America’s history shall henceforth be divided into two new chronological periods in place of the old BC and AC (now CE). That is BT and AT. Let me help you. It means the period before Donald Trump (BT) and the period after Donald Trump (AT). Americans may forget Christ for calculating the period or designating years, era, and go for Trump era instead.

Why do I say this? Not because Trump is a friend of my Prime Minister Narendra Modi. The reason is the brave and decisive actions he is taking in the matter of foreign policy and internal administration — efforts to end war, curb nuclear proliferation, end illegal immigration, regulate unfair practices in tariff etc.

Yesterday’s newspapers screamed ‘New spouses of US citizens and Green Card holders face tough checks.’ I was not surprised. I have written about this fraud by those who are chasing the great American dream in my book “America – An Area of Light” (1993).

It is not the kind of dream that the civil rights leader Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. had for his country — I have a dream. This is a different kind of a dream — a dream to go to America and become a millionaire.

Earlier, the newly-wed spouses married to an American citizen or a Green Card holder could simply hop on to a flight and land on their dream land America — Heaven on earth, to go where one need not die but simply marry an American citizen or Green Card holder.

The sinister side of this American moth-eaten law was brought to my knowledge by my own American friend as long ago as 1992. In brief: My Indian friend of Mumbai days became an American citizen, wearing two hats — working on two jobs.

In time, he wanted to marry as he thought he was a bachelor described by Jane Austen in her novel ‘Pride and Prejudice’ —‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’

So he landed in Bengaluru and made his intention known to his people. Many came, saw him and sought time to decide. But one who was a Typist-Secretary in a small minor foreign Consular Office was too willing and in a hurry to embrace the American groom. So it was.

But alas, after a few months, she joined a lawyer’s office and his marital bliss began to evaporate. Even before a year passed, she sought a divorce.

One morning he was reading the newspaper. His wife came near him drinking a cup of coffee. He looked at her and asked if she could prepare a cup of coffee for him. She gave him a stern, contemptuous look and said: ‘I also work like you do. Go and make coffee for yourself.’ Legal war for divorce was declared! According to my friend, the law in America in such cases is heavily loaded in favour of the wife. He lost all his savings and was living alone when I saw him.

Thus the America’s humane visa policy that brought a man and woman together as husband and wife was set asunder by a cup of coffee leaving the husband a pauper.

Heaven knows ex-CITB Chairman D. Madegowda

I have been a close witness to the growth and prosperity of Mysuru since 1975. As a journalist, I have covered critically the people, places and the transformation of a “Village City,” as my Bengaluru friends would jokingly call it, into a city of over 12 lakh population with a Ring Road skirting it and its first and only Flyover.

City Improvement Trust Board (CITB), the quasi-governmental body, was providing house-sites and also low-cost houses in different layouts spread around the down-town area with beautiful names.

I have seen many Heads, known as Chairman of CITB before it was revamped and rechristened as Mysuru Urban Development Authority (MUDA) in the year 1988.

Among the Chairmen of CITB, I can with confidence and honesty say only three had rendered yeomen service to the house-less of the city — B.N. Kengegowda, who visualised D. Devaraja Urs Road, H. Kempegowda who gave us the Vishwa Manava Double Road in Kuvempunagar and D. Madegowda, who had provided over 25,000 house sites, many low income houses, middle income houses and high income houses in a dozen layouts he created within a short period (1986 – 88) in Office. Such a one as he, lost the MLA election! When myopics vote, they cannot see the visionary candidates.

Ramanavami Music Patron K. Srikantiah

On reading my Abracadabra  about K. Srikantiah in Star of Mysore dated April 9, 2025, my friend K.  Vijaya Kumar, former Jt. Director of Information & Publicity,  has post-haste sent me a WhatsApp message narrating his experience with Srikantiah, a Patron of Music.

It was 1975, 20th April and the first day programme was by the renowned Veena Maestro Chitti Babu.

K. Vijaya Kumar was travelling from Bengaluru to Mysuru in A/C first class train. Chitti Babu was with his Veena as his co-passenger. Chitti Babu was much perturbed about Srikantiah’s Ramanavami concert that evening because there was a communication gap between him and Srikantiah. The result was that there was no vehicle waiting for Chitti Babu to take him to the concert venue.

Vijaya Kumar, being ‘more loyal than the king’ kind of a government servant (unlike the majority) immediately arranged a taxi and personally took him to the venue.

Of course, Srikantiah, known for his refined manners, thanked Vijaya Kumar profusely even as he heaved a sigh of relief. Grace of Lord Rama !

President Murmu about her father’s pious act

This one I got from WhatsApp that has gone viral. This real life experience was told by our President Droupadi Murmu.

She lived in a village, Haryali, as a child. They used to cook food using dry  wood for fire, brought home by her father. It was a dry log he would cut to pieces. And her father would offer a prayer to it seeking forgiveness as he was going to hurt it and then burn it. When she asked her father why worship when it is an old, dry wood, the answer was unbelievable and humane.

He told his daughter: “This old, dry wood has given us, all our life, flowers, fruits, fresh air and rain. And even now it is useful to us as firewood to cook our food. That’s why before hurting it, I ask for forgiveness. I worship it and ask forgiveness.”

Now contrast this humane, nay spiritual, quality of a tribal with the violent bestial quality of the urban man, nay manimal, who kills his own kind without remorse for frivolous religious or other untenable reasons. Perish the thought.

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