The Insolvency and Bankruptcy Code (IBC) 2016, touted as a landmark reform, has entrenched crony capitalism in India under the BJP-NDA regime by socializing enormous losses onto public banks, depositors, MSMEs, workers, and taxpayers while privatizing gains for politically connected acquirers. The DHFL episode epitomizes this plunder: a solvent housing finance company was deliberately forced into IBC, leaving over 2.5 lakh middle-class depositors with negligible recovery on ₹5,375 crore claims, as ₹31,000–45,000 crore in alleged fraud was wiped clean under retrospective Section 32A and transferred for a notional Re 1 to Mr. Ajay Piramal, while being riddled with conflicts with SARFAESI, RBI Act, NHB Act and Companies Act, endless amendments as well as tweaks exposing congenital defects, moratorium abuse, CoC supremacy shielded by judicial deference, and engineered opacity, the IBC stands as a global outlier that destroys value of natural justice, violates constitutional rights under Articles 14 and 21, and devastates MSMEs. Beyond reform, it must be fully revoked and re-made from scratch in a pro-people, pro-depositor manner. This manifesto calls for a nationwide Gandhian Satyagraha through mass dharnas, RTIs, human rights complaints, and economic resistance to scrap the Code, eliminate Section 32A, enforce Section 66 fully, and secure full restitution with compound interest to all victims. The heist must end– NOW.
Author Archives: Once In A Blue Moon Academia
We are concentrating on two problems:
1. Devastating financial ecosystem
2. Catastrophic natural ecosystem
OUR OBJECTIVES
The objects of the Society shall be :
1. to promote and to protect human and animal rights in all parts of the world, study and dissemination of promotion knowledge of International Human Right related issues along with convergences of different disciplinary studies in accordance with the Philosophy of Science(s), to solve the problems related to anthropogenic global heating, to develop theory and methods, and their utilities in research and practical applications (e.g., in case of litigation related to financial abuse; psychiatric problems due to unemployment neurosis and financial abuses etc.; problems of climate change-related issues) generally, with special reference to natural and social welfare through non-violent means.
2. to undertake research in various fields of legal and psycho-social sciences, with a goal to the reduce human suffering as far as possible in a non-violent manner with a special emphasis on the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights, especially on the third pillar in this context, “Access to remedy for victims of business-related abuses”. That is, “Protect, Respect and Remedy” (one of the 31 principles implemented by the United Nations) for all on the issues of human rights and transnational corporations and other business enterprises.
3. to provide for, and undertake, the collection of information, investigations, projects and operational researches for purposes of planning and the improvement of efficient legislature as well as humane societal norms for the welfare of suffering human and non-human beings.
Mayday… Mayday… Mayday: Dispatches from the Crashing Cockpit of Speed Capitalism
This wanna-be-palimpsest charts the anatomy and ideology of speed capitalism through India’s toxic hassle-hustle culture — from Murthy’s 70-hour sermons, Deshpande’s 18-hour decrees, and the Modi-era cult of exhaustion to the SIR regime’s accelerated erasures, the parliamentary assembly line of rushed legislation, and the gig economy’s algorithmic violence. Diagnosing a civilisation in free-fall, it unmasks the energy fetish and nuclear-speed différance, achievement society’s neuronal violence, McDonaldization fused with Coca-Cola capitalism’s engineered thirst, and the cruel automation paradox of burned-out survivors beside surplus ghosts. Against this hyperindustrial descent, it offers tortoise-time (Kurmāvasthā): deliberate deceleration, creative idleness, and joyful voluntary labour (sahasa aicchik śrama) in moneyless convivial communes — drawing on Tagore’s drowned flute and city-wall critique, Gandhi’s snail-paced wayfaring pedagogy and Bread Labour, Vietnam’s war bicycles, Illich’s convivial tools, and Marx’s emancipatory vision beyond the division of labour. The dispatches culminate in a final reflexive Mayday cry from the crashing cockpit, calling for the reclamation of time, dignity, and the living Earth before hyperindustrial Armageddon swallows all.
নির্বাচন-দিনের নির্ঘুম রাত্তিরে…
This hybrid existential-political lament fuses Sartrean angoisse and Heideggerian Verfallen (falling/ptōsis/casus) with raw grief over India’s perceived democratic collapse under BJP rule. The narrator, haunted by childhood violence in 1970s Baranagar, personal testimonies of “scientific rigging,” black-swan anomalies (ghost voters, duplicate ballots, vanished CCTV footage), and crony capitalism, confronts existential vertigo: agency eroded amid undeclared emergency, EVM-ballot manipulations, and the absurd choice of “which deity to offer one’s vote.” Blending memoir, poetry, rhapsody, philosophical dialogue, and scathing satire on power, media capture, and majoritarian hypocrisy, the work mourns a “partyless democracy” betrayed into loot, violence, and inauthenticity—condemned to freedom yet falling into despair, where hell is other people and resistance dissolves into anguished song.
