Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Friday Failures
Last night when I went out, I did not have quantity time, as I started pretty late, but spent quality time with interesting folks. Consequently, I slept at reasonable hour of 1:30 hoping I will get up on time this morning to attend my GA work. Day started with crap.
Alarm I had set was for pm and not am. For a 9AM meeting with GA supervisor, I got up at 8:45. First thing I did, shot an email to supervisor that I will be in by 9:30. With tooth brush in mouth, I frantically shoved things in microwave. Gathered stuff in my swimming bag hoping that after day ends with Finance lecture, I would conclude the day with nice swim. With water still dripping out my hair after super-fast shower, I gathered suits to drop at drycleaner’s for Monday morning interview.
The guy at Dry Cleaner’s told me that he won’t be able to deliver before Monday evening as they did not work on weekends. (I think I should show him my EMA assignments - 4 pages, single spaced, 2 points will be deducted per day WEEKENDS INCLUDED ) He told this with frozen face (that I felt like punching at that moment) – no words of apology. Of course, it wasn’t his fault so why should he be sorry for. But I was already in a mess, running late for meeting, and then I heard No’s, so little sensitiveness was expected here. There was nothing he could do now, except that I told him to just iron if not dry-clean and he charged me the same amount.
After I finish my GA work, only reason for me to hang around was that finance lecture on effect of European crisis on US markets. I marked this in calendar to educate myself better, but it turned out to be so intense that I struggled to keep myself awake even for 5 minutes. I ran away from there during Q n A to hit swimming pool.
While the pretty undergrads at sports center scanned my card, I asked them if the pool was open. Hearing yes, I moved to locker room. I didn’t know what was wrong today, all lockers were full and only today I had humongous belongings and struggled to find THREE lockers to fit the shit in. Getting down to just undergarments, starting from layers of clothes on this cold day was quite an effort. As I immersed myself now in pool to let my miseries of the day drown in chlorine water and had barely swum 7 feet when I heard, “Excuse me sir”. A woman told me that pool was not open for common students for another hour. Really? You telling me now after I am wet in damn chlorine from head to toe?
That was all swimming – 30 seconds in pool. Took the pain to put the layers on again and boarded the bus to come home finally. On the door I see the notice that the two bags I had lost in transit from New Delhi to Bloomington have been found and delivered to society office. Earlier in the day, my close buddy had asked for the presents I was supposed to bring for him and I was excited to open the bags and get him his present. So I run to society office - very excited – to see the bags. Society office was closed – “Woodbridge office is closed today for special staff training”. Bite me.
Oh it did not end here. I thought it was that's why I hit the button PUBLISH POST. Later in the night I was very alone, my room mate also had gone to New York. So I decided to go out by myself. After taking shower and dressing up, when I stepped out of apartment, I slipped and fell on my butt. My first reaction was to look around. There were people standing and I was on the slippery ground flat. No one bothered to say or do anything. I was shocked. I pulled my self up went back to apartment, turned of the lights and called it a day.
PS:
I wish I were a dog
Alarm I had set was for pm and not am. For a 9AM meeting with GA supervisor, I got up at 8:45. First thing I did, shot an email to supervisor that I will be in by 9:30. With tooth brush in mouth, I frantically shoved things in microwave. Gathered stuff in my swimming bag hoping that after day ends with Finance lecture, I would conclude the day with nice swim. With water still dripping out my hair after super-fast shower, I gathered suits to drop at drycleaner’s for Monday morning interview.
The guy at Dry Cleaner’s told me that he won’t be able to deliver before Monday evening as they did not work on weekends. (I think I should show him my EMA assignments - 4 pages, single spaced, 2 points will be deducted per day WEEKENDS INCLUDED ) He told this with frozen face (that I felt like punching at that moment) – no words of apology. Of course, it wasn’t his fault so why should he be sorry for. But I was already in a mess, running late for meeting, and then I heard No’s, so little sensitiveness was expected here. There was nothing he could do now, except that I told him to just iron if not dry-clean and he charged me the same amount.
After I finish my GA work, only reason for me to hang around was that finance lecture on effect of European crisis on US markets. I marked this in calendar to educate myself better, but it turned out to be so intense that I struggled to keep myself awake even for 5 minutes. I ran away from there during Q n A to hit swimming pool.
While the pretty undergrads at sports center scanned my card, I asked them if the pool was open. Hearing yes, I moved to locker room. I didn’t know what was wrong today, all lockers were full and only today I had humongous belongings and struggled to find THREE lockers to fit the shit in. Getting down to just undergarments, starting from layers of clothes on this cold day was quite an effort. As I immersed myself now in pool to let my miseries of the day drown in chlorine water and had barely swum 7 feet when I heard, “Excuse me sir”. A woman told me that pool was not open for common students for another hour. Really? You telling me now after I am wet in damn chlorine from head to toe?
That was all swimming – 30 seconds in pool. Took the pain to put the layers on again and boarded the bus to come home finally. On the door I see the notice that the two bags I had lost in transit from New Delhi to Bloomington have been found and delivered to society office. Earlier in the day, my close buddy had asked for the presents I was supposed to bring for him and I was excited to open the bags and get him his present. So I run to society office - very excited – to see the bags. Society office was closed – “Woodbridge office is closed today for special staff training”. Bite me.
Oh it did not end here. I thought it was that's why I hit the button PUBLISH POST. Later in the night I was very alone, my room mate also had gone to New York. So I decided to go out by myself. After taking shower and dressing up, when I stepped out of apartment, I slipped and fell on my butt. My first reaction was to look around. There were people standing and I was on the slippery ground flat. No one bothered to say or do anything. I was shocked. I pulled my self up went back to apartment, turned of the lights and called it a day.
PS:
I wish I were a dog
Thursday, January 19, 2012
For a life that was born not conformist
He has a heart that feels
He has a brain that thinks
There is blood that flows in his veins
There is life in him, and he breathes
How can you ridicule him for
Things he never asked for.
Things he was born with.
Things he can’t change.
He has a brain that thinks
There is blood that flows in his veins
There is life in him, and he breathes
How can you ridicule him for
Things he never asked for.
Things he was born with.
Things he can’t change.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
How can dating translate into love?
Love at first sight? Second sight? Third sight? How these loves happen is beyond me. You have hardly known that person, and you say that you have fell in love with that person?
Similarly, the whole concept of dating culminating into love is something very incomprehensible to me. When you date someone, from the beginning, you have a fixed agenda of sex or date or finding a girl friend or boyfriend in the other person. There is no room for friendship.
Now let’s consider friendship. Imagine a relationship that starts as friendship. You meet this person because you happen to be in same place at same time. No body planned this first meeting. No one set you up with this person. Neither of you two fixed this first meeting. You become friends because circumstance forced you to be together for a common project or team work because you worked in same team at work or because you study in same class at school. Since you two tend to spend lot of time together, you get to know each other very well. You become familiar with every small thing of that person. After this close friendship, what else is left? LOVE? This love happens very unconsciously. You don’t even realize when this one happens. You begin to feel this when she is out of your life for some time. Because you had become addicted to her company and her presence in your life.
Now where in dating or love at different sights you would find this form of love? The love evolved from close friendship is rather purer – it does not even involve looks – good or bad. Who makes friends because of looks? In the dates on the other hand, you tend to pick up only a hot date. You also try to dress real nice and take shower and comb your hair at least that day.
Similarly, the whole concept of dating culminating into love is something very incomprehensible to me. When you date someone, from the beginning, you have a fixed agenda of sex or date or finding a girl friend or boyfriend in the other person. There is no room for friendship.
Now let’s consider friendship. Imagine a relationship that starts as friendship. You meet this person because you happen to be in same place at same time. No body planned this first meeting. No one set you up with this person. Neither of you two fixed this first meeting. You become friends because circumstance forced you to be together for a common project or team work because you worked in same team at work or because you study in same class at school. Since you two tend to spend lot of time together, you get to know each other very well. You become familiar with every small thing of that person. After this close friendship, what else is left? LOVE? This love happens very unconsciously. You don’t even realize when this one happens. You begin to feel this when she is out of your life for some time. Because you had become addicted to her company and her presence in your life.
Now where in dating or love at different sights you would find this form of love? The love evolved from close friendship is rather purer – it does not even involve looks – good or bad. Who makes friends because of looks? In the dates on the other hand, you tend to pick up only a hot date. You also try to dress real nice and take shower and comb your hair at least that day.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Can business school make you less romantic?
All kinds of people would ask you why you came to business school? First, admission officers. When you make it to school, your classmates. Few months later, your career coaches. At a later time, your recruiters. And of course all through your journey, your friends and acquaintances. I too have been asked the same question. And I dislike monotony. I find it tiring to say the same story. There have been times when I would say, “Every one else has been going to b-school, I just wanted to know what the fuss was about?”. That’s an influence of over dose of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Phoebe once kissed Rachel to know what the fuss was about!
Of the many reasons, I had a strong and genuine one too, to come to school. In the films and popular culture, I had seen business folks are more capitalist, less emotional, not very romantic, more problem solving. Didn’t that businessman called Ambani marry his wife for securing capital to expand and establish his business? Didn’t many rulers marry the princess of other kingdoms to expand their empire? A wall street invest banker busting his ass for 11 hours a day – where will he find time to write poetry or think about his love? I wanted to be a business czar. Running an empire. Like God Father’s Michael Corleone. I really expected my heart to turn into stone by studying finance and private equity. So that 10 years later, when I am blowing a cigar and enjoying my scotch in Calvisius Caviar Lounge in Four Seasons, some hot woman would come , sit next to me, run her deep-red-nail-painted finger down my face and say, “You can’t be so cold, you must have a lot hidden in you”. That could have been perfect way to fast forward 10 years without any emotional baggage or romantic hassles in between.
Damn! That did not happen. Why do I just nod along with a class mate when he talks of sales he increased in his job at Toyota Motors before coming to business school, but my eyes brighten up and moist up out of excitement when he narrates me the time during his high school when he killed a summer in Panama or when he made money while polishing boots and landscaping gardens of neighbors? Why I imagine my classmate attending his hens in a pristine farm instead of understanding the strategy he employs in his poultry business? While attending accounting class, I still marvel at the terrific sense of humor of the professor instead of focusing on accounting ratios. Listening to Turkish professor in Finance class, I am teleported to Istanbul and I lose myself in imagining her journey from Istanbul to New York and in filming that professor in my version of Serendipity, instead of estimating the NPV of money I could make after business school, if only I had kept my senses inside the class. Why would I think of Miranda Priestly in marketing class instead of estimating net market share? So what if professor reminds me of her. Many people in the world have similarities. But so what? Why I have to extend those thoughts?
Why did have to fall in inaccessible love…… Again? Why is it so hard to fall in love with money and career and power? Or with objects like Chair or truck, that you can go ahead and buy and keep with you, till you fall out of love. Why am I writing this instead of making CAR statements and getting my suit ready for blowing away the mind of first recruiter tomorrow? Instead of using my once-upon-a-time genius brain to make it big in this land of opportunity called USA, am I turning into Nikolai Gogol, who could not be understood by anyone, and least of all – by himself? Why am I writing like Sarah Jessica Parker, with answer-less questions?
I saw this country, its people, its culture only in cinema. And in books. Now I see those characters live – all around me. Imagine someone who watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S all his life, is suddenly air-dropped in the Central Perk amidst Joe and Monica and others . Why would he not be overwhelmed! But I did not see this ever coming.. I was on my way to become Godfather, while deciding to attend business school.
I should have rather joined defense forces instead of business school to cure the broken heart and wandering mind!
Of the many reasons, I had a strong and genuine one too, to come to school. In the films and popular culture, I had seen business folks are more capitalist, less emotional, not very romantic, more problem solving. Didn’t that businessman called Ambani marry his wife for securing capital to expand and establish his business? Didn’t many rulers marry the princess of other kingdoms to expand their empire? A wall street invest banker busting his ass for 11 hours a day – where will he find time to write poetry or think about his love? I wanted to be a business czar. Running an empire. Like God Father’s Michael Corleone. I really expected my heart to turn into stone by studying finance and private equity. So that 10 years later, when I am blowing a cigar and enjoying my scotch in Calvisius Caviar Lounge in Four Seasons, some hot woman would come , sit next to me, run her deep-red-nail-painted finger down my face and say, “You can’t be so cold, you must have a lot hidden in you”. That could have been perfect way to fast forward 10 years without any emotional baggage or romantic hassles in between.
Damn! That did not happen. Why do I just nod along with a class mate when he talks of sales he increased in his job at Toyota Motors before coming to business school, but my eyes brighten up and moist up out of excitement when he narrates me the time during his high school when he killed a summer in Panama or when he made money while polishing boots and landscaping gardens of neighbors? Why I imagine my classmate attending his hens in a pristine farm instead of understanding the strategy he employs in his poultry business? While attending accounting class, I still marvel at the terrific sense of humor of the professor instead of focusing on accounting ratios. Listening to Turkish professor in Finance class, I am teleported to Istanbul and I lose myself in imagining her journey from Istanbul to New York and in filming that professor in my version of Serendipity, instead of estimating the NPV of money I could make after business school, if only I had kept my senses inside the class. Why would I think of Miranda Priestly in marketing class instead of estimating net market share? So what if professor reminds me of her. Many people in the world have similarities. But so what? Why I have to extend those thoughts?
Why did have to fall in inaccessible love…… Again? Why is it so hard to fall in love with money and career and power? Or with objects like Chair or truck, that you can go ahead and buy and keep with you, till you fall out of love. Why am I writing this instead of making CAR statements and getting my suit ready for blowing away the mind of first recruiter tomorrow? Instead of using my once-upon-a-time genius brain to make it big in this land of opportunity called USA, am I turning into Nikolai Gogol, who could not be understood by anyone, and least of all – by himself? Why am I writing like Sarah Jessica Parker, with answer-less questions?
I saw this country, its people, its culture only in cinema. And in books. Now I see those characters live – all around me. Imagine someone who watched F.R.I.E.N.D.S all his life, is suddenly air-dropped in the Central Perk amidst Joe and Monica and others . Why would he not be overwhelmed! But I did not see this ever coming.. I was on my way to become Godfather, while deciding to attend business school.
I should have rather joined defense forces instead of business school to cure the broken heart and wandering mind!
Wednesday, January 04, 2012
Temporary liberation through unplugging
This winter break was rather a very short one. Probably little over two weeks. But like my buddy’s time at home on thanksgiving, my time was non-stop. I was always onto something – meet family X, call person Y and catch up with friend Z, purchase B, get done the task C. If not anything, spend time on Facebook and emails and watching movies. Not that I disliked any of these (well … some of them), I wouldn’t have done these in that case. But I never got time to think. I never got time to spend with myself. Even though I love being with people I love and I keep on saying that I am not a big fan of my own company, but now I realize how much I can be happy and creative and productive, when I am left alone! Alone also means no internet either – just me and my solitude.
