He was then fifteen. He was a silent boy, thoughtful; and the quietness in his deep grey eyes seemed to me like a promise of warmth and understanding I had never known. There was a tightness in my chest, because it hurt to be shut out from the world of simple kindness he lived in. I sat there, opposite him, and said to myself that I had known him all my life and yet until this moment had never understood what he was. I looked at those extra-ordinarily clear eyes, that were like water over grey pebbles, I gazed and gazed, until he gave me a slow direct look which showed he knew I had been staring. It was like a warning, as if a door had been shut.
- Doris Lessing,
Flavours of exile.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The Good Governance
As India plunges into nationwide Lok Sabha and Assembly polls this month, my small standing in the country, as her citizen, has suddenly become a hot topic. Why? Because I can vote and suddenly, I am in demand.
But like me, many others who stay away from their hometown and won't be able to make it in time to vote, will lose their chance. Then, many others will stay away for no party seems just right. Then again, many will vote not for a just candidate, but for the caste he belongs to.
Good governance. That's what we want at the end of this mad rat race.
BJP has a huge flipside because of the hardline, anti-minority image it has created for itself. It banks on the good governance bit though.
However, a good governance cannot be reached till a country is plagued time and again with separatist agenda. It cannot be reached till churches are attacked, Muslims and Sikhs are killed in riots and girls are beaten up, told what they should do or wear. It cannot be achieved till a political party decides what suits Hindutva and what does not.
Good governance cannot be achieved till we allow religion and caste to come out of our homes and entangle with everything and anything. There should be a demarcating line between your religion and your being a good citizen. Till we continue to mix the two to dangerous outcomes, we and our future generation won't be in a comfortable state of existence.
Good governance cannot also be reached till we keep on banking on reservation status instead of merit and intellect. Yes, good governance cannot be achieved by the carrot of reservation, when basic primary education is muddled with lax teaching policies, fatal corporal punishments and finding rats in mid-day meals. On the same lines, good governance cannot be achieved by finding an easy way out, by patronising health biscuits to do away with the responsibility of cooking a hygienic mid-day meal.
Good governance cannot be brought on sentimentality and emotions. Politicians are cunning, corrupt, divisive. And so, junta should be shrewd, opportunistic and manipulative to ultimately get what it wants. And wants should be prioritized well.
Good governance needs to start from the way down. It has been a long, tiresome wait. We are still waiting...
But like me, many others who stay away from their hometown and won't be able to make it in time to vote, will lose their chance. Then, many others will stay away for no party seems just right. Then again, many will vote not for a just candidate, but for the caste he belongs to.
Good governance. That's what we want at the end of this mad rat race.
BJP has a huge flipside because of the hardline, anti-minority image it has created for itself. It banks on the good governance bit though.
However, a good governance cannot be reached till a country is plagued time and again with separatist agenda. It cannot be reached till churches are attacked, Muslims and Sikhs are killed in riots and girls are beaten up, told what they should do or wear. It cannot be achieved till a political party decides what suits Hindutva and what does not.
Good governance cannot be achieved till we allow religion and caste to come out of our homes and entangle with everything and anything. There should be a demarcating line between your religion and your being a good citizen. Till we continue to mix the two to dangerous outcomes, we and our future generation won't be in a comfortable state of existence.
Good governance cannot also be reached till we keep on banking on reservation status instead of merit and intellect. Yes, good governance cannot be achieved by the carrot of reservation, when basic primary education is muddled with lax teaching policies, fatal corporal punishments and finding rats in mid-day meals. On the same lines, good governance cannot be achieved by finding an easy way out, by patronising health biscuits to do away with the responsibility of cooking a hygienic mid-day meal.
Good governance cannot be brought on sentimentality and emotions. Politicians are cunning, corrupt, divisive. And so, junta should be shrewd, opportunistic and manipulative to ultimately get what it wants. And wants should be prioritized well.
Good governance needs to start from the way down. It has been a long, tiresome wait. We are still waiting...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Of maids and earrings
Has it ever happened to you? That nagging guilt. You cannot find a costly earring, or think some cash is missing from your wallet. Zoooppp--- you lose no second in doubting the maid. In a second, guilt envelopes you. It makes you feel low and mean. And yet, doubt stands by stubbornly. You are crushed with two opposite, very strong emotions. The maid comes and goes and you eye her each moment, guiltily, stealthily, nervously. You think you are a bitch to do what you are doing and yet you can't decide whether to doubt, feel guilty or ask. What adds to the trouble is that you are no great sharp head yourself. You must have lost the earring or spent the cash on a glass of cold drink. You spend the rest of the day brooding over the loss. More so, you spend the rest of the day over loss of faith and plunge into complicated realms of morality. The next day, you try to ease your guilt by asking the maid to leave the clothes and just do the dishes. A bigger pile to wash the next day, you fool.