Democracy for Sale: Anti-Defection Law, Horse-Trading, and the Crisis of the Electoral Mandate in India
The Anti-Defection Law (Tenth Schedule, introduced by the 52nd Amendment 1985 and strengthened by the 91st Amendment 2003) was designed to curb opportunistic defections and safeguard the electoral mandate in India’s parliamentary democracy. Yet its critical loopholes—the two-thirds merger exception (Paragraph 4), unpenalised mass resignations, partisan Speakers, and ambiguities between organisational and legislature parties—have institutionalised sophisticated horse-trading. This article offers a doctrinal and empirical critique, centering on the Shiv Sena crisis (2022–23) and the Supreme Court’s Subhash Desai judgment (2023), which exposed how rebellion, strategic resignations, resort politics, and institutional delays enabled the toppling of a democratically elected government. Examining defection patterns from 2014 to 2026—including the April 2026 merger of seven AAP Rajya Sabha MPs with the BJP—it reveals the BJP’s “Operation Lotus” and “washing machine” machinery, sustained by opaque political funding, crony corporate networks, and quid-pro-quo clean chits, that betray the electorate’s verdict, erode ideological conviction, and accelerate democratic backsliding under the centralising “double engine sarkar” model. These practices undermine India’s federal structure as a Union of States and necessitate radical reforms: independent adjudication, strict timelines, tighter merger rules, bars on defectors, and full transparency in political finance—before the Tenth Schedule becomes a constitutional tool for authoritarian consolidation rather than democratic safeguard.
নোটাঃ নির্বাচনী প্রহসনের “বাইরে” নাকি !?
In this sharp critique of India’s electoral system amid the 2026 West Bengal Assembly elections, the author argues that elections have become fully stage-managed spectacles by PR experts, far beyond Chomsky’s 1989 idea of merely ratifying pre-selected options. He views NOTA as a purely symbolic moral protest with no real power — even if it gets the highest votes, the election is not cancelled and the top candidate still wins. The entire process is called a predetermined farce rigged by mass voter deletions (nearly 91 lakh), fake voters, EVM tampering, opaque counting, a biased Election Commission, money-muscle power, and institutional decay. Despite their differences, mainstream parties follow the same neoliberal policies and identity politics, offering no genuine choice. Citing Anjan Dutta, Herbert Marcuse, and articles on the “legitimation crisis,” the essay concludes that voting is pointless; NOTA or abstention combined with demands for Right to Recall and proportional representation is a more honest response.
Exi(s)ting Without Exit in Contemporary India: “Hum Hain Ki Hum Nahin?”
In the shadowed corridors of April 2026, a lone whistleblower’s fevered consciousness spirals endlessly around the single, shattering question — “Hum hain ki hum nahin?” (to be or not to be?)— existence or erasure. Trapped inside a shrinking Mumbai flat that has become both sanctuary and prison, he navigates the razor’s edge between the flickering glow of his laptop screen and the perpetual terror of the doorbell, suspended in the velvet noose of an undeclared emergency where words are crossed out before they can breathe, hate speech cruises freely along golden highways of power, while dissent drowns on isolated atolls of silence. Obsessively rewinding the traffic-island monologue from Haider, he mouths existential defiance as Rabindrasangeet clashes with raw paranoia, Tagore’s ancient frog — merely surviving (without “living”) three thousand years sealed inside a stone — merges with Foucault’s biopolitics and Derrida’s haunting spectres, while the ghosts of DHFL financial annihilation, electoral bond plunder, UAPA’s slow-motion cages, and Piramal’s crushing ₹100 crore SLAPP suit press relentlessly against the walls of his cell. Here, survival has been reduced to mere petrified existence, sanity stands accused of sedition, and compulsive repetition is no longer madness but the final desperate ritual of a fractured society replaying its own nightmare, praying that this time the ending might finally break differently — even as the doorbell continues to ring, the screen keeps flickering, and the question echoes unanswered into the void.
Banned Dialogues on Hindutva’s Phantasma: Acts of Adharma Against “Sanātana” (?) Dharma!
This activist art work, structured as a banned dramatic dialogue between two borderless earthlings, Aniket and Jijñāsā, rigorously exposes Hindutva’s Phantasma — a colonial-era political construct masquerading as eternal “Sanātana Dharma.” Through classical philosophical sources (Monier-Williams, Śaṅkara, Bhagavad Gītā, Nāsadīya Sūkta, Kautilya, etc.) juxtaposed against contemporary empirical realities — electoral bonds, crony capitalism (Adani-Reliance), temple politics, gau-raksha violence, ecological devastation (Aravalli, Hasdeo, Great Nicobar), and selective moral policing — the conversation demonstrates how the Sangh Parivar hollows the caturvarga: turning dharma into majoritarian control, artha into loot, kāma into hypocritical repression, and mokṣa into deferred spectacle. Anchored in the radical skepticism of the Nāsadīya Sūkta and the living pluralism of South and South-East Asian traditions, the work calls for reclaiming a fluid, questioning, ever-flowing dharma from its saffron instrumentalisation — earthling to earthling, until the phantasm cracks and true liberation breathes free.