What do I do when I need that time and space to think? Head to mountains! I didn’t have the luxury of time to go to Himalayas. Plus that would have taken long travel time and my own company would have haunted me then. I decided to visit my uncle ji in Dehradun – not Himalayas , but their foot hills! 12 hours of comfortable to-and-fro train journey and 4 hours of company of a wonderful friend Fakru and my uncle ji.
Considering the non-stop days of break so far, I felt liberated in this journey. In fact I am in the process of liberation right now, as I write this aboard Delhi-Dehradun Shatabdi. 5 months of stay in US has given me some identity crisis which I had felt strongly many times in last two weeks in Delhi. Listening to Swades song and jogging, I would hardly feel that dramatic overwhelming sensation. I never was anyway big fan of Indian cities.
Now, sitting by the huge window of train, sipping the lovely scenery outside, I am feeling connected back to my interpretation of India. Passengers of non-Shatabdi train moving parallel to us, marveling at me and my train. I used to be them few years back. The multi-lingual boards of stations reading Deoband in Urdu, English and Hindi. The bundled up people on unsheltered platform.. slowly waking up to the morning after their last night’s slumber under cold winter sky. The raw unaltered natural beauty of Indian greens. I am writing, scripting, directing and producing my own film. And watching it too. And all this Just in Time! I can chose not to write whatever is not adding to the aesthetics of this lovely journey. I am changing the script the way I want. Soundtrack is of my choice. Well I am only listening to Discovery of India for last 2 hours. Through this song, a woman called India, is waking up from sleep and giving out a call to return to Country. And the film non-cyclical. Every scene , every station , every crop field is new. I am sipping the fog covered forests and rivers and fields. Actually, that crazy song peelun peelun, might actually fit more here. I am enjoying every sip of this experience. I noticed that I was smiling all this while. Non-stop!
Fog is not ready to disappear. No matter how much I get away from Delhi, fog is walking with me. Like I did not see sunrise when I was going to Chicago from Delhi for the first time. Every time I opened the window, I would see darkness flying with me.
There were some new and interesting things inside the train too! Train is much more spacious and cleaner. There were sliding doors. There was toilet paper in restroom! When I took my seat, I was thirsty. I wish I could ring a bell like in flight and request for water. What’s the harm in having an airhostess or air-host in a train! There were transparent overhead cabins for placing luggage. You can always look up and reassure yourself that your bag is there. I didn’t use that though , because I needed to dig my bag often and didn’t want bug my co-passenger. But this looked fancy, probably planes may also consider having them. I never saw waiter in train asking for tip. Tip in Shatabdi—holy shit! It’s like a moving restaurant!!! Am I friggin travelin in Palace on Wheels!! And I actually ended up tossin a 10! Well I was pleased with his service too. Plus I wanted to know what it would feel like if I do that in a train!
Now folks inside train. I was intrigued by my ability to establish an unspoken and unexpressed relationship with co-passengers. I just met them.. well not even met them, hardly spoke a word with them, except when I needed to get out and pee and I would request co-passenger in hardly audible words, but mostly through gestures to move and let me out. In spite of this absence of any dialogue or sharing of anything, I felt my decisions and actions and thoughts were influenced by them - when I would make choice of vegetarian or non-vegetarian food, when I would make choice of newspaper and when I am writing all this. Not that influence was very heavy and factor in them before making any choice or doing some action, but they do enter in my head, albeit briefly. I try to assess their background, occupation. Which I don’t want to. But probably one does tend to think. Even when one sees a leaf or an apple. At the same time, there is lot of indifference too. I can write my journal entries without feeling conscious or concerns about privacy intrusion. And would otherwise keep my personal diaries deeply and strictly guarded.
And did I mention the computerized-digital-waitlist-reservation-display on the platform?
What do I do when I need that time and space to think? Head to mountains! I didn’t have the luxury of time to go to Himalayas. Plus that would have taken long travel time and my own company would have haunted me then. I decided to visit my uncle ji in Dehradun – not Himalayas , but their foot hills! 12 hours of comfortable to-and-fro train journey and 4 hours of company of a wonderful friend Fakru and my uncle ji.
Considering the non-stop days of break so far, I felt liberated in this journey. In fact I am in the process of liberation right now, as I write this aboard Delhi-Dehradun Shatabdi. 5 months of stay in US has given me some identity crisis which I had felt strongly many times in last two weeks in Delhi. Listening to Swades song and jogging, I would hardly feel that dramatic overwhelming sensation. I never was anyway big fan of Indian cities.
Now, sitting by the huge window of train, sipping the lovely scenery outside, I am feeling connected back to my interpretation of India. Passengers of non-Shatabdi train moving parallel to us, marveling at me and my train. I used to be them few years back. The multi-lingual boards of stations reading Deoband in Urdu, English and Hindi. The bundled up people on unsheltered platform.. slowly waking up to the morning after their last night’s slumber under cold winter sky. The raw unaltered natural beauty of Indian greens. I am writing, scripting, directing and producing my own film. And watching it too. And all this Just in Time! I can chose not to write whatever is not adding to the aesthetics of this lovely journey. I am changing the script the way I want. Soundtrack is of my choice. Well I am only listening to Discovery of India for last 2 hours. Through this song, a woman called India, is waking up from sleep and giving out a call to return to Country. And the film non-cyclical. Every scene , every station , every crop field is new. I am sipping the fog covered forests and rivers and fields. Actually, that crazy song peelun peelun, might actually fit more here. I am enjoying every sip of this experience. I noticed that I was smiling all this while. Non-stop!
Fog is not ready to disappear. No matter how much I get away from Delhi, fog is walking with me. Like I did not see sunrise when I was going to Chicago from Delhi for the first time. Every time I opened the window, I would see darkness flying with me.
There were some new and interesting things inside the train too! Train is much more spacious and cleaner. There were sliding doors. There was toilet paper in restroom! When I took my seat, I was thirsty. I wish I could ring a bell like in flight and request for water. What’s the harm in having an airhostess or air-host in a train! There were transparent overhead cabins for placing luggage. You can always look up and reassure yourself that your bag is there. I didn’t use that though , because I needed to dig my bag often and didn’t want bug my co-passenger. But this looked fancy, probably planes may also consider having them. I never saw waiter in train asking for tip. Tip in Shatabdi—holy shit! It’s like a moving restaurant!!! Am I friggin travelin in Palace on Wheels!! And I actually ended up tossin a 10! Well I was pleased with his service too. Plus I wanted to know what it would feel like if I do that in a train!
Now folks inside train. I was intrigued by my ability to establish an unspoken and unexpressed relationship with co-passengers. I just met them.. well not even met them, hardly spoke a word with them, except when I needed to get out and pee and I would request co-passenger in hardly audible words, but mostly through gestures to move and let me out. In spite of this absence of any dialogue or sharing of anything, I felt my decisions and actions and thoughts were influenced by them - when I would make choice of vegetarian or non-vegetarian food, when I would make choice of newspaper and when I am writing all this. Not that influence was very heavy and factor in them before making any choice or doing some action, but they do enter in my head, albeit briefly. I try to assess their background, occupation. Which I don’t want to. But probably one does tend to think. Even when one sees a leaf or an apple. At the same time, there is lot of indifference too. I can write my journal entries without feeling conscious or concerns about privacy intrusion. And would otherwise keep my personal diaries deeply and strictly guarded.
And did I mention the computerized-digital-waitlist-reservation-display on the platform?
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Will India produce something as original, as proud and as ever-relevant as Kamasutra again?
Today Economic Times released the list of best business schools in India and they called the list “India’s Ivy League”. Media refers to even an ancient Indian ruler as India’s Alexander. When a film on homosexuality is made here, they call it India’s answer to Broke-back Mountain. We make North Eye in Noida to present to the world India’s London Eye! Today, while writing about IIM Ahmadabad, they mentioned in the pros of the 50 year old school that its curriculum is modeled on Harvard Business School.
After 50 years, IIMA’s syllabus is still based on HBS, and we are proud of that? And we are counting that as a reason for placing IIMA on the top of ‘India’s Ivy League’? And why can they just not be India’s premier schools, why Ivy League? After so many years, can English literature grads serving as editors and journalists think of nothing but Ivy Leagues to convey the meaning of elitist schools? Are their creativity and vocabulary so limited? Even after 60 years of independence, do media and India’s crappy journalists want us to continue giving answers to the West’s people, buildings, institutes etc.?
When we talk of India’s glory, we often talk of ZERO that Aryabhatt discovered. But what after that? No, we are better off sitting on our historical achievements.
When exactly shall we make original things again and call them original too instead of India’s answer to America or Japan or France?
I strongly believe that one thing that was discovered in the past and is still relevant is Kamasutra. Countries around the world try and answer us. Hungarian Kamasutra. Japan’s answer to Kamasutra. Swedish Kamasutra.
When will make another such relevant achievement so that news papers get something better to write?
Well till then, Hail Kamasutra.
After 50 years, IIMA’s syllabus is still based on HBS, and we are proud of that? And we are counting that as a reason for placing IIMA on the top of ‘India’s Ivy League’? And why can they just not be India’s premier schools, why Ivy League? After so many years, can English literature grads serving as editors and journalists think of nothing but Ivy Leagues to convey the meaning of elitist schools? Are their creativity and vocabulary so limited? Even after 60 years of independence, do media and India’s crappy journalists want us to continue giving answers to the West’s people, buildings, institutes etc.?
When we talk of India’s glory, we often talk of ZERO that Aryabhatt discovered. But what after that? No, we are better off sitting on our historical achievements.
When exactly shall we make original things again and call them original too instead of India’s answer to America or Japan or France?
I strongly believe that one thing that was discovered in the past and is still relevant is Kamasutra. Countries around the world try and answer us. Hungarian Kamasutra. Japan’s answer to Kamasutra. Swedish Kamasutra.
When will make another such relevant achievement so that news papers get something better to write?
Well till then, Hail Kamasutra.
Sunday, August 08, 2010
English - necessity? convenience? lifestyle?
Ever since I returned from villages, I am trying to get out of a cultural shock. One of them is finding everyone speaking in English wherever I go. Last weekend when I went to Kamani Auditorium for this concert of Raja Radha Reddy, there too I noted that almost everyone spoke English only. This reminded me that last time when I was at Kamani to attend Kucchipudi concert organized by Indian Government. The compere spoke in English, all the guests and ministers addressed the people in English. Question is WHY ENGLISH? I am not one of those self-appointed preservers of Indian culture who propose that anything ‘non-Indian’ including English language should be done away with. But I do question the use of this language to communicate when there’s no absolute need. For example, at Kamani, consider any two girls or for that matter, any two people. You will find them chattering in English. Did they not know Hindi? I doubt. Did they find that more convenient? This could be a possible reason for them to speak, because other possible reason could be pretense or attempts to impress. But these other reasons can’t explain this behavior of so many people. Only a few could be pretentious or were in the process of impressing someone. That brings us to the first possibility. What made it inconvenient for people to speak the language that so many people around them spoke while they grew up? If some Indian grew up outside India, it is understandable. Again, not all those people who come to Kamani grow up in Singapore or US or UK. Is it the upbringing itself? I see a clue here. In many families residing in India, English is the common medium of communication even at home. Kids are talked to by teachers and parents in English. Siblings speak with each other in English. Kids talk to each other in school and outside in English. That can certainly make it inconvenient for such children to speak a language other than English when they grow up.
While discussing the dilemma with this female from UNHCR, she narrated the incident of a 5 year old kid asking her to open a tap in a restaurant because, "I can't reach the tap you see I am small". In fact I also had mentioned in a very old post that I had observed few years back in Bangalore, kids learning Hindustani classical music with सा as Sa and रे as Re!
Further questions can be raised now. What is the need to create this atmosphere of English language around a growing child? If this continues, this will have a ripple effect or chain effect, the new set of parents that will take birth in few years, will find it completely natural to see English being spoken everywhere. It will no more be need based. In fact I guess, already there must be many families, that have this cultural setup at home and outside homes with natural ease. Result ? The Indian languages will be phased out from chains of such families. Of course that will never lead to dying of Indian languages, particularly the popular ones, because such families constitute very small percentage of humanity. 70% Indian residents still reside in villages and speak the different variants of those popular languages. Even in cities and towns majority of people speaks Indian languages.
In that case, this growing proliferation of English, spacing out Hindi and other languages from those families should not be a concern, RIGHT? I have one concern though. Many people in our country who matter, who decide the policies for the rest of the country perhaps belong to such families?
By the way, Shree mentioned that Madhuri Dixit was the last Indian actress to speak Hindi with correct diction and grammar. Should it matter if most popular cinema doesn’t use the most commonly spoken language correctly? Well no. Because most common people anyway do not relate to such ‘popular cinema’. Or do they?
While discussing the dilemma with this female from UNHCR, she narrated the incident of a 5 year old kid asking her to open a tap in a restaurant because, "I can't reach the tap you see I am small". In fact I also had mentioned in a very old post that I had observed few years back in Bangalore, kids learning Hindustani classical music with सा as Sa and रे as Re!
Further questions can be raised now. What is the need to create this atmosphere of English language around a growing child? If this continues, this will have a ripple effect or chain effect, the new set of parents that will take birth in few years, will find it completely natural to see English being spoken everywhere. It will no more be need based. In fact I guess, already there must be many families, that have this cultural setup at home and outside homes with natural ease. Result ? The Indian languages will be phased out from chains of such families. Of course that will never lead to dying of Indian languages, particularly the popular ones, because such families constitute very small percentage of humanity. 70% Indian residents still reside in villages and speak the different variants of those popular languages. Even in cities and towns majority of people speaks Indian languages.
In that case, this growing proliferation of English, spacing out Hindi and other languages from those families should not be a concern, RIGHT? I have one concern though. Many people in our country who matter, who decide the policies for the rest of the country perhaps belong to such families?
By the way, Shree mentioned that Madhuri Dixit was the last Indian actress to speak Hindi with correct diction and grammar. Should it matter if most popular cinema doesn’t use the most commonly spoken language correctly? Well no. Because most common people anyway do not relate to such ‘popular cinema’. Or do they?
Monday, July 26, 2010
Meet the parents!
When ‘they’ came!
I was told the previous night that someone was coming to ‘see’ me. That’s what we call it in India when we are arranging a meeting for fixing up a marital alliance. Everybody knew that it’s too early for me to even think of it, and that I had no plans for marriage right now. So, I asked my parents why were my ‘prospective in-laws’ visiting us in the first place when it wasn’t gonna lead to anything. I was then promised that it would be nothing but a Sunday brunch with random relatives.
Next morning, when they arrived, I was taking shower. As I came out of shower, I heard my parents singing out eulogies for me. Holy crap! My feet were too frozen to go downstairs and enter the room amidst the eulogy session and do a ‘meet the parents’ there! I called up a friend to tell him I was feeling shy and scared by the heavy weight of the sights of everyone around me in next few minutes. He told me to relax and better concentrate on recipe of Samosa, so that I can narrate it when people do not believe that I prepared them, which of course I hadn’t.