Or has it ever occurred to you that you are being used just like the rag she uses to mop the floor? You don't follow her about the house, watch her every move or nag her every other minute to wipe this corner or that. You believe she will do her work well and fair and don't interfere. And then you discover dusty corners, dishes not done well. You tell her gently to do things right and she doesn't reply back. She never does. She simply does what she feels like in one hour dot and leaves just as lazily and she came. And every few months a big tragedy falls on her house and you find yourself handing away one extra advance payment after the other. The work remains just as mediocre. Why should you ask work in return of help, you ask yourself. But why not, a more practical, slightly dark side instantly quips. Yes, why not. You are again down with two conflicting thoughts and end up feeling a perfect fool.
And scene no. 1 has many possible answers. After a fortnight, you find the earring from a forgotten box in the safe. Or, your maid comes wearing it absentmindedly and either owns up when you ask (if you ask) or cooks up a fabulous story that can put David Dhawan to shame...
Or has it ever occurred to you that you are being used just like the rag she uses to mop the floor? You don't follow her about the house, watch her every move or nag her every other minute to wipe this corner or that. You believe she will do her work well and fair and don't interfere. And then you discover dusty corners, dishes not done well. You tell her gently to do things right and she doesn't reply back. She never does. She simply does what she feels like in one hour dot and leaves just as lazily and she came. And every few months a big tragedy falls on her house and you find yourself handing away one extra advance payment after the other. The work remains just as mediocre. Why should you ask work in return of help, you ask yourself. But why not, a more practical, slightly dark side instantly quips. Yes, why not. You are again down with two conflicting thoughts and end up feeling a perfect fool.
And scene no. 1 has many possible answers. After a fortnight, you find the earring from a forgotten box in the safe. Or, your maid comes wearing it absentmindedly and either owns up when you ask (if you ask) or cooks up a fabulous story that can put David Dhawan to shame...
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Simple steps to happiness
Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
How less they demand. And how much they give back...
My mother's love for gardens was instrumental in making us shift from a flat right in the city, to a house on the outskirts. She nurtured rose beds and creepers that gave huge orange flowers. She grew bhindi (ladies fingers) and brinjals and we were trusted with the task to collect them. The bhindis grew so much that we began gifting neighbours and family with the produce. After a time, we complained of 'garden fresh bhindi' she thrust down our throat in every possible form. Bhindi stir fried, bhindi with vegetables, bhindi with kadhi. Bhindi, bhindi, bhindi.
Those were the days when our garden had gone mad with a sudden flush of fertility. Everything grew and bloomed and blossomed. The Sona (Kanchan or Bauhinia purpurea) she planted all those years back is now a tree and covers the lawn with bright pink petals every winter.
When I moved here in Kolkata, I had a faint image of the kind of house I wanted. I wanted to recreate Ahmedabad in the small space I had. I bought lots of plants, only to realize I was either duped with bad cuts or the good ones just died due to watering too scant or too much.
When I set my eyes on this Adenium plant in the nursery, I knew I wanted it. It was costly and after some haggling, with both the nurserywala and my husband, I got it home. It has stuck. We have made some emergency visits to the nurserywala when the leaves turned soggy in winter. It was left in his care for a fortnight. This plant tends to go a little weak when it rains a lot or in cold. The nurserywala had told me told water it once a week. And so I did, only to realize that the plump obese stem (from which it gets its scientific name Adenium obesum) was shrinking away.
A person selling manure shook his head in disapproval when I told him this. "Water it daily, you understand. With this hot weather, how can you feed it just once a week." And he put some packets in my hand with precise instructions. That was about four months back. The leaves had developed some worrying spots then. I was keeping my fingers crossed after the medicine, manure and plenty of water routine. Last year, the flowers were great too, but now, they seem to have a new life. This year the bloom has been extravagant...
Click here to read the description.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Belief and Technique for Modern Prose
Jack Kerouac is a writer I got to know of through various blogs. I came across his name on the profiles of many bloggers and finally bought myself a copy of On the Road. I am half way through the book, but for some reason, it is not the kind I finish reading in one go (like Persepolis or Broken April)...
I wouldn't quite keep On the Road in my list of favourites, for the escapades seem too random and directionless. Yes, the writing is racy — and my reserve may be simply because of a totally different culture — the 'beat generation' that I can't quite readily digest.
Nevertheless, I found these 30 points listed by him very interesting:
Belief and Technique for Modern Prose, a list of thirty "essentials."
