, hapless women who are  forced to silently suffer such indignations and utter humiliations even as they find their voices stifled and their spirits crushed by an increasingly masochistic world that conveniently glosses over and in some cases, as witnessed by the elevation of Trump as President, hails them as rightful acts of male machismo that are treated as the birthright of the vainly rich and insanely powerful.

I am sadly ashamed and deeply shocked that innocent, educated and hard working American White men, and quite a few women too, bought into this monster serial abuser’s sales spiel of restoring the dignity of the White majority; of setting right the alleged wrongs of a skewed labour market; of restoring the primacy of hitherto ignored small towns and cities of America and hoisting them as the next big thing__the new epicenters of wealth and prestige.

But more than all this, even more shockingly repulsive is the sickening thought that despite being fed lurid details of the litany of sexual misadventures indulged in by this man and his masochistic and bombastic acceptance of the same, a vast majority of otherwise well informed White Americans and quite a few non-Whites as well bought into this utter nonsense and whipped up homophobic rage and angst masterfully choreographed up by Trump and his dubious gang of self serving supporters

Clearly, all those who voted this man to the chair of the most powerful man on Earth have bartered their souls in the mistaken exchange for what they believe is the beginning of good tidings.

By electing him they have invited the Devil into their homes. And for Trump, he simply gets a much larger canvas now to shamelessly play out his debauchery and indulge in gory sexual fantasies;, only this time, it comes with legal sanction.

The election of such a vain, vile and unrepentant sexual predator is the most immoral thing to have happened for a long, long time.

Very tragically, for once, bad has trumped good.