For the ease of writing, the prospective in-laws will be called Mr and Mrs. Mr asked me the break up of my salary. I literally had no clue. Every month when salary arrives in my salary account, I silently transfer a fixed amount in my dad’s account, pay my credit card, mobile and other bills and have a look at the amount left, to decide how I am gonna live in the coming month! So I could not divulge details on this question of Mr, which seemed to have left him in some doubts. Mrs asked me if I wanted the girl to work after marriage or stay at home. What the hell was I gonna say to that.. I simply told them that I had’t even thought of any of this, there was nothing I could comment. But my SBMA blood was boiling now after being a part of gender activities in garhwal! so I did probe them why they want me to decide what she wanted to do after marriage. They were so typical. They repeated the exact same thing what my parents had said to the other party in such meetings when we were looking for alliance for my sister, ‘हमने तो कह दिया है बेटी से , अभी घर में रह, बाद में ससुराल में जाके कर लेना जो करना है , as if in sasural, she will have her will!
In fact at this point, this struck me for the first time that if I end up marrying into such a family, I will be having two set of similar parents, & families both of which will be of thinking wavelength different from mine. Handling one itself is taxing, what I am gonna do against the power of two! I am sure that any alliance through my parents will present this power of two. So I gotta find someone before I get overpowered by the power of two.
I forgot to mention the eulogy that was harped in my presence. “Our son has no bad qualities - doesn’t drink , doesn’t smoke, doesn’t eat non-veg.” None of which was true! I noticed that this has been happening ever since I could remember. Is it that my parents did not know that I do all these, or that it’s a formal ritual to make this statement in such meetings? I remember hearing about a guy in Kumaon who could not get married after 35 because of his honesty which made him mention in every meeting that he drank.
What are these arrange marriages, if they begin with hiding things? How come a sea of humanity believes and respects this kind of institution when majority of these marriages begin like this? It seems to be a done thing, an unwritten rule. I discussed with some married couples and they told that of course no one affirms when asked such questions as ‘do you drink’, ‘do you dope’, this is how it works always.
Towards the end, the most embarrassing thing happened. I thought I would not need to blush or anything. But how could this be complete without that. My parents asked me in front Mr and Mrs when we should go to see the girl. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I thought it was just a brunch, I could digest the questions of marital enquiries, but ‘meet the girl’? I gave the best blush possible. Mr and Mrs told me not feel shy, and that I could visit them anytime, and that I could meet her in Maaaaalll also. I had blushed enough now, did not know what to do next because don’t-feel-shy commandments were being issued from all directions now!
At this critical point, I was saved by a phone call, which we all knew must be from didi. I ran before my dad could pick the receiver and thanked her for calling, which I never do otherwise! I spent as much time on call as I could as against usually telling her in 5 mins that I was hanging up. As I finished with the call hoping that festival downstairs must be over by now, my parents and other parents came upstairs in my room to see the rest of the house. Anyways, they left soon expecting that we would visit them in the evening to see the girl, which my parents were eagerly looking forward to.
It’s intereting for me to now that for the first time, I kinda felt empowered. I kinda feel that I am now in a position when people will wait for my decision, although everyone comes into this position at least once, so it’s not really a big deal. But it was my first time. Was it because I am an Indian male or that now I am of marriageable age?
After they left, mummy asked me ‘क्या करना है ’?
‘what do you mean क्या करना है , it was only for formality, we were all clear that nothing will happen out of it’
My dad added, ‘क्या पता पसंद आ जाए तो कर भी लें’.
By now a filter was already plugged in my head to ignore the talks around and enjoy my soap ‘how I met your mother’
I was told the previous night that someone was coming to ‘see’ me. That’s what we call it in India when we are arranging a meeting for fixing up a marital alliance. Everybody knew that it’s too early for me to even think of it, and that I had no plans for marriage right now. So, I asked my parents why were my ‘prospective in-laws’ visiting us in the first place when it wasn’t gonna lead to anything. I was then promised that it would be nothing but a Sunday brunch with random relatives.
Next morning, when they arrived, I was taking shower. As I came out of shower, I heard my parents singing out eulogies for me. Holy crap! My feet were too frozen to go downstairs and enter the room amidst the eulogy session and do a ‘meet the parents’ there! I called up a friend to tell him I was feeling shy and scared by the heavy weight of the sights of everyone around me in next few minutes. He told me to relax and better concentrate on recipe of Samosa, so that I can narrate it when people do not believe that I prepared them, which of course I hadn’t.
For the ease of writing, the prospective in-laws will be called Mr and Mrs. Mr asked me the break up of my salary. I literally had no clue. Every month when salary arrives in my salary account, I silently transfer a fixed amount in my dad’s account, pay my credit card, mobile and other bills and have a look at the amount left, to decide how I am gonna live in the coming month! So I could not divulge details on this question of Mr, which seemed to have left him in some doubts. Mrs asked me if I wanted the girl to work after marriage or stay at home. What the hell was I gonna say to that.. I simply told them that I had’t even thought of any of this, there was nothing I could comment. But my SBMA blood was boiling now after being a part of gender activities in garhwal! so I did probe them why they want me to decide what she wanted to do after marriage. They were so typical. They repeated the exact same thing what my parents had said to the other party in such meetings when we were looking for alliance for my sister, ‘हमने तो कह दिया है बेटी से , अभी घर में रह, बाद में ससुराल में जाके कर लेना जो करना है , as if in sasural, she will have her will!
In fact at this point, this struck me for the first time that if I end up marrying into such a family, I will be having two set of similar parents, & families both of which will be of thinking wavelength different from mine. Handling one itself is taxing, what I am gonna do against the power of two! I am sure that any alliance through my parents will present this power of two. So I gotta find someone before I get overpowered by the power of two.
I forgot to mention the eulogy that was harped in my presence. “Our son has no bad qualities - doesn’t drink , doesn’t smoke, doesn’t eat non-veg.” None of which was true! I noticed that this has been happening ever since I could remember. Is it that my parents did not know that I do all these, or that it’s a formal ritual to make this statement in such meetings? I remember hearing about a guy in Kumaon who could not get married after 35 because of his honesty which made him mention in every meeting that he drank.
What are these arrange marriages, if they begin with hiding things? How come a sea of humanity believes and respects this kind of institution when majority of these marriages begin like this? It seems to be a done thing, an unwritten rule. I discussed with some married couples and they told that of course no one affirms when asked such questions as ‘do you drink’, ‘do you dope’, this is how it works always.
Towards the end, the most embarrassing thing happened. I thought I would not need to blush or anything. But how could this be complete without that. My parents asked me in front Mr and Mrs when we should go to see the girl. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I thought it was just a brunch, I could digest the questions of marital enquiries, but ‘meet the girl’? I gave the best blush possible. Mr and Mrs told me not feel shy, and that I could visit them anytime, and that I could meet her in Maaaaalll also. I had blushed enough now, did not know what to do next because don’t-feel-shy commandments were being issued from all directions now!
At this critical point, I was saved by a phone call, which we all knew must be from didi. I ran before my dad could pick the receiver and thanked her for calling, which I never do otherwise! I spent as much time on call as I could as against usually telling her in 5 mins that I was hanging up. As I finished with the call hoping that festival downstairs must be over by now, my parents and other parents came upstairs in my room to see the rest of the house. Anyways, they left soon expecting that we would visit them in the evening to see the girl, which my parents were eagerly looking forward to.
It’s intereting for me to now that for the first time, I kinda felt empowered. I kinda feel that I am now in a position when people will wait for my decision, although everyone comes into this position at least once, so it’s not really a big deal. But it was my first time. Was it because I am an Indian male or that now I am of marriageable age?
After they left, mummy asked me ‘क्या करना है ’?
‘what do you mean क्या करना है , it was only for formality, we were all clear that nothing will happen out of it’
My dad added, ‘क्या पता पसंद आ जाए तो कर भी लें’.
By now a filter was already plugged in my head to ignore the talks around and enjoy my soap ‘how I met your mother’
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Why should New Delhi mean just NDMC supervised area?
My mom came to Delhi as a young bride from a small village in Haryana about 40 years ago. After all these years later, now she hears about Common Wealth Games being hosted by Delhi in 2010. Yesterday evening, she reflected, "यह खेल कनाट प्लेस में हो रहे होंगे ". (I think that these games will be held in Connaught place)
WHY? This woman spent over 40 years of her life in this city, voted for different governments, paid taxes for everything she consumed. Yet the places she lived in are never considered to be 'Delhi'?
I hear about Bed and Breakfast scheme of Delhi Tourism. I hear about 'Shera', the mascot of the games touring Delhi. I hear of baton of Common Wealth Games doing rounds in different parts of Delhi. I hear and see these things only through news papers and televisions. Why can't I see them with my eyes in real, without going at least 15 kilometres to see the celebration?
When will the places like Uttam Nagar, Sagar Pur, Raghu Nagar, or for that matter, all places on the left side of the wide sewage drain that separates Janak Puri area from the 'others' be counted in DELHI?
Or will Delhi always mean CP, 'DefCol', GK, Rohini, DU etc?
WHY? This woman spent over 40 years of her life in this city, voted for different governments, paid taxes for everything she consumed. Yet the places she lived in are never considered to be 'Delhi'?
I hear about Bed and Breakfast scheme of Delhi Tourism. I hear about 'Shera', the mascot of the games touring Delhi. I hear of baton of Common Wealth Games doing rounds in different parts of Delhi. I hear and see these things only through news papers and televisions. Why can't I see them with my eyes in real, without going at least 15 kilometres to see the celebration?
When will the places like Uttam Nagar, Sagar Pur, Raghu Nagar, or for that matter, all places on the left side of the wide sewage drain that separates Janak Puri area from the 'others' be counted in DELHI?
Or will Delhi always mean CP, 'DefCol', GK, Rohini, DU etc?
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Rajneeti
Rajniti
My first film after I returned to ‘world’. Actually this is the first film I watched in theatre after more than a year. So my negative feedback could have been more had I been regular to theatre. But I was in cinema after like ages, so I was enjoying the sounds and big screen. In fact , I was imagining how my first film will look like on this screen. I wish I could screen my Swades Ki Khoj in that auditorium. I was just wondering how different scenes and different sounds in the film will appear.
So here it is. Photography, no doubt, is awesome. The blast scene in which Prithvi & Sara die is shot with awesome seriousness which the scene deserved. There is one thing that I carry back with me on my way to home from theatre. In this case, it was the song, ‘more piya’. I am sure I am gonna hum it for quite some time now. Another awesome thing is Katrina Kaif. I loved her with that deep red bindi. How beautiful can a woman with no make up and just one bindi! In all the ethnic wear, she showed a side of her beauty which I was unfamiliar with for so long.
BUT. Yes there’s BUT. The film had way too much violence. It brought so much of hopelessness. Agreed, all those dirty games take place in politics, but not in a span of 2.5 hours. Indira Gandhi & Rajeev Gandhi and many other Gandhis did not die in hours of each other’s assassination. So at one point, it all looked unconvincing. I felt like now any one could kill anyone at any point. I was expecting every single character in the film to die in the next shot! How could Sara or Katrina not be kidnapped & raped in the revenge game. How could Bharti & Sara move around openly in the New market in a time, which to me appeared, no less than a curfew. The scene with Bharti & Ajay in the end sounded so much artificial & farce because of the Mahabharat analogy they were trying to bring. The resemblance was uncanny.
Worst part, after playing in so much of dirt, Samar or Ranbeer Kapoor did not show a sign of remorse or guilt in the last scenes.
Anyways.
My first film after I returned to ‘world’. Actually this is the first film I watched in theatre after more than a year. So my negative feedback could have been more had I been regular to theatre. But I was in cinema after like ages, so I was enjoying the sounds and big screen. In fact , I was imagining how my first film will look like on this screen. I wish I could screen my Swades Ki Khoj in that auditorium. I was just wondering how different scenes and different sounds in the film will appear.
So here it is. Photography, no doubt, is awesome. The blast scene in which Prithvi & Sara die is shot with awesome seriousness which the scene deserved. There is one thing that I carry back with me on my way to home from theatre. In this case, it was the song, ‘more piya’. I am sure I am gonna hum it for quite some time now. Another awesome thing is Katrina Kaif. I loved her with that deep red bindi. How beautiful can a woman with no make up and just one bindi! In all the ethnic wear, she showed a side of her beauty which I was unfamiliar with for so long.
BUT. Yes there’s BUT. The film had way too much violence. It brought so much of hopelessness. Agreed, all those dirty games take place in politics, but not in a span of 2.5 hours. Indira Gandhi & Rajeev Gandhi and many other Gandhis did not die in hours of each other’s assassination. So at one point, it all looked unconvincing. I felt like now any one could kill anyone at any point. I was expecting every single character in the film to die in the next shot! How could Sara or Katrina not be kidnapped & raped in the revenge game. How could Bharti & Sara move around openly in the New market in a time, which to me appeared, no less than a curfew. The scene with Bharti & Ajay in the end sounded so much artificial & farce because of the Mahabharat analogy they were trying to bring. The resemblance was uncanny.
Worst part, after playing in so much of dirt, Samar or Ranbeer Kapoor did not show a sign of remorse or guilt in the last scenes.
Anyways.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Badrinath
Finally I made this journey. Actually, ‘finally’ is not an appropriate word to use here. It wasn’t something I was looking so much forward to. After staying in hills for almost a year and travelling by road under the sedative effect of mountain sickness tablets, I do not feel keen for any road trip unless it is bike or the destination promises some wonder of the world.
My parents came here with the expectation that I am one of those good sons (read श्रवण कुमार) who considers it his most important duty of life to take his parents to the pilgrimage spots of the world. So they came here to see चार धाम of Uttarakhand in a span of 10 days. They forgot their age and weight and the fact that the roads to these 4 places are not straight but serpentine ones, and most importantly the fact that I am not one of those good sons! I felt bad to disappoint them. But I took them to Badrinath – one of the 4 sacred places for Hindus.
In the temple, we had do the दर्शन which I wasn’t so much interested in, but my mom was, in fact most interested in! My parents wanted a quick peek at the God’s statues. I never wanted to be part of that dirty game of shortcut to god, but looking at their old weak legs and their insistence I had to pull some strings. I detested every single second of that time from the moment I started making arrangements for back door entry to main temple to the time we were out. The main queue outside the temple consisted of the common people, who either had no extra money or power for back door entry or no intention to catch a glimpse of god through these ways.