1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for your own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside your own house
4. Be in love with your life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yrself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven
I wouldn't quite keep On the Road in my list of favourites, for the escapades seem too random and directionless. Yes, the writing is racy — and my reserve may be simply because of a totally different culture — the 'beat generation' that I can't quite readily digest.
Nevertheless, I found these 30 points listed by him very interesting:
Belief and Technique for Modern Prose, a list of thirty "essentials."
1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for your own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside your own house
4. Be in love with your life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yrself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Holi...
For more than three years now, I have been away from home during all the major festivals. I sorely miss the festivities in Ahmedabad, especially Navratri and Uttrayan. Diwali, which always used to be a quiet, foodie affair, doesn't even make its presence felt here in Kolkata. There, we had a good 20 day holiday in school and college, here it's only one day of Kali Puja.
On my way back home just now, I passed by holi pyres at almost all the crossroads. Most fires were dying down, one or two were still ablaze. I remembered the story of Prahlad and how he embraced the Holika chanting the name of God. How the ant changed to God himself and saved him.
We used to offer raw green mangoes in the flames, also coconuts and dhaani (popcorn) after the usual pradakshina. "Don't eat the mangoes before Holi, you will catch your throat," warned Indiraben everytime. And then, when the flames died out, I remember scouting for roasted coconuts with other kids once. I don't have very pleasant memories of the mad colour play, except for the very first time in our new colony. I must have been seven or eight then. But it's the evening fire a day before dhuleti that has always been very special.
Those dying fires in the middle of the night made me want to rush back home and listen from aaji the stories of victory of good over evil and all such things.
On my way back home just now, I passed by holi pyres at almost all the crossroads. Most fires were dying down, one or two were still ablaze. I remembered the story of Prahlad and how he embraced the Holika chanting the name of God. How the ant changed to God himself and saved him.
We used to offer raw green mangoes in the flames, also coconuts and dhaani (popcorn) after the usual pradakshina. "Don't eat the mangoes before Holi, you will catch your throat," warned Indiraben everytime. And then, when the flames died out, I remember scouting for roasted coconuts with other kids once. I don't have very pleasant memories of the mad colour play, except for the very first time in our new colony. I must have been seven or eight then. But it's the evening fire a day before dhuleti that has always been very special.
Those dying fires in the middle of the night made me want to rush back home and listen from aaji the stories of victory of good over evil and all such things.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Some necklaces I made
Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
I got hooked to making jewellery sometime in FY, college. Then I used the wires, threads and beads I got from Matcheswala (a store in Ahmedabad)and made a huge batch of earrings and necklaces.. Even held an impromptu exhibition and sale. That was a wonderful day, friends came over at the small house, we had a party of sorts and some sale :). The major turning point for my jewellery-making compulsion was a trip to Ajmer and and the Pushkar fair... There, to my joy, were many sellers squatted on the road, selling all kinds of beads. My sister and cousins had a tough time dragging me from the footpaths, for I used to squat by almost all the roadside sellers, haggle a lot and as I am choosy when it comes to beads, hop from one seller to another to get just the kind...
Cut back to Ahmedabad. On the secluded university road, sat a beadwala. He mainly had those square beads with letters written on them (they were a rage then). You could get him to make keychains or necklaces with names out of those... He also had some other nice beads and on one day, when I had a lot of time on hands, I sat there and asked him to show all the variety he had... I was thoroughly impressed and at once wanted all those... Somehow, I don't know how, I managed to cajole him into selling me his entire collection and there I was-- with bags of beads(many which I have used in the necklaces shown here)...At the time he sold off his stuff, he was planning to quit what he called a 'measly means of income' and get into something quick and risky... We chatted for a long time, and he was hell bent on giving it all up and running away somewhere. His name was Raj and I sometimes wonder where and how he is...
My interest in making my own jewellery has since then led me to markets in Hyderabad, to a Mumbai wholesale market and to the little-known narrow lanes of Kolkata. Now, my necklaces are far more finished than the FY days. (Matcheswala wires used to rust after 7-8 months!) I am not sure if all these details about beads and jewellery interest you... In college, Minal used to tease me and mimic 'Bhaiyya, aapke paas koi beads hai?" everytime she saw me, knowing my compulsive obsession with looking for new beads at handicrafts fairs... So that's how it goes...
I feel I am lucky to have chanced by a desire to make something and thankful for the day when I thought, "Damn, this jewellery is too expensive, even I can make it!" and started my bead-hunt... I am sure it's a passion that's going to last a lifetime...
You can read the short description of each necklace here
Do tell me how you liked the stuff...