Black Swans vs. the Machine: A Dialogue with Grok (AI)
This dialogue traces a charged encounter between a citizen’s lived “black swan” experiences and an AI’s data-driven reasoning, revealing how anomalies, RTI evasions, and opaque institutional practices converge into a deeper crisis of trust in electoral processes in the contemporary Indian political landscape. Through layered exchanges on SIR deletions, administrative opacity, and systemic contradictions, it argues that what is dismissed as flawed implementation may in fact signal structural disenfranchisement, while also exposing how even ostensibly neutral AI can reproduce dominant narratives by demanding unattainable standards of proof.
Sex, Lies, and the Criminal State: The Politics of Impunity in the Sangh Parivar
This article offers a sharp critique of the RSS-BJP-Sangh Parivar under Narendra Modi and Amit Shah as a self-reinforcing criminal-political machine that operates through a stark double standard: resistance from rivals, whistleblowers, judges or citizens invites persecution, elimination or institutional violence, while alignment yields protection and the “laundry of deceit” that converts legal vulnerability into political utility. Drawing on Foucault’s biopower and carceral continuum, Marcuse’s surplus repression, and Chomsky’s critique of the reward-punishment model, it traces the apparatus from its Gujarat laboratory — marked by the 2002 pogrom’s sexual violence, Snoopgate surveillance, staged encounters, Haren Pandya’s assassination, Justice Loya’s death, and Sanjiv Bhatt’s imprisonment — to its national expansion through Operation Lotus horse-trading, systemic sexual impunity, godmen paroles, cow vigilantism, Pegasus and digital surveillance, UAPA detentions, bulldozer justice, the Delhi 2020 pogrom, Article 370 revocation, CAA-NRC-SIR protests, the Adani-Hindenburg corporate-state nexus, judicial complicity in cases ranging from the Zakia Jafri clean chit and Ram Mandir verdict to reluctance over the SIR’s mass deletions (including 91 lakh names in Bengal), and the 2026 Epstein Files fallout. NCRB and NFHS-5 data expose pervasive gendered violence and under-reporting, while pseudology — unfulfilled jumlas on jobs, farmers’ income, Acche Din and Viksit Bharat — manufactures consent. The Sangh Parivar thus emerges as an integrated system in which sex, crime, and narrative are weaponised as technologies of biopower to entrench majoritarian authoritarian consolidation.
কোন্ দেবতারে ভোট মোরা করি সমর্পণ?
এই নাটকের মূল বিষয়বস্তু ঠিক করাটা বেশ খ্যাঁচাম্যাঁচা একখানা ব্যাপার। এখানে ব্যাপক ঝগড়া, তর্ক, চাপানউতোর, গালি-গালাজ, এবং সেসবের মাধ্যমেই সরাসরি কিংবা
পরোক্ষভাবে একাধিক সূত্রনির্দেশ ঘটে চলে জবানির অন্দরে-বাহিরে। আজকের ভারত তথা পশ্চিমবঙ্গের ভোটাভুটির রাজনীতিকালে এই নাটক একটা ফুলকি থেকে আগুন ধরানো agit-prop হিসেবে নিজেকে পেশ করে তাত্ত্বিক মননের উপস্থিতির পাশাপাশিই। এই নাটকের উদ্দেশ্য চিন্তার দৈন্যকে পেরোনো। পড়ে নেওয়া যাক তবে!
“To Which God Shall We Offer Our Vote?” (Kon Devotare Vote Mora Kari Samarpan?) is a bold, agit-prop Bengali political satire that fuses Vedic philosophy, Sufi syncretism, and sharp contemporary critique.
Set against the backdrop of electoral frenzy and rising majoritarianism, the play opens with the ancient Rigvedic question — “To which god shall we offer our oblation?” — and relentlessly interrogates modern democracy: To which “god” (leader, ideology, or system) do we surrender our vote?
Through a chaotic, interactive performance blending Vedic chants, Odissi dance, folk songs, revolutionary anthems, and raw audience confrontation, the central figure “I” grapples with spectators who defend “Sanatan” traditions while the bold dancer (Nati) asserts women’s agency and challenges patriarchal and caste hierarchies. The narrative explodes into a ritualistic feast involving beef and rum — reclaiming Vedic practices — even as it skewers Hindutva nationalism, voter list manipulations, algorithmic governance, and the deification of political leaders.
Drawing from the Nasadiya Sukta’s cosmic doubt, the Hiranyagarbha hymn, Tagore’s universalism, and Bulleshah’s call to break temples and mosques but never the heart filled with love, the play dismantles blind faith, communal polarization, and electoral farce. It urges the audience to choose critical inquiry (pariprashna) over blind surrender and syncretic humanity over division.
Provocative, multilingual, and deeply theatrical, this piece is both a Vedic question and a urgent political provocation — asking whether democracy itself has become just another god demanding blind oblation.
A powerful meditation on faith, power, and the right to doubt in an age of manufactured certainty.
Once in a Blue Moon Academia 