I entered through the other door. Here I saw a secondary queue. It was quite visible that these people knew the power of money. I felt a storm of questions in my head to justify or reject my presence in that area. The people here were a mixed lot – south Indians-north Indians, east Indians-west Indians, white Indians-black Indians, young Indians-old Indians – in short all Indians. They all had many similarities. They made every possible attempt to gain a spot inside the temple that can offer the closest and most direct view of the deity. My mom was shouting to inform me that she had obtained one such spot and that I should come to her to seek ‘direct’ blessings of the god. Now I shouted back through eyes and signals to tell her to close her eyes and fold her hands and try to see Lord Badri inside her heart if she could. In fact, people did not mind trampling others in the process. Every body was trying to ensure that his/her family should get those direct blessings, let the rest of the world die! I felt quite surprised to see this at the most revered place in the world for Hindus. I could not understand that now, that they are so close to that thing which they call ‘God’, why don’t they close their eyes while standing at any place in the premises of temple, and try to feel the God’s presence. Forget Hindus, forget Indians, forget family etc. Does not a man’s worshiping god mean to achieve God, to establish a dialogue with God, to be one with God? I did not see this in even one person. Priests were giving the blessing – ‘your business should flourish’, ‘your family should stay happy’, ‘you should have joy and prosperity’, ‘you will get money’, ‘you should get good health’. I did not hear any one saying – ‘may your heart fills with kindness and love and forgiveness for all beings’, ‘may you feel oneness with the world and the God’, ‘May you get rid of all such things as greed or anger or laziness’. People’s desires and priests’ blessings were all so narrow and focused to the family of person, that even at Badrinath, there’s no one to guide people the way Kabir, or Meera, or Mother Teresa did through their lives. What sort of भक्ति is this that is devoid of ममता, प्रेम, and स्नेह? Various Hindi news papers call these people श्रध्हालू and तीर्थ यात्री and describe all this as if this is some journey to heaven. But when people are pushing each other, shouting at each other, there’s no love or kindness and without these, can there be a prayer?
The only people who I thought were doing real worship here, were a couple of young men who were distributing free coffee and sweets in the cold night to any one who would pass by. Off late, I find no better way of praying than serving. And now all those ‘pilgrims’ who were enjoying this free coffee were littering around with the coffee cups. All the way on National Highway to Badrinath, I found every one throwing plastic and trash so mercilessly on road that I was wondering what पुण्य are these people going to earn at Badrinath when they spoil the mother earth this way. Every throw of plastic would give a severe blow to heart and somehow I managed to control myself. What right these people from rest of India have to come to hills and spoil the place and begin the process of converting the place into a trash bag that are coming from? All these rich and powerful people wearing Armani shades, are they not cultured enough to have the least civil sense?
I have this curiosity now that why temples have a deity in a closed and badly spaced room. I suggest that we erect a single huge statue of god placed at a height or in a large space and statue be placed in an open space protected by barricades. No one should be allowed to come close anywhere in the 5 kms radius of the statue. Statue should be so huge that it is visible from distance. This way, there will be no secondary queues for close glimpse of God. Anyone will be able to see it. Then give the challenge to people to now feel God from wherever they are standing and viewing the God.
Having said all this, I am glad that I could do one thing that did not displease my parents but made them immensely happy. When my mom told that she forgot all her tiredness or cold or hunger when she finally saw the statues with closest proximity and when the priest placed his hand on her head while blessing, I said to myself, ‘fine yaar, you got your god, I am yet to find mine, I hope I do this sometime’
My parents came here with the expectation that I am one of those good sons (read श्रवण कुमार) who considers it his most important duty of life to take his parents to the pilgrimage spots of the world. So they came here to see चार धाम of Uttarakhand in a span of 10 days. They forgot their age and weight and the fact that the roads to these 4 places are not straight but serpentine ones, and most importantly the fact that I am not one of those good sons! I felt bad to disappoint them. But I took them to Badrinath – one of the 4 sacred places for Hindus.
In the temple, we had do the दर्शन which I wasn’t so much interested in, but my mom was, in fact most interested in! My parents wanted a quick peek at the God’s statues. I never wanted to be part of that dirty game of shortcut to god, but looking at their old weak legs and their insistence I had to pull some strings. I detested every single second of that time from the moment I started making arrangements for back door entry to main temple to the time we were out. The main queue outside the temple consisted of the common people, who either had no extra money or power for back door entry or no intention to catch a glimpse of god through these ways.
I entered through the other door. Here I saw a secondary queue. It was quite visible that these people knew the power of money. I felt a storm of questions in my head to justify or reject my presence in that area. The people here were a mixed lot – south Indians-north Indians, east Indians-west Indians, white Indians-black Indians, young Indians-old Indians – in short all Indians. They all had many similarities. They made every possible attempt to gain a spot inside the temple that can offer the closest and most direct view of the deity. My mom was shouting to inform me that she had obtained one such spot and that I should come to her to seek ‘direct’ blessings of the god. Now I shouted back through eyes and signals to tell her to close her eyes and fold her hands and try to see Lord Badri inside her heart if she could. In fact, people did not mind trampling others in the process. Every body was trying to ensure that his/her family should get those direct blessings, let the rest of the world die! I felt quite surprised to see this at the most revered place in the world for Hindus. I could not understand that now, that they are so close to that thing which they call ‘God’, why don’t they close their eyes while standing at any place in the premises of temple, and try to feel the God’s presence. Forget Hindus, forget Indians, forget family etc. Does not a man’s worshiping god mean to achieve God, to establish a dialogue with God, to be one with God? I did not see this in even one person. Priests were giving the blessing – ‘your business should flourish’, ‘your family should stay happy’, ‘you should have joy and prosperity’, ‘you will get money’, ‘you should get good health’. I did not hear any one saying – ‘may your heart fills with kindness and love and forgiveness for all beings’, ‘may you feel oneness with the world and the God’, ‘May you get rid of all such things as greed or anger or laziness’. People’s desires and priests’ blessings were all so narrow and focused to the family of person, that even at Badrinath, there’s no one to guide people the way Kabir, or Meera, or Mother Teresa did through their lives. What sort of भक्ति is this that is devoid of ममता, प्रेम, and स्नेह? Various Hindi news papers call these people श्रध्हालू and तीर्थ यात्री and describe all this as if this is some journey to heaven. But when people are pushing each other, shouting at each other, there’s no love or kindness and without these, can there be a prayer?
The only people who I thought were doing real worship here, were a couple of young men who were distributing free coffee and sweets in the cold night to any one who would pass by. Off late, I find no better way of praying than serving. And now all those ‘pilgrims’ who were enjoying this free coffee were littering around with the coffee cups. All the way on National Highway to Badrinath, I found every one throwing plastic and trash so mercilessly on road that I was wondering what पुण्य are these people going to earn at Badrinath when they spoil the mother earth this way. Every throw of plastic would give a severe blow to heart and somehow I managed to control myself. What right these people from rest of India have to come to hills and spoil the place and begin the process of converting the place into a trash bag that are coming from? All these rich and powerful people wearing Armani shades, are they not cultured enough to have the least civil sense?
I have this curiosity now that why temples have a deity in a closed and badly spaced room. I suggest that we erect a single huge statue of god placed at a height or in a large space and statue be placed in an open space protected by barricades. No one should be allowed to come close anywhere in the 5 kms radius of the statue. Statue should be so huge that it is visible from distance. This way, there will be no secondary queues for close glimpse of God. Anyone will be able to see it. Then give the challenge to people to now feel God from wherever they are standing and viewing the God.
Having said all this, I am glad that I could do one thing that did not displease my parents but made them immensely happy. When my mom told that she forgot all her tiredness or cold or hunger when she finally saw the statues with closest proximity and when the priest placed his hand on her head while blessing, I said to myself, ‘fine yaar, you got your god, I am yet to find mine, I hope I do this sometime’
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
"Child Labor"
I was going to Maddi Lala’s shop for some toiletries. On the way, first I saw the family with 3 little sons. Two of them playing, and the eldest one – 8 year old, breaking stones. First comment in head was of course the clichéd child labor pity – poor kid, he should be playing, he is breaking stones with hammers. I did not click his picture. I guess we have seen enough of pictures/videos/stories on this, and there’s no need to expose the plight of these children any more to establish that child labor is pretty much prevalent in India. In a while, his dad arrived. I did not act like an NGO guy, by telling that what the hell was he doing, his son was not supposed to do the labor etc etc. Rather, I casually and curiously enquired, “school ni jaainch” (Did the children not go to school today?).
He replied, “nai saab jaate hai school, ab pahunche thodi der pehle”. I was wondering what else the child could do now in the village in this period after school. This is one of the poorest families I have ever seen. Asking the children to read something after school would have been too much of a demand. Parents have do not have education or enthusiasm to sit with their kids with books. The children can’t really play all the time after school. It was tough to conclude if it was really child labor. His dad would earn some money by selling those stones. Who knows how much of that money will be used in alcohol and how much in buying even a candy (forget clothes etc.) for the kid? Of course this scene was running totally counter to the Child Protection that our NGO focuses on. On one hand, child could hit his hand anytime with hammer and stones. On the other hand, the child might be experienced enough by now to carry this task seamlessly without any danger.
With these thoughts I reached Maddi Lala’s shop some 10 metres away. There a very young boy was sipping tea and having a cream roll. He was taking lunch-break from his tasks of walking all day selling saree and rugs. The conversation went like this:
“Kahan rehte ho tum”
“Mehelchori”
“subha khane ka kya karte ho”
“subha kaun banaaye.. subha kuch nahi karte”
“subha khaana khaate hi nahi ho”
“na”
“aise hi nikal padte ho..? fir saare din kya karte ho?”
“aise hi samaan bechte hain ghar ghar mein”
“paidal chalte ho saare din?”
“haan”
“fir yahan kisi dukaan pe chaay pee lete ho, hain? Raat ko khaate ho?”
“haan haan”
“hotel main?”
“na na, raat ko pakate hain to, kamre pe”
“umr kitn hai tumhari?”
“16 saal”
“kab se kar rahe ho yeh?”
“ho gaye 3-4 saal”
“gaon kahan hai tumhara?”
“muzaffar nagar”
“ghar mein aur bhai behen bhi hain”
“haan haan, sab hai to, sab mazdoori dhyadi karte hain”
“school… kahan tak padhe?”
Laughs, “ZERO”
“hain?”
“school mein padha hi nahi kabhi.. ghar mein khoob koshish ki padhaane ki, main school se bhaag jata tha.. man nahi lagta tha school.. padhai mein”
Now I was speechless for sometime. I understand that this boy started the work at the age of around 13. He has never been to school and had no interest either. Who is responsible for this ‘child labor’? Is it the boring school that could not entice him to education? But then many other would have studied in the same school. Is it the parents, who could not engage him in something else at home, where he could have at least gotten two times meal? What could parents possibly do in family of 7 children, who are currently pooling in money at home, may be for sisters’ wedding or household expenses. Parents do not work, this boy told me. I can’t figure out what sustainable help can be extended to make this boy’s life better. Does he himself feel that his life needs to be bettered? In the small conversation I had with him, he never sounded complaining. If this labor is taken away from away from him, what will he do? I guess if there’s something that one can do for him, then it would be making him have breakfast somehow. Either he himself prepares or buys. He carries that heavy sack of rug on his back all day walking up and down hill. He might end up becoming anemic. Now I might be accused of underestimating the boy. And on the top of that, if he gets into alcohol/smoking (in case he hasn’t already), then that will complete the damage.
He replied, “nai saab jaate hai school, ab pahunche thodi der pehle”. I was wondering what else the child could do now in the village in this period after school. This is one of the poorest families I have ever seen. Asking the children to read something after school would have been too much of a demand. Parents have do not have education or enthusiasm to sit with their kids with books. The children can’t really play all the time after school. It was tough to conclude if it was really child labor. His dad would earn some money by selling those stones. Who knows how much of that money will be used in alcohol and how much in buying even a candy (forget clothes etc.) for the kid? Of course this scene was running totally counter to the Child Protection that our NGO focuses on. On one hand, child could hit his hand anytime with hammer and stones. On the other hand, the child might be experienced enough by now to carry this task seamlessly without any danger.
With these thoughts I reached Maddi Lala’s shop some 10 metres away. There a very young boy was sipping tea and having a cream roll. He was taking lunch-break from his tasks of walking all day selling saree and rugs. The conversation went like this:
“Kahan rehte ho tum”
“Mehelchori”
“subha khane ka kya karte ho”
“subha kaun banaaye.. subha kuch nahi karte”
“subha khaana khaate hi nahi ho”
“na”
“aise hi nikal padte ho..? fir saare din kya karte ho?”
“aise hi samaan bechte hain ghar ghar mein”
“paidal chalte ho saare din?”
“haan”
“fir yahan kisi dukaan pe chaay pee lete ho, hain? Raat ko khaate ho?”
“haan haan”
“hotel main?”
“na na, raat ko pakate hain to, kamre pe”
“umr kitn hai tumhari?”
“16 saal”
“kab se kar rahe ho yeh?”
“ho gaye 3-4 saal”
“gaon kahan hai tumhara?”
“muzaffar nagar”
“ghar mein aur bhai behen bhi hain”
“haan haan, sab hai to, sab mazdoori dhyadi karte hain”
“school… kahan tak padhe?”
Laughs, “ZERO”
“hain?”
“school mein padha hi nahi kabhi.. ghar mein khoob koshish ki padhaane ki, main school se bhaag jata tha.. man nahi lagta tha school.. padhai mein”
Now I was speechless for sometime. I understand that this boy started the work at the age of around 13. He has never been to school and had no interest either. Who is responsible for this ‘child labor’? Is it the boring school that could not entice him to education? But then many other would have studied in the same school. Is it the parents, who could not engage him in something else at home, where he could have at least gotten two times meal? What could parents possibly do in family of 7 children, who are currently pooling in money at home, may be for sisters’ wedding or household expenses. Parents do not work, this boy told me. I can’t figure out what sustainable help can be extended to make this boy’s life better. Does he himself feel that his life needs to be bettered? In the small conversation I had with him, he never sounded complaining. If this labor is taken away from away from him, what will he do? I guess if there’s something that one can do for him, then it would be making him have breakfast somehow. Either he himself prepares or buys. He carries that heavy sack of rug on his back all day walking up and down hill. He might end up becoming anemic. Now I might be accused of underestimating the boy. And on the top of that, if he gets into alcohol/smoking (in case he hasn’t already), then that will complete the damage.
From the platform
I was waiting for my train to Haldwani. After standing for half an hour, my legs could not bear any more, after all I had been carrying that heavy , almost 10 Kg, back pack in and around the Old Delhi Railway station. Plus, I had just heard the announcement that train was 2 hours late and it was terribly cold that night. So, I looked around the place I was standing to find any seating arrangement. Just next to me was a group of people, apparently a family from Bihar. They had some cloth laid out on ground, and on that they were all lying covered with blankets. I requested one of them to let me sit on a small patch of cloth. The guy said, “arrey poochne ki kaa baat hai, baith jaaiye”. One of the women in group gave a tiny smile, as a sign of approval perhaps. Initially, only half of my ass was on cloth, slowly I made my way to gain little more of cloth under me, as not only my payjama was getting soiled, I was shivering from the cold from ground. I kept waiting for my train, and the announcer kept adding grace period to wait time. From 2 hours, it was now 3 hours and 45 minutes. The family continued to sleep. Sometime, one of them would accidentally hit me with his feet and then apologize. In every half an hour, a police man from Delhi police will come and hit them with his shoes and will not apologize. He would shout at them and probe them with feet like they are animals. That’s the value of human life. I was getting angry, but the recent incident from Delhi Govt Dispensary was still fresh in my memory. I was thinking how many things can I alone set right. There were many other ‘educated’, ‘high society’ people around who were watching this and did not bother to object.