Monday, February 09, 2009
Dev D
I wanted to see this film ever since I read TOI had given it 5 stars. Unprecedented!
Dev D is entertaining, sad, funny, contemporary, bold. It's witty, vulgar and charming. It's demanding, for the film cannot be described without using far too many adjectives.
The thing that amused me was that I found Paro more slutty than Chanda.
Chanda, the prostitute has an icy dignity about herself, a mysterious shield that keeps her happy in spite of being pained, focused in spite of having reasons to destroy herself. And she has the sweetest smile I have seen in ages. Her business she handles with thorough professionalism — the multi-lingual sex talk was impressive...
Kalki Koechlin must be congratulated for a wonderful debut.
The film had a nauseating aura of sorrow laced with humour, of the pangs of urban life. From MMS scandals, to BMW road rage, to drugs and booze, to sex trade, everything that we know in third person through newspapers comes alive on the screen in a manner sensitive and well-thought over.
We ran to buy the tickets of Luck By Chance as soon as Dev D ended. Seeing two films back to back momentarily helped ease the impact of Dev D. But when I slept the two films over, the next morning Dev D came out a sure winner.
In comparison, Luck By Chance is a typically entertaining, a quite predictable film.
Dev D is snappy, unpredictable and immensely relevant. It's a smart film, it's wholesomely entertaining. Don't go with your parents to see it though, you might have to fake blushes when you are really enjoying a dirty dialogue.
PS: I think it deserves the 5 stars. What do you think?
Dev D is entertaining, sad, funny, contemporary, bold. It's witty, vulgar and charming. It's demanding, for the film cannot be described without using far too many adjectives.
The thing that amused me was that I found Paro more slutty than Chanda.
Chanda, the prostitute has an icy dignity about herself, a mysterious shield that keeps her happy in spite of being pained, focused in spite of having reasons to destroy herself. And she has the sweetest smile I have seen in ages. Her business she handles with thorough professionalism — the multi-lingual sex talk was impressive...
Kalki Koechlin must be congratulated for a wonderful debut.
The film had a nauseating aura of sorrow laced with humour, of the pangs of urban life. From MMS scandals, to BMW road rage, to drugs and booze, to sex trade, everything that we know in third person through newspapers comes alive on the screen in a manner sensitive and well-thought over.
We ran to buy the tickets of Luck By Chance as soon as Dev D ended. Seeing two films back to back momentarily helped ease the impact of Dev D. But when I slept the two films over, the next morning Dev D came out a sure winner.
In comparison, Luck By Chance is a typically entertaining, a quite predictable film.
Dev D is snappy, unpredictable and immensely relevant. It's a smart film, it's wholesomely entertaining. Don't go with your parents to see it though, you might have to fake blushes when you are really enjoying a dirty dialogue.
PS: I think it deserves the 5 stars. What do you think?
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Enraged and tired, Borivali commuters finally protest
Angry commuters at Borivali station in Mumbai have blocked all trains on the station for more than four hours now. Harried rush from one platform to the other due to last minute diversion of local trains had already irked them no bounds and a sudden cancellation of a local at 9.10 am on Wednesday was a trigger. They demand more trains and better management. (A report)
Their fury was piling up, after gross mismanagement and discomfort when extra train platforms were added. As the news goes, their trouble started in August. This article, Railway woes for Borivali residents, throws light on what is behind the impromptu fury.
From what angry protestors say and the TOI report, this is what enrages the Mumbai commuter:
1) The railways needed more platforms to run more trains from Borivali
2) With no space available, they extended the platform number 1
3) Platform number 7 and 8 were introduced.
4) There is no exit point on platform no 8
5) So, Commuters who get off at platform 8 have to walk for at least 10 minutes to get out on the road.
6) Trains schedules are frequently and suddenly changed
7) Commuters complain that often a train supposed to come at platform number 1 is suddenly diverted to platform 8, they have to walk a good kilometre
8) Crowd of more than one or two trains gathers at platforms, making the walk slow and tedious.
9) Many miss their trains thus.
The fact that railways wanted to increase trains and so introduced new platforms is a silver lining. It is possible for a system as massive as the Indian railways to come across some glitches— after all, local trains do their bit in accomplishing the 'Six Sigma' services of Mumbai dabbawalas, as with being the chosen mode of transport for millions of Mumbai residents. But if inconvenience becomes the order of the day, a protest as this, is a natural consequence.
I remember reading somewhere on a blog, a writing so emotional and candid, about an incident on a Mumbai local. I don't even remember if it was a post or a comment, but someone had talked about a girl who sold rubber bands and earrings in the local . With an infant tucked to her, she was negotiating the crