Slumdog

Who would have thought that the Oscar goes to the Indian film Slumdog Millionaire this year? And yet Slumdog shines.

As most audience realized, the film is based on a novel written by Indian diplomat Vikas Swarup. I'm not making a judgment about the writing of a diplomat – far from it – but rather noting the undiplomatic manner Jamal Malik answered the interrogation. Picture Jamal at the police station answering the accusation of cheating in order to win two million rupees - by a former street child with little education.

After watching the Slumdog, I went home and had a dream. To help you set the scene in my dream, I should tell you that I didn't take part in "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire." That wasn't a dream of millionaire. I simply found myself dumbfounded in a meeting, with beads of perspiration glistering over my forehead - similar to the street child Jamal.

I was asked to give thoughts on the courageous move proposed by the Prime Minister. I waited. Should I heave a pail of cold water on the suggestion, I surmised, I will get myself into trouble. Call it a stupid move, and I'll get as sure as hell a two-ton chunk of marble dropped on my head.

"I'm not sure that our team will be totally comfortable with the change," I replied at the end of my dream.

The meaning of I'm not sure, obviously, is the opposite of what is to be taken literally. I am quite sure that we're not totally comfortable. This is akin to the situation when we're being challenged on a proposed cut in medical expenditure. "We're not cutting a thing," we should answer. "We're reducing the rate of increase." As taught by William Safire, this should be followed by a laboured explanation how the net amount being spent is more, but less than it would have been if the current rate of increase were allowed to run amok.

You gotta ask, Isn't this a lie?

This isn't, I should make plain, a lie. Come to think of it, we're simply economical with the truth.