But the main purpose of sharing this experience is somewhat deeper. This family allowed me to sit next to them on their cloth. They wouldn’t have said anything even if I had sat without asking for permission. When my train arrived, and I got up and said Shukria, the guy from the family said, “arrey bhai aapka bhi samay kat gaya, hamara bhi!”. I don’t think any of my friends from city circle (IIT, MNC’s, English educated etc etc) would have let a stranger sit next to their family. It’s tougher when that stranger is male-bachelor and dressed as a rustic. In many places in Delhi, such men are called chhada (often used to refer to labor migrated from Bihar).A couple of months back, I am sure I myself wouldn’t have allowed that. We become concerned about privacy and safety of the family. What is it with our education and modernization and our middle or upper class society that we tend to be drifted away from the concept of ‘vasudhev kutumbam’ (whole earth is a family) in practice as we ‘prosper’ and ‘progress’ and gain more status? We tend to keep ourselves and our dear ones more guarded from ‘others’ and more boundaries are created. In fact, a couple of months back, I am very sure, the first remark that would have echoed in my head after seeing that family would have been,“kahan se aa jaate hain, saara rasta bloc kar dete hain”, forget about sitting next to them. This family is one of the many families one can find every night on the platforms of Indian Railways. These are the people who travel in general compartment. Because of delays in trains, and because they have nowhere else to go and wait, they lay down on the platform and destroy the aesthetics of stations. At a time when railways do not have a decent waiting room even for people with sleeper class reservation, such families will have to wait a couple of decades for better conditions for themselves on stations.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Where will it all end finally?
I was watching a show on Discovery in which they were showing the modes of transport of future. The mode of transport was shown primarily to be AIR! Jet packs would be used to move from one place to another. People would be able to evade traffic hassles by easily flying over small distances instead of commuting by roads.
Cool. New innovation, huh? Similar optimism must have been expressed a couple of centuries back when road transport was introduced? It’s in big mess today everywhere. We ate up all lands. On the modern road, where vehicles move today, many years ago, those were the roaming grounds of animals. But we chased them away by killing their habitats and making roads for us. Now we want to chase the birds too away by making more intrusions (apart from Planes) into their roaming air. Does this hunger to save time lead us anywhere? Once it becomes affordable and practical, even jet packs will see Traffic lights hanging in the air. But what after air? I guess we will then spoil other planets from scratch as we did to earth.
Cool. New innovation, huh? Similar optimism must have been expressed a couple of centuries back when road transport was introduced? It’s in big mess today everywhere. We ate up all lands. On the modern road, where vehicles move today, many years ago, those were the roaming grounds of animals. But we chased them away by killing their habitats and making roads for us. Now we want to chase the birds too away by making more intrusions (apart from Planes) into their roaming air. Does this hunger to save time lead us anywhere? Once it becomes affordable and practical, even jet packs will see Traffic lights hanging in the air. But what after air? I guess we will then spoil other planets from scratch as we did to earth.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Swades Ki Khoj - Madhyantar
Let me begin by wishing everyone a very blissful new year. I hope you are in great health and mood.I have spent 6 months in Swades Ki Khoj, instead of sharing experiences individually with friends through emails, let me try to express it here.
My experiences in swades ki khoj had been quite great so far. This discovery was not some one moment. I have had experiences in the past few months which all form this discovery. Changes have started happening without me being consciously aware of them. When I return from morning run, and I see some old woman breaking stones in a corner, my eyes become wet. I feel dwarfed and overwhelmed when I see an old woman bringing loads of fodder or fuel wood on her back, yet managing to give a smile when I wish her Namaste. I am valuing money more than ever before. I have made friends with people who by conventional wisdom are from a world totally different from mine. For example I became friends with Mukesh in Ashram plainly because of the fact that we are both human beings and we have a common language and I need another human being in the Ashram to see and talk to. There’s no hidden agenda or expected returns in such friendship. I am glad I could experience such unique form of friendship.
Around Deepwawali, I stayed in Mehergaon with Pradhan Hoshiyar’s family. That time of around a week was one of the best times I had. I tilled land and had break fast with the family in the field in sunshine, sitting on the same ground which had given the manduwa few months back, whose chapatti I was having there. It was a divine feeling. It was the closest I got to food we eat. I hadn’t even seen a ladyfinger plant before the internship. Pradhan Ji’s 5 tiny daughters appeared one after the other before me like von trapp children of Sounds of Music! One of them still says, ‘mujhe chacha ki khudi lag gayi’. The unconditional love that the family began showering in no time was overwhelming. Even the village became so much familiar with me that when I returned here again after some time (to see ashtabali mela to actually witness animal sacrifice) they all recognized me, although I couldn’t identify them! It was really like a home coming. My village is in Haryana where I last visited at least a decade back. No one lives there any more. I am glad that now I have a village to call my own.
Apart from this I have been going to many other villages in different clusters to speak with farmers. What has been most enlightening is the dialogue with the elderly. I try to hear their perspective on such things as ‘democracy’ and ‘freedom’. It’s interesting to know how they feel when I tell them that India is growing or that we are in 21st century. But I haven’t had enough of this. I am still hungry for more of Gairsain! I feel that I have fallen in love with Garhwal and more so with the huge hill in front of campus which I always want to embrace! People are so hospitable that I feel extremely swept over when after I have food in some home, the people in that home apologize with me for any thing I disliked. God, I see god in them! I wonder which world are these people from? Is it the same India where I lived in 6 months back? In fact when someone speaks with discourtesy, I found that almost in 100% cases, the person is from Dehradun or Delhi!
I recently attended a mid-term review workshop of Swades Ki Khoj at Chirag. It was interesting to see what others had been doing. Every one has changed in some way! Many people are more confused now including me! Earlier I would think of getting into music/ theatre/ journalism/ Air force. Now, after discovering more of myself in this internship, I am having more career interests! – NGO, IAS, doing my own business in this area, I hope confusion gets resolved in the coming months!
Now I plan to see Kumbh Mela in haridwar for the first time. These mystic things have become subjects of my interests. I am giving benefit of doubt to these things which I would earlier plainly reject as irrationalities or blind faiths, may be because of strong faith and culture of people.
My experiences in swades ki khoj had been quite great so far. This discovery was not some one moment. I have had experiences in the past few months which all form this discovery. Changes have started happening without me being consciously aware of them. When I return from morning run, and I see some old woman breaking stones in a corner, my eyes become wet. I feel dwarfed and overwhelmed when I see an old woman bringing loads of fodder or fuel wood on her back, yet managing to give a smile when I wish her Namaste. I am valuing money more than ever before. I have made friends with people who by conventional wisdom are from a world totally different from mine. For example I became friends with Mukesh in Ashram plainly because of the fact that we are both human beings and we have a common language and I need another human being in the Ashram to see and talk to. There’s no hidden agenda or expected returns in such friendship. I am glad I could experience such unique form of friendship.
Around Deepwawali, I stayed in Mehergaon with Pradhan Hoshiyar’s family. That time of around a week was one of the best times I had. I tilled land and had break fast with the family in the field in sunshine, sitting on the same ground which had given the manduwa few months back, whose chapatti I was having there. It was a divine feeling. It was the closest I got to food we eat. I hadn’t even seen a ladyfinger plant before the internship. Pradhan Ji’s 5 tiny daughters appeared one after the other before me like von trapp children of Sounds of Music! One of them still says, ‘mujhe chacha ki khudi lag gayi’. The unconditional love that the family began showering in no time was overwhelming. Even the village became so much familiar with me that when I returned here again after some time (to see ashtabali mela to actually witness animal sacrifice) they all recognized me, although I couldn’t identify them! It was really like a home coming. My village is in Haryana where I last visited at least a decade back. No one lives there any more. I am glad that now I have a village to call my own.
Apart from this I have been going to many other villages in different clusters to speak with farmers. What has been most enlightening is the dialogue with the elderly. I try to hear their perspective on such things as ‘democracy’ and ‘freedom’. It’s interesting to know how they feel when I tell them that India is growing or that we are in 21st century. But I haven’t had enough of this. I am still hungry for more of Gairsain! I feel that I have fallen in love with Garhwal and more so with the huge hill in front of campus which I always want to embrace! People are so hospitable that I feel extremely swept over when after I have food in some home, the people in that home apologize with me for any thing I disliked. God, I see god in them! I wonder which world are these people from? Is it the same India where I lived in 6 months back? In fact when someone speaks with discourtesy, I found that almost in 100% cases, the person is from Dehradun or Delhi!
I recently attended a mid-term review workshop of Swades Ki Khoj at Chirag. It was interesting to see what others had been doing. Every one has changed in some way! Many people are more confused now including me! Earlier I would think of getting into music/ theatre/ journalism/ Air force. Now, after discovering more of myself in this internship, I am having more career interests! – NGO, IAS, doing my own business in this area, I hope confusion gets resolved in the coming months!
Now I plan to see Kumbh Mela in haridwar for the first time. These mystic things have become subjects of my interests. I am giving benefit of doubt to these things which I would earlier plainly reject as irrationalities or blind faiths, may be because of strong faith and culture of people.
linguistically speaking
Savita is one of the few people who has offered me alternative line of thought. Few days back, she showed me a perspective that I could not find myself in an obvious manner. She asked why I talked in English with Mohit Ji from Plan. This is the kind of thing I look forward to while I am with SBMA to actually get moved. Of course I do get to learn from everyone both from village or the NGO. But learning something that I myself could not learn directly is priceless. Generally people in NGO would be submissive and nod yes with whatever I say. But I am glad Savita put a question before me that made me to think. Plus I was tired of such submission all around me. When I thought deeply I realized she was right.
Yesterday when I was talking to Akanksha from Plan, I was consciously making efforts not to speak in English. But I found myself speaking in English every now and then, and on such realizations I immediately switched to Hindi. Thus, it was a game of hide and seek between English and Hindi. This gave me a clue why I spoke with Mohit Ji or with Nishita or Shruti or Prateek from Swades in English. Actually Akanksha was speaking in English. I guess she was also making little efforts to toggle. But mostly she spoke in English. That made me speak in English. Same happened with others too. It just comes onto tongue naturally. I naturally do not talk in English while I am in village or with NGO people.
Yesterday when I was talking to Akanksha from Plan, I was consciously making efforts not to speak in English. But I found myself speaking in English every now and then, and on such realizations I immediately switched to Hindi. Thus, it was a game of hide and seek between English and Hindi. This gave me a clue why I spoke with Mohit Ji or with Nishita or Shruti or Prateek from Swades in English. Actually Akanksha was speaking in English. I guess she was also making little efforts to toggle. But mostly she spoke in English. That made me speak in English. Same happened with others too. It just comes onto tongue naturally. I naturally do not talk in English while I am in village or with NGO people.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Climate Change
We have started feeling the heat of climate change in a diffused form when we feel disheartened on not finding something we expected. It is usually associated with tourism. For example, all our lives, we learnt that hills are cool and that it snows there every winter. But often people visit the conventionally cooler places and end up getting dejected on seeing their beliefs turning false. I went to Joshimath so that I could visit Auli too and enjoy winters there. But unfortunately, there was very less snow. There was no point of going to Auli as snow wasn’t good enough for skiing. Even the films and songs that we indulged in while growing up, showed hills to be some kind of paradise. For instance, there was a song from the film Ram teri Ganga maili ho gayi, which said, “husna pahdaon ka, kya kehna ke baron mahine, yahan mausam jaadon ka” , meaning that hills are so beautiful because they have winters all 12 months. Although the song is still a rage in hills, but since the time when this song was written, climate has undergone dramatic change and it’s not so wintery any more. I get up every morning expecting to see some snow here, but even though it’s January time, there’s no snow. My acquaintances from plains keep trying to confirm that it is freezing cold here, but they too feel surprised when I tell them that weather is alright. It’s not that cold. In fact it is colder in Delhi and other surrounding places of northern India. That cold is evident in my mom’s voice when she calls me.
I imagine how much disappointed our kids would be when they will see no characteristics of weather they read in books or watch in films when they actually visit such a place. Even the notion of ‘river’ has changed. Often while travelling I see some water body which natives of that place refer to as river, but to me it doesn’t look like anything more than liquid spill. It will be sad if kids were to see rivers and trees and green pastures only in books and photos. I can see at least some snow, albeit in farther hills. But I doubt my kids will see even that much snow. I am still an outsider in hills. My disappointment is temporary. After I go back to Delhi, I might forget it all. But for the people in villages here different types of weathers have strong connection with the life and culture here. Their festivals are associated with different seasons. They look forward to play in snow every year. Even though it is cold, they enjoy snow as it’s a part of their calendar. They make makeshift boards and do snow boarding. These people must be deeply saddened with this varying pattern of weather.
I guess people are not so active in preserving climate even now because, climate change hasn’t been strong enough to hit the very existence of lot of people in an obvious manner. Droughts and floods in unlikely places are of course result of climate change only. But such causal relationship is not obvious enough for a common man to become sensitive and take action. Humans anyway have strongest tendency to adapt, so if the change is not very huge and quick, people can get used to such things as falling rainfall or lack of snow. As long it is not as widespread and obvious as some kind of epidemic, people will not respond much on a large scale for example carrying out districts wide forestation. But people should learn from their follies. They should not wait for a crisis to actually hit their door for them to get their a** moving. I think environmentalists too will not do harm if they create an atmosphere of fear which can force people to become active in saving climate.
I imagine how much disappointed our kids would be when they will see no characteristics of weather they read in books or watch in films when they actually visit such a place. Even the notion of ‘river’ has changed. Often while travelling I see some water body which natives of that place refer to as river, but to me it doesn’t look like anything more than liquid spill. It will be sad if kids were to see rivers and trees and green pastures only in books and photos. I can see at least some snow, albeit in farther hills. But I doubt my kids will see even that much snow. I am still an outsider in hills. My disappointment is temporary. After I go back to Delhi, I might forget it all. But for the people in villages here different types of weathers have strong connection with the life and culture here. Their festivals are associated with different seasons. They look forward to play in snow every year. Even though it is cold, they enjoy snow as it’s a part of their calendar. They make makeshift boards and do snow boarding. These people must be deeply saddened with this varying pattern of weather.
I guess people are not so active in preserving climate even now because, climate change hasn’t been strong enough to hit the very existence of lot of people in an obvious manner. Droughts and floods in unlikely places are of course result of climate change only. But such causal relationship is not obvious enough for a common man to become sensitive and take action. Humans anyway have strongest tendency to adapt, so if the change is not very huge and quick, people can get used to such things as falling rainfall or lack of snow. As long it is not as widespread and obvious as some kind of epidemic, people will not respond much on a large scale for example carrying out districts wide forestation. But people should learn from their follies. They should not wait for a crisis to actually hit their door for them to get their a** moving. I think environmentalists too will not do harm if they create an atmosphere of fear which can force people to become active in saving climate.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Rats
So far I believe I have killed 5 rats. Rats have always posed big threat to me, primarily they cause lot of damage even to things of no use to them, like books, paper and cloth and also, in case of those big mice, they are a compromise with hygiene thus a risk of diseases. When I arrived in Ashram, one thing that gave me sleepless nights were chaos of mice in night. I was so disturbing that even thoughts of quitting internship cross my mind. I did not expect luxury in the village, but then I will be happy even if I get a small but clean hut.
I had no clue what to do. I did not have that box in which rats can be caught. In the village, I asked one gentle man, Bangari Ji, who had expertise in kitchen garden, although sometimes sold some unique sized product of his farm for handsome prize. He did well in treating disease of vegetables, so I thought he might as well suggest something for rats. He told me to make small rolls wet flour along with broken pieces of glass. Rat will instantly die as glass pieces will be too big to get down his tiny intestines. When I shared that novel idea with Claudia, she found it gross and evil. Next he suggested complicated methods of using leaves and oils of certain plants. On the way back I saw a simpler solution of Mortien Rat Kill. I found out that a couple of those were available with Ashram also. So I used those cakes. Although cake was not found next morning, but the rat had his night thereafter too. It turned out that those cakes had expired and hence were ineffective. I got 6 sachets of brand new cakes next day. And it worked. I had peaceful nights. But one day, we opened one room in Ashram, and it smelled gross. We found the victim of my rat kill cakes there, and from the malodor it felt that expiry date of the rat was at least a week old. He was a big fat horrible carcass.
I had relief for a month until I was moved to another room. New rats found their way here. They punched holes in plastic containers, leaked a mustard oil bottle and nibbled on bathing soap. What did they achieve in doing this? I suppose they don’t eat plastic or soap or drink mustard oil. I was forced to another Rat Kill cake. I found that their main source was bath room, so I placed on there and on in front on room. Every time I would keep rat cakes in night, first thing I will do to look for no signs of the cake. The one in front of my room was gone. I was happy. The one in the bath room was still there. I noticed that in the night I also left the instruction paper that came with cake, next to the cake itself. I wonder if the mice read the instruction when he arrived at the cake and thus comprehend my intention and left the cake unattended.
I had no clue what to do. I did not have that box in which rats can be caught. In the village, I asked one gentle man, Bangari Ji, who had expertise in kitchen garden, although sometimes sold some unique sized product of his farm for handsome prize. He did well in treating disease of vegetables, so I thought he might as well suggest something for rats. He told me to make small rolls wet flour along with broken pieces of glass. Rat will instantly die as glass pieces will be too big to get down his tiny intestines. When I shared that novel idea with Claudia, she found it gross and evil. Next he suggested complicated methods of using leaves and oils of certain plants. On the way back I saw a simpler solution of Mortien Rat Kill. I found out that a couple of those were available with Ashram also. So I used those cakes. Although cake was not found next morning, but the rat had his night thereafter too. It turned out that those cakes had expired and hence were ineffective. I got 6 sachets of brand new cakes next day. And it worked. I had peaceful nights. But one day, we opened one room in Ashram, and it smelled gross. We found the victim of my rat kill cakes there, and from the malodor it felt that expiry date of the rat was at least a week old. He was a big fat horrible carcass.
I had relief for a month until I was moved to another room. New rats found their way here. They punched holes in plastic containers, leaked a mustard oil bottle and nibbled on bathing soap. What did they achieve in doing this? I suppose they don’t eat plastic or soap or drink mustard oil. I was forced to another Rat Kill cake. I found that their main source was bath room, so I placed on there and on in front on room. Every time I would keep rat cakes in night, first thing I will do to look for no signs of the cake. The one in front of my room was gone. I was happy. The one in the bath room was still there. I noticed that in the night I also left the instruction paper that came with cake, next to the cake itself. I wonder if the mice read the instruction when he arrived at the cake and thus comprehend my intention and left the cake unattended.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Yeh Delhi hai meri jaan
People in hills in general and at the NGO in particular are very respectful. First of all, I never hear ‘Tu’. It’s mostly ‘Aaap’ and sometimes ‘Tum’. Okay I do not mean to say that respect is reflected only through the pronouns we use to address others. But at places where it is, like this one, then being addressed as ‘Aap’ makes me feel respected. Even those, who have more experience than my age! , they call me ‘rajeevg’ and ‘aap’. Surprisingly, this ‘rajeevg’ does not sound as Bihari ‘rajeevg’.
Recently when I went to medical hospital, the doctor was quite ill mannered. The generalization that government doctors will any way talk like they are obliging the patients will not be valid here. The other doctors Dr. Rana and his daughter were quite charming. Fuming at the outrageous attitude of that medical superintendent I filed an RTI for the information I attempted to request for, politely. Back at NGO, I explained what triggered me filing the RTI. I told that I was deeply offended by the way she talked to me. Everybody in the village talks with so much respect, so I wasn’t used to this kind of behavior. Dimri Ji told that she was from Delhi. I felt so small in this one piece of information. Why do Delhi guys have to be so high headed? When I wrote ‘Yeh Delhi hai meri jaan’ entry in my blog earlier, people were all offended about my opinion on Delhites, but that observation of mine is quite clear and correct and one does not need to wear microscope to see this.
Today, while I was going to bazaar, as usual in hills, I forgot the way and took wrong turn. But I realized that and turned back. Finding me confused, one lady from a group sitting near Swajal tap asked, ‘Kahan se aa raha hai, rasta pooch nahi sakta, kahan se hai’.
I was shocked. I was at least expecting, ‘kahan jaa rahe ho’ if not ‘Ko jaani, kakh batan aani’ . All the way to the market, I thought about this. I intentionally took the same route while coming back to encounter the lady again. Before I reached the tap again, I met some women of that group. I was ready to let my anger out by asking them if that’s how they too usually talked.
Before I could say a word, I saw the familiar Garhwali smile and the first woman asked,
‘Bhaiyya, rasta mil gaya?’
‘haan’
I got some encouragement and noticed that they were dressed in Garhwali form. I was too disturbed earlier to see what they were wearing. I asked the girl behind, ‘Didi, gobar khad gaddhe se le jaa rahe hoya seedha’
‘Khaad gadhe se , bhaiyya’
‘Kisne banwayaa, Swajal ne?’
‘haan, isi saal’
‘accha, kaunsa? Keede waala? Vermi to mil gaye the na’
‘haan haan, bhaiya bhaat khao’
‘nahi, bas dhanyavad’
As I moved happily little ahead, I met another woman.
‘bhaiyya, mila gaya tha rasta bazaar?’
‘haan’
‘badi jaldi waapas aainch tum’
‘didi, aap yahin rehte ho’
‘nahi bhai, me dehradun rehen, yeh to inka gobar le jaa rahi hun’
I was joyous to know that even though she was from town, she knew Garhwali and spoke Hindi with Garhwali accent and respected people like anyone here in Garhwal. But I was yet to see the other that rude lady. So I asked this one, ‘didi, who jo behenji udhar baithi thi, unka ghar kaunsa hua?’
‘Bhaiyya, who to delhi ki hai, bhai ke ghar aa rakhi’
‘Well, that explains it!’
On my way up, when I arrived at the tap, I saw the uptown woman still washing clothes under the tap. I noticed her hair and dressing style. She was alien. Without saying a word, I moved on.
I guess to respect someone, one doesn’t need to be a villager or city dweller or illiterate or educated. It’s a common sense. The woman from Delhi immediately assumed a higher position for her in the group because she was Delhi. One might argue that the lingo and style that I despise might actually be the culture of Delhi. Well then, Delhi must be culturally very poor and this culture thing is as much clichéd and futile as the undying spirit of Bombay. I wonder even in Haryana, which is supposedly famous for its raw language and habits, people speak this way with strangers.
Yeh dilli nahi ban sakti meri jaan unless it raises it culture quotient.
Recently when I went to medical hospital, the doctor was quite ill mannered. The generalization that government doctors will any way talk like they are obliging the patients will not be valid here. The other doctors Dr. Rana and his daughter were quite charming. Fuming at the outrageous attitude of that medical superintendent I filed an RTI for the information I attempted to request for, politely. Back at NGO, I explained what triggered me filing the RTI. I told that I was deeply offended by the way she talked to me. Everybody in the village talks with so much respect, so I wasn’t used to this kind of behavior. Dimri Ji told that she was from Delhi. I felt so small in this one piece of information. Why do Delhi guys have to be so high headed? When I wrote ‘Yeh Delhi hai meri jaan’ entry in my blog earlier, people were all offended about my opinion on Delhites, but that observation of mine is quite clear and correct and one does not need to wear microscope to see this.
Today, while I was going to bazaar, as usual in hills, I forgot the way and took wrong turn. But I realized that and turned back. Finding me confused, one lady from a group sitting near Swajal tap asked, ‘Kahan se aa raha hai, rasta pooch nahi sakta, kahan se hai’.
I was shocked. I was at least expecting, ‘kahan jaa rahe ho’ if not ‘Ko jaani, kakh batan aani’ . All the way to the market, I thought about this. I intentionally took the same route while coming back to encounter the lady again. Before I reached the tap again, I met some women of that group. I was ready to let my anger out by asking them if that’s how they too usually talked.
Before I could say a word, I saw the familiar Garhwali smile and the first woman asked,
‘Bhaiyya, rasta mil gaya?’
‘haan’
I got some encouragement and noticed that they were dressed in Garhwali form. I was too disturbed earlier to see what they were wearing. I asked the girl behind, ‘Didi, gobar khad gaddhe se le jaa rahe hoya seedha’
‘Khaad gadhe se , bhaiyya’
‘Kisne banwayaa, Swajal ne?’
‘haan, isi saal’
‘accha, kaunsa? Keede waala? Vermi to mil gaye the na’
‘haan haan, bhaiya bhaat khao’
‘nahi, bas dhanyavad’
As I moved happily little ahead, I met another woman.
‘bhaiyya, mila gaya tha rasta bazaar?’
‘haan’
‘badi jaldi waapas aainch tum’
‘didi, aap yahin rehte ho’
‘nahi bhai, me dehradun rehen, yeh to inka gobar le jaa rahi hun’
I was joyous to know that even though she was from town, she knew Garhwali and spoke Hindi with Garhwali accent and respected people like anyone here in Garhwal. But I was yet to see the other that rude lady. So I asked this one, ‘didi, who jo behenji udhar baithi thi, unka ghar kaunsa hua?’
‘Bhaiyya, who to delhi ki hai, bhai ke ghar aa rakhi’
‘Well, that explains it!’
On my way up, when I arrived at the tap, I saw the uptown woman still washing clothes under the tap. I noticed her hair and dressing style. She was alien. Without saying a word, I moved on.
I guess to respect someone, one doesn’t need to be a villager or city dweller or illiterate or educated. It’s a common sense. The woman from Delhi immediately assumed a higher position for her in the group because she was Delhi. One might argue that the lingo and style that I despise might actually be the culture of Delhi. Well then, Delhi must be culturally very poor and this culture thing is as much clichéd and futile as the undying spirit of Bombay. I wonder even in Haryana, which is supposedly famous for its raw language and habits, people speak this way with strangers.
Yeh dilli nahi ban sakti meri jaan unless it raises it culture quotient.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Happy Deepawali
They say that a picture speaks thousand words
Another place, Another home, Another family, Happy Deepawali
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Me and Julie
Initially I did not like her, like any one else from her species, in fact I did not even know until recently if she was she or he, because people would address her as he only. I got to know her gender only after she gave birth to four little angels. It’s surprising that I have been staying in Ashram now for close to 3 months without worrying about dogs. Rather I feel affectionate towards Julie. Earlier I would always hesitate to go into a house where there’s a sign beware of dogs. In such homes, I would ask from outside itself if the dog was tied or not. In fact, sometimes I would enjoy showing third finger to dog. But here at Ashram, first of all, for the first time, I am not scared of dogs and there are two of them. Four actually, there are two puppies too. I treat them like another occupant of Ashram, saying Hello when I pass by them. Things actually changed after Claudia left. Before that, I was too absorbed in conversations with Claudia to even give a look at these dogs. I would try to stay away from them. Once, I was having lunch, and Julie came and sat right under my chair. The moment my leg touched her and I realized this, I sprang from chair, shaking the whole food table and thus almost giving a heart attack to Claudia. She told that she was surprised that Julie sat under my chair, even though I did not like her then. I think over last few weeks, Julie also understands that I don’t dislike her. Earlier, when I would try to go close to her or touch her, she would kinda bark, or go away or become alert, but now she just politely closes her eyes or does not react. May be in sometime, she might reciprocate the affection as she does to other people in Ashram. I guess the relation between me and Julie is improving because she has seen how much I love her kids. First time when I tried to touch the little Frank Jr and Sophie, Julie barked and almost hit my finger. But now when I cuddle them, she doesn’t react. She’s is just silently happy that there’s one more to the army of people who shower affection on her children. It’s quite magical actually. Kids on streets in cities do not get so much love as these puppies do. Who ever comes to Ashram – new or old, just loves them, and does baby talk to them. Most strangely, Me. I wonder if ever touched a dog before this. But when these puppies are around, all my fondness comes out. Sometimes I let them probe or lick my shoes when they try to climb on to me, by placing there tiny paw on my shoes. When they walk and do kinda rap through their neck, they really resemble the little toys we see in stores, who does things or dance or walk through some spring action. But I am yet to become fully a dog person. I don’t touch them quite often, as I have fear that there might be some insects or diseases in their hair. The way even kids in Ashram keep the puppies for long in their lap and remove dirt or insect from their hair and body, I can’t do that now, may be for hygiene and fear factor. Plus I feel tired of washing hands every time I am done with them. Amit Ji in Ashram already told that there are small lices or insects kind of thins with Julie, which she has transmitted on to cane chairs which she naps upon in the afternoon. Since then, I have stopped sitting on those can chairs. Now if I can’t share a chair with dogs at this stage, how can I possibly jump straight to the level of having the puppies sleep with me. I think all of this might boil down to faith. If I had my own puppy, personal one, then I would have taken care of him, given him bath to him and then I would have belief that the puppy is clean and stay with me like another human being, and I wouldn’t have any doubts about him. As long as I don’t personally take care of the puppies in Ashram, the suspicion might prevent me from going too close to them.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
My introduction in my own land!
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own country. Off late, when I go somewhere and I am asked for ‘aapka parichay’. In my introduction, I say, ‘Rajeev Gupta, Gairsain’, which I guess should be sufficient. But they insist in asking, “No, where are you from? Which organization?”. They want to get out of me, that I am from Delhi and that I work with SBMA. I go to market, after little conversation, I am asked, “where are you from, you need a lodge?”. Recently, I visited a community health centre in the village, and I wanted to ask the doctor why the costly medicines are never available with the dispensary and if she is allowed to prescribe such medicines. So I went up to the doctor, and told her that I needed some information from about medicines. She asked me for introduction. She spoke further only when I told her that I was from the NGO. Now that she knew I was from NGO, she asked why would NGO be interested in this information. That’s why I did not want to divulge that, because after that, the conversation takes a different turn. In fact, so many people come to this only medical centre from remote villages. I am sure the doctor does not know them either. But she doesn’t ask them their introduction when they come for treatment. Or perhaps she does not bother to know a patient as long as he doesn’t do the abnormal task of questioning. Similarly, when I went to Krishi Mahotsav, and tried to make my point, the government adhikari asked me to give my introduction first. Why do I have to be from any organization to make myself heard? Can I not talk and ask because of the fact that I am an Indian? Do my wearing jeans and tshirt and sometimes a cap and clicking pictures make me any less Indian and I look like being from Africa, or America or Europe or Pakistan? The only explanation I can think of is that there are millions of India’s that exist with in the Indian Republic and each of those tiny India’s consider the others as a different country. With so much of diversity, such dilemma and identity crisis are bound to be there.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Accountability of a people’s servant
It was my 3rd visit to Krishi Mahotsav today. It was at Maithan, which meant I went down around 200 meters in terms of altitude, thus it was very warm there. Initially, I was sitting in shade, but my buddy sun wanted to see me, although I did not and thus began the game of hide and seek. Whenever a patch of my hand was under sun, I would move my chair a little towards left. In no time, I was almost stepping over the chair of old man sitting next to me, thus there was no left left! So I got rid of chair and came close to what we all become after death – soil! Although the sun chased me down there on ground ttoo, but now I was more absorbed in the conversation that was going on between the adhikari’s and the farmers. Farmers complained that adhikari’s were listening so much but there was none who was even taking down the suggestions. The speaking adhikari, dude from Horticulture department pointed to another adhikari Mr. Tamta sitting next to him saying that he was writing, seeing that the poor Mr. Tamta started opened a register kept on table, I hoped at least then he had started writing. Everybody was saying that unless there is something done on these suggestions, there is no use of such fancy events as ‘Sarkar Kisan Ke Dwar’.
Then came the golden idea in my head. I grabbed the mike, and in presence of Pradhan Ji, senior members of village, the chief guest, who was a wise farmer and ex-armyman (which explains why is he hardworking and smart farmer) from the same village and the adhikari’s, I said, “Why don’t’ we all give two months of time to the adhikari’s and ask them to send a written report to Pradhan Ji which will give brief on all the activities that have done on the suggestions”. I felt like telling the adhikari, “listen dude, deal is simple, if you belive in every word you speak today, just write it, sign it and give today’s date.” This changed the faces of adhikari’s. Spontaneously, in front of public, they could not say or do much other than nodding in yes, as it was under normal circumstance, the ideal thing. And why should not. When I work at a private company, my boss does ask me question like, ‘Rajeev, when can we hope to finish this’ or ‘where are we on that research task’. People in private sector have to give weekly reports. And in private sector, less number of people have their stakes. But here, 1 billion people are the bosses of the government adhikari’s, 1 billion people have their stakes in the adhikari’s work. These government adhikari’s are ideally the people’s servants. They work for government and the government is ‘for the’, ‘by the’ and ‘of the’ people. In fact Nehru mentioned on becoming the Prime Minister that he was happy to be the first servant of the people of free India. So, all government officers and employees should give a written promise when they assure to deliver something, and should give at least a monthly report on where they are. Else, flyovers and highways will continue to get constructed till eternity and we will never get to drive. New hospitals will continue to get erected, but people will also continue to die pre-mature death because of lack of medical facilities.
Then came the golden idea in my head. I grabbed the mike, and in presence of Pradhan Ji, senior members of village, the chief guest, who was a wise farmer and ex-armyman (which explains why is he hardworking and smart farmer) from the same village and the adhikari’s, I said, “Why don’t’ we all give two months of time to the adhikari’s and ask them to send a written report to Pradhan Ji which will give brief on all the activities that have done on the suggestions”. I felt like telling the adhikari, “listen dude, deal is simple, if you belive in every word you speak today, just write it, sign it and give today’s date.” This changed the faces of adhikari’s. Spontaneously, in front of public, they could not say or do much other than nodding in yes, as it was under normal circumstance, the ideal thing. And why should not. When I work at a private company, my boss does ask me question like, ‘Rajeev, when can we hope to finish this’ or ‘where are we on that research task’. People in private sector have to give weekly reports. And in private sector, less number of people have their stakes. But here, 1 billion people are the bosses of the government adhikari’s, 1 billion people have their stakes in the adhikari’s work. These government adhikari’s are ideally the people’s servants. They work for government and the government is ‘for the’, ‘by the’ and ‘of the’ people. In fact Nehru mentioned on becoming the Prime Minister that he was happy to be the first servant of the people of free India. So, all government officers and employees should give a written promise when they assure to deliver something, and should give at least a monthly report on where they are. Else, flyovers and highways will continue to get constructed till eternity and we will never get to drive. New hospitals will continue to get erected, but people will also continue to die pre-mature death because of lack of medical facilities.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Learnings from Swades - Education
I just read a small interview of a kid from SIDH. He studied in SIDH’s primary school. Now SIDH’s education is different from conventional education, because SIDH does not give education compartmentalized in different subjects through text books. It focuses education from within the village’s resources. A kid reads about trees, the occupation of people in village, the social structure in village etc.. and learns to express his understanding and learning through poems, essays, drawings and other creative forms.
Now when this kid applied for admission into government middle school, he was to write an exam. The syllabus and structure of the exam was little to alien to kid. In kid’s own words:
Now when this kid applied for admission into government middle school, he was to write an exam. The syllabus and structure of the exam was little to alien to kid. In kid’s own words:
Through our project work, we learnt about trees but also about life. We learnt to
write poems and stories. We learnt new words. We learnt to write letters to
friends and the elderly. However, in Hindi (understood as a subject to be learnt
for the Board examination) we had to learn seven poems by heart, we had to
learn about our country and about other countries. We had to read stories and
learn how to answer questions on the story. We had to learn how to summarize
the poems we learnt. We had to make sentences in Hindi and learn what is a
noun, pronoun, verb, subject, etc.
write poems and stories. We learnt new words. We learnt to write letters to
friends and the elderly. However, in Hindi (understood as a subject to be learnt
for the Board examination) we had to learn seven poems by heart, we had to
learn about our country and about other countries. We had to read stories and
learn how to answer questions on the story. We had to learn how to summarize
the poems we learnt. We had to make sentences in Hindi and learn what is a
noun, pronoun, verb, subject, etc.
[Taken from UNESCO Report on SIDH]
Now my question is why the kid has to forcefully learn about other countries or other cities/places in his own country? When I was in school, all through primary and middle school and even in class 9, I was made to absorb information about different countries, cities in world, many of which I could not locate on map until recently when I am 24. Do kids in Germany or Canada learn about India, its geography, its climate, its political structure? Many of the grown ups in other countries do not know even the four metro cities of India. Those who know often know them by colonial names of Madras and Bombay.
Is it just the question of developing countries knowing about developed ones? Will that be enough to justify our syllabus’s carrying writings on developed world while not the other way round? In this regard, I would like to quote Late Mr. Pramod Mahajan who I once met during the shoot of the Karan Thapar’s show ‘The Big Question’ on DD1. In response to question of one of the audience on the show, he said, “No, we can never take advantage of US, only they can take advantage of us.” But then we might as well go as far as saying why on earth do we need to learn another language called English? Of course, 99.999% of Indians learn English not out of interest but out of force or necessity. Here’s there’s a difference between force and necessity. When we were kids, we were not wise enough to know the need of a language, thus, we were forced to learn English. But, many people do courses like Rapidex English Speaking Course or some crash course from British council or Inlingua. That’s called necessity. It’s like me learning now at this age, French because I need a job in Paris or in French Embassy here. People might as well argue that because of English or know-how of western countries, we are doing good business and have advantage over many countries in Asia, who are left behind in this wave of outsourcing.
Or is something other than developed vs developing or strong vs weak? Is it that India is one of the few countries who have such education system, while others, irrespective of being developing or developed, eastern or western, rich or poor, have a curricula for school which encourages kids to learn about their place first, live in their place, develop it and then if he has interest, he can himself look for other countries on web, books, newspapers, magazines etc.?
Is it just the question of developing countries knowing about developed ones? Will that be enough to justify our syllabus’s carrying writings on developed world while not the other way round? In this regard, I would like to quote Late Mr. Pramod Mahajan who I once met during the shoot of the Karan Thapar’s show ‘The Big Question’ on DD1. In response to question of one of the audience on the show, he said, “No, we can never take advantage of US, only they can take advantage of us.” But then we might as well go as far as saying why on earth do we need to learn another language called English? Of course, 99.999% of Indians learn English not out of interest but out of force or necessity. Here’s there’s a difference between force and necessity. When we were kids, we were not wise enough to know the need of a language, thus, we were forced to learn English. But, many people do courses like Rapidex English Speaking Course or some crash course from British council or Inlingua. That’s called necessity. It’s like me learning now at this age, French because I need a job in Paris or in French Embassy here. People might as well argue that because of English or know-how of western countries, we are doing good business and have advantage over many countries in Asia, who are left behind in this wave of outsourcing.
Or is something other than developed vs developing or strong vs weak? Is it that India is one of the few countries who have such education system, while others, irrespective of being developing or developed, eastern or western, rich or poor, have a curricula for school which encourages kids to learn about their place first, live in their place, develop it and then if he has interest, he can himself look for other countries on web, books, newspapers, magazines etc.?
Morning Walk
Although the movie with the name was drab against the high hopes I raised, but the experience I had in the morning during walk was amazing. I was amazed to see how flexible my day is. I got up in the morning at 6 and felt very cold. It was like Tabu felt cold on her first morning in New York. She took a shawl out of trunk and wrapped around. Similarly, first thing I did after getting up in the morning was putting on jacket and a mufflour all around my neck and head and ears. I have been here for over a month now, but these days may be because I am in the spirit of namesake, I felt as new today here as Ashima Ganguly felt on her first day in New York. After guarding myself with woolen I paid visit to toilet. Sitting on shit pad, thoughts started arriving in my head, and I was little pissed off with that. At least in the morning, these thoughts should give me a break. I am yet to be done with morning call, and thoughts are trying to find room in my head. I really should start some form of meditation, I desperately need that. So I tried to flush the thoughts out by closing my eyes. I had brushed my teeth the previous night, so I did not feel as bad, as I would have otherwise felt. Closing my eyes, I felt that I should sleep more, but as I came in the room, I saw at clock and realized that I had slept 8 hours. Had I been in city, I would have rushed to bathroom or to stadium for running, or to gym, trying to waste as little time as possible. But now, here when there’s no hurry to do things, when there’s no deadline to meet, I just lazily got down on bed, eyes half closed, sometimes staring through the bluish surrounding outside of early morning, sometimes covering my head with quilt to avoid the light from the same window. In this pleasant cold, it is so pleasant to just lie down silently in semi-sleep state. At 6:30, I felt I am not getting any sleep anyway; I should get up and take a walk. When I was in Noida, my morning itself will start with confusion and indecisiveness. When my eyes open up in the morning, I would be wondering if I should sleep more or is it enough. Then when I decide I should sleep little more, then after few minutes of that semi-sleep state, I would struggle to confirm to myself if I am getting sleep or wasting time in bed. Now, here in the village, that state is less intense and I come to that point of beginning of struggle quite late. After I woke up completely, I put my earphones and sneakers on, and put camera in pocket and started walking. I was busy with thoughts and music in ears, but some part of me was also silently and pleasantly enjoying every breath of fresh air, of the sight of fluttering of leaves of very few non-pine trees which are lining the road. Soon I saw couple of school girls with big pair of flowers of white ribbons on their heads, which looked funny and cute on them. Sun had risen but it was beginning to bless this side of the hill. At some point, my walk was almost matching pace with that of sun in rising up here. So in few minutes, I was touched by the first rays. As I was walking up, sun started showing up, playing peek-a-boo through pine trees. And now was the rendezvous with sun, we were almost face to face. I was bathing in his warmth. Early morning sun and setting sun offer unique and pleasant warmth, which is not scorching. I was hearing the beautiful lullaby from Omkara, ‘Jag Jaa’, I started singing the same as if praying to Lord Sun. I took plenty of his pictures. He must be feeling shy of this paparazzo. As I walked forward and continued to hum I met this old frail man who I would often see while running. Today I stopped and talked to him. With the lens of my Canon SX110IS, I captured the contours of his face.
Each wrinkle on his face was telling a tale from his enormously long life. He knew little Hindi. Somehow, I find such folks in Garhwal, who do not know Hindi, from a different world. Their ancientness invokes curiosity in me. We had almost no common language, but still we managed to talk and enjoy each other's company! I used signs, little Hindi, he replied in little Hindi and more Garhwali, I smiled, he smiled,, sometimes must be feeling that I am stupid on simply smiling in response to his cryptic questions in Garhwali! I managed to learn that he had come to attend nature's call of the morning, somehow, the elderly still feel, "log bahar hone undar kyun jaate hain". One has to be from north India to appreciate that deadly one!
Each wrinkle on his face was telling a tale from his enormously long life. He knew little Hindi. Somehow, I find such folks in Garhwal, who do not know Hindi, from a different world. Their ancientness invokes curiosity in me. We had almost no common language, but still we managed to talk and enjoy each other's company! I used signs, little Hindi, he replied in little Hindi and more Garhwali, I smiled, he smiled,, sometimes must be feeling that I am stupid on simply smiling in response to his cryptic questions in Garhwali! I managed to learn that he had come to attend nature's call of the morning, somehow, the elderly still feel, "log bahar hone undar kyun jaate hain". One has to be from north India to appreciate that deadly one!
Saturday, June 27, 2009
From the eyes of an ant.
Every day I come to work, but I never observe myself while working. Just imagine an ant sitting in some corner of your cube, and gazing constantly at you every day. Here’s what an ant wrote in her diary about me.
This guy with different hairstyle comes everyday to this place. Then he sits silently and keeps banging some keys for most of his day. Sometimes, raises his head, he looks around, put the mouth of a bottle in his mouth, and then resumes staring at the colorful screen in front of him.
This guy with different hairstyle comes everyday to this place. Then he sits silently and keeps banging some keys for most of his day. Sometimes, raises his head, he looks around, put the mouth of a bottle in his mouth, and then resumes staring at the colorful screen in front of him.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Giving up on love
After so many love failures in the beginning, I am tired of all these chasing after chick games. I think I should quit now. If it has to happen, it will happen anyway. Love is not something you have to make efforts to find it. It’s not like clearing some exam or job interview that you will have to make efforts for. After all, this damn fist shaped thing in the left side of my body does not follow any of the written/ unwritten rules of human beings. It has its own language, grammar, codes – all of which is beyond comprehension of any one. And quitting is good. The efforts I was putting in this ‘seeking love’ process can be better used at work, where I do expect results to come out, as that work is a linear process. You work hard (albeit with some smartness), you get results, you get promotion, and you feel happy. But you go out, you strain your eyes in catching one glimpse of that b’ful gal, or you are driving, you see a gorgeous face in car going next to you, you try to maintain speed with her vehicle, only to discover that while you were having great start of morning in admiring beauty, you ran into another vehicle in your front, or you got challaned for over-speeding! So I have decided now, I will not give second looks to a girl. It all begins with that second look. Your sight happens to fall on some sweet gal, next you give second look, then you follow her, try to find out details, if successful after lot of hard-work, you get her number, and if lucky, you will get coffee date, but all these come with an expiry date of 3rd date, after which it’s a break up, as she announces, “I got engaged!!”. Did I hear from someone now, ‘well it never started in the first place’? Well at least for cupid-hearted-extra-romantic fellows like me, it already started from that second look . Hence proved no second look => no love lorn hearts.
Irony, as I conclude this brief, mere naina dhoonde mere naina ko. Will this heart ever stop beating for someone else? I know realize how much sense those non-sense movies ‘Dil to Pagal Hai’ and ‘Dil hai ki manta nahi’ make.
Irony, as I conclude this brief, mere naina dhoonde mere naina ko. Will this heart ever stop beating for someone else? I know realize how much sense those non-sense movies ‘Dil to Pagal Hai’ and ‘Dil hai ki manta nahi’ make.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Uncle Uncle Uncle
Uncle Uncle Uncle
Of late when I meet some married acquaintance of mine, I am getting a new tag – ‘Uncle’. When ever I visit his/her family, the kids address me as uncle. Or that friend will ask the kid to ‘say hello to uncle’. I remember when Papa’s friend Sanjay ‘uncle’ used to visit us, we would call him uncle only, and he used to be of same age as I am today, and he too was unmarried. In fact, there were lots of Papa’s friends who were uncles for us. So for my married friends, it’s perfectly fine for them to find an uncle in me for their kids. But I fail to find a fixed point in time line when I made this transition from ‘Bhaiyya’ to ‘Uncle’. Or was it rather a gradual transition? Whatever it may be, it hurts to feel I have aged. A ‘Chaachu’ might have felt pleasant and less age defining! But then it would have become a formal relationship in Indian set up, whereas ‘Uncle’ is a freeway relationship, you get in and get out as and when convenient!
But the uncle episode gives me one more reason to run away to US of A, where everyone other than father is uncle/sir. And when you are not addressing someone by uncle, you address him by his name, even if he is your step dad of twice your age, “Hey Bob, didn’t Mom come with you today?”
Of late when I meet some married acquaintance of mine, I am getting a new tag – ‘Uncle’. When ever I visit his/her family, the kids address me as uncle. Or that friend will ask the kid to ‘say hello to uncle’. I remember when Papa’s friend Sanjay ‘uncle’ used to visit us, we would call him uncle only, and he used to be of same age as I am today, and he too was unmarried. In fact, there were lots of Papa’s friends who were uncles for us. So for my married friends, it’s perfectly fine for them to find an uncle in me for their kids. But I fail to find a fixed point in time line when I made this transition from ‘Bhaiyya’ to ‘Uncle’. Or was it rather a gradual transition? Whatever it may be, it hurts to feel I have aged. A ‘Chaachu’ might have felt pleasant and less age defining! But then it would have become a formal relationship in Indian set up, whereas ‘Uncle’ is a freeway relationship, you get in and get out as and when convenient!
But the uncle episode gives me one more reason to run away to US of A, where everyone other than father is uncle/sir. And when you are not addressing someone by uncle, you address him by his name, even if he is your step dad of twice your age, “Hey Bob, didn’t Mom come with you today?”
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
How much is too much?
How much is too much?
We often start liking someone or something too much. But sometimes we go so far in liking that we start getting bored of it. It’s like too much of sugar in pudding is also distasteful. I used to like Rajbhog a lot. Every time I go out for eating, I would invariably have Rajbhog as sweet dish or in dessert. But now I feel sick of it. Mere sight of it pushes me towards throwing up. Similar experiences with couple of other things and people make me wonder, in the process of cuddling something, when do we realize the point beyond which our affection for that thing takes a downward curve?
I have been listening to Raag Tilak Kamod a lot. I listend to all its versions I could find online – instrumental – shehnai, sarod, sitar; vocals – by many different artisits; and even film songs which were purely in this raag. When I get up after a nap, often the first words are the lyrics of this lovely song, ‘neer bharan kaise jaaon’ in raag tilak kamod. Now I have started having fear if I should stop liking it so much lest I should grow dislike for this beautiful music too? Does that love hate relationship hold true for music too? Can we possibly stop liking something ourselves voluntarily? Is there an on/off button for it? And if not, what about the pain when the other party in the liking process becomes unavailable or start disliking me? What if I love chicken and there’s a bird flu? What if I am madly in love with someone, but she magically finds out that button to stop liking me?
PEACE
PS: kehet Ravi Jain suno bhai saadhu.. at least in a relationship (including friendship), if we manage to come out of that downward curve once.. then begins a never ending upward curve of eternally blissful relationship.
We often start liking someone or something too much. But sometimes we go so far in liking that we start getting bored of it. It’s like too much of sugar in pudding is also distasteful. I used to like Rajbhog a lot. Every time I go out for eating, I would invariably have Rajbhog as sweet dish or in dessert. But now I feel sick of it. Mere sight of it pushes me towards throwing up. Similar experiences with couple of other things and people make me wonder, in the process of cuddling something, when do we realize the point beyond which our affection for that thing takes a downward curve?
I have been listening to Raag Tilak Kamod a lot. I listend to all its versions I could find online – instrumental – shehnai, sarod, sitar; vocals – by many different artisits; and even film songs which were purely in this raag. When I get up after a nap, often the first words are the lyrics of this lovely song, ‘neer bharan kaise jaaon’ in raag tilak kamod. Now I have started having fear if I should stop liking it so much lest I should grow dislike for this beautiful music too? Does that love hate relationship hold true for music too? Can we possibly stop liking something ourselves voluntarily? Is there an on/off button for it? And if not, what about the pain when the other party in the liking process becomes unavailable or start disliking me? What if I love chicken and there’s a bird flu? What if I am madly in love with someone, but she magically finds out that button to stop liking me?
PEACE
PS: kehet Ravi Jain suno bhai saadhu.. at least in a relationship (including friendship), if we manage to come out of that downward curve once.. then begins a never ending upward curve of eternally blissful relationship.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
BhaiSaahib
It was Saturday morning, I was goin back to home after a tennis game, when I saw Sandeep Laxmi Sri Pada, my colleague, getting down from a rickshaw. He addressed rickshaw puller as “bhai saab”. That was a first to me. I never heard any rickshaw puller being called ‘bhai saab’. I don’t know whether it was out of respect, or Sandeep would use this for any stranger. Nor do I want to generalize that all people of Andhra of south India are polite with others. All I am saying is that it was a pleasant sight. That rickshaw puller must have felt happy. In fact we should call every one – plumber, mechanic, waiter, maid – as bhai saab, and do away the north-indian, “Bhaiyya”, that way, Marathi’s in general and Raj Thakeray in particular would also not be offended as they keep complaining that bhaiyya’s from UP and Bihar intrude Maharashtra.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Eastern Purity
It all triggered with the morning visit to Mother Dairy today. I saw a gentle man putting a white hanky on his head as he approached a small gurudwara. A very small gurudwara which might as well resemble a house. He closed his eyes and stood there at the gate for few moments. The faith that I saw he had in god, and the faith in that minute he spent there was overwhelming. I have waited many times outside temples for my friends offering prayer inside, or waiting in queue [temples around Jama Masjid attract huge crowd] for their turn to offer prayer. Generally this happens on Tuesdays. I don’t have any issue getting inside an have a word with almighty, but I enjoy more waiting outside, I get the delight to watch! Last Tuesday, I saw Prateek standing quietly with closed eyes and folded hands, as I waited outside. The innocence on his face and the faith that the situation exhibited was enough for me get that rare standard emotion, “I wanna die here.” That’s how I felt when I saw Darjeeling for the first time or when I saw river Ganga in Rishikesh. These feelings are inexplicable by a word but I would like to coin a phrase, “eastern purity”. This is what I find most appealing about Asia and more so about India. The mandir, the masjid, the ganga, the flute, the Hindustani classical music, the morning, the sitar, the feminism – all these go into formation of ‘eastern purity’. Everyday, I see some lacunae around me to crib about India. But whenever this sense of ‘eastern purity’ prevails over my head, all cribbing fade away.
Monday, February 02, 2009
My (mis)adventure with sports
I have written enough lecture about road discipline, humanity, cleanliness etc., etc., so let me not bore you with the preaching. I will write now of sports, particularly my misadventure with sports.
Cricket. – FORTE FOR MOST OF YOU
First a confession: I have no interest in cricket what so ever. I can’t even list the 11 players of Indian team and this has always been a constant source of embarrassment, more so when girls discuss about certain match and I am dumb. Hence, I have been accused at time of not being a true Indian.
When I was in class 3 or 4, my parents bought me new bat from. Next morning I went to some park with kids from our neighborhood to play cricket. Not just I was denied any chance of batting, I forgot to collect my bat while coming back only to come home to hear, “you are not going to play with those kids again”
As I grew up, I would try to go to park with another set of kids, as our home was shifted. While fielding I always used to pray that ball should not come to me, because when I would try catch ball, I would get to hear this from you, “you think ball is gonna lovingly come to your arms, why don’t you move.” I think I was little like Rohan Awasthi of Taare Zamin pe! By the time I was in class 8, I was too conscious of that disapprobation administered to me! So I stopped playing cricket. Forever. But later when I was in college, I had really awesome friends (read ramjane , kumar!) who would invite me to play and give me batting. I would be invariably bowled out in a maximum of 3-4 balls.
I had much fervor for batting until recently; I would trade with kids near my home the kites that land on my roof, for chance of batting.
Oh my god! I just revealed to you guys that I don’t know flying kites either..
Okhay enough of dhoni and ganguly..
Basket Ball
In school, I attended coaching for sometime, and most of the times, coach would exhaust me in the warm up itself. But things changed dramatically when I went into college, I thought that now I m in the best college in the country, what more do I want. Now I will do everything and anything I like, one of them being basket ball. So I was there on court on 3rd day in college, without fear of ragging! I was sincere at practice, would come to court at correct time. One day we were playing zone defence. I was playing centre, when suddenly the coach came on me and said, “what the hell are you doing, you don’t have brains ? You think by jumping like monkey, you can bloc the offence” and little more he said. You guys might be thinking I was this close to tears, but I actually was very close to bursting into pearls of laughter, but that wasn’t visible on my face which was inexplicably grim at that time. So seniors told after the coach left, ‘kid is finally ragged’.
Of all the sports I liked basket ball most, but somehow couldn’t be regular , may be because wasn’t doing good at it. Once in several matches I would get to shoot, mostly I would pass the ball, but sometimes I would become selfish and attempt, and very rarely those will convert into basket, and those ephemeral moments would drive me for the next few days. In my 7th semester, I made it to waiting list of team! I was very happy as that mail containing the list for Inter IIT basket ball team players was sent to all. But the wait turned out to be eternal as none of the permanent players fall ill before tournament.
Athletics and others.
I took up athletics in college only. In fact I was never more serious about sports than in college. I worked for long jump, and 100 metres, again for the annual Inter IIT sports Meet. As far as physical efforts were considered, the task was quite demanding, and I was putting my best foot in. finally I the day of selections came, I borrowed my friend’s boots. I missed tutorial class to attend the selections. But could not measure up to the coach’s expectations, so was told, “try next time… goodluck” and walked back from that vast athletic field.
Before attainting myself anymore, I will conclude, I have had been an outstanding sports man, I mostly stand outside the team .
Cricket. – FORTE FOR MOST OF YOU
First a confession: I have no interest in cricket what so ever. I can’t even list the 11 players of Indian team and this has always been a constant source of embarrassment, more so when girls discuss about certain match and I am dumb. Hence, I have been accused at time of not being a true Indian.
When I was in class 3 or 4, my parents bought me new bat from. Next morning I went to some park with kids from our neighborhood to play cricket. Not just I was denied any chance of batting, I forgot to collect my bat while coming back only to come home to hear, “you are not going to play with those kids again”
As I grew up, I would try to go to park with another set of kids, as our home was shifted. While fielding I always used to pray that ball should not come to me, because when I would try catch ball, I would get to hear this from you, “you think ball is gonna lovingly come to your arms, why don’t you move.” I think I was little like Rohan Awasthi of Taare Zamin pe! By the time I was in class 8, I was too conscious of that disapprobation administered to me! So I stopped playing cricket. Forever. But later when I was in college, I had really awesome friends (read ramjane , kumar!) who would invite me to play and give me batting. I would be invariably bowled out in a maximum of 3-4 balls.
I had much fervor for batting until recently; I would trade with kids near my home the kites that land on my roof, for chance of batting.
Oh my god! I just revealed to you guys that I don’t know flying kites either..
Okhay enough of dhoni and ganguly..
Basket Ball
In school, I attended coaching for sometime, and most of the times, coach would exhaust me in the warm up itself. But things changed dramatically when I went into college, I thought that now I m in the best college in the country, what more do I want. Now I will do everything and anything I like, one of them being basket ball. So I was there on court on 3rd day in college, without fear of ragging! I was sincere at practice, would come to court at correct time. One day we were playing zone defence. I was playing centre, when suddenly the coach came on me and said, “what the hell are you doing, you don’t have brains ? You think by jumping like monkey, you can bloc the offence” and little more he said. You guys might be thinking I was this close to tears, but I actually was very close to bursting into pearls of laughter, but that wasn’t visible on my face which was inexplicably grim at that time. So seniors told after the coach left, ‘kid is finally ragged’.
Of all the sports I liked basket ball most, but somehow couldn’t be regular , may be because wasn’t doing good at it. Once in several matches I would get to shoot, mostly I would pass the ball, but sometimes I would become selfish and attempt, and very rarely those will convert into basket, and those ephemeral moments would drive me for the next few days. In my 7th semester, I made it to waiting list of team! I was very happy as that mail containing the list for Inter IIT basket ball team players was sent to all. But the wait turned out to be eternal as none of the permanent players fall ill before tournament.
Athletics and others.
I took up athletics in college only. In fact I was never more serious about sports than in college. I worked for long jump, and 100 metres, again for the annual Inter IIT sports Meet. As far as physical efforts were considered, the task was quite demanding, and I was putting my best foot in. finally I the day of selections came, I borrowed my friend’s boots. I missed tutorial class to attend the selections. But could not measure up to the coach’s expectations, so was told, “try next time… goodluck” and walked back from that vast athletic field.
Before attainting myself anymore, I will conclude, I have had been an outstanding sports man, I mostly stand outside the team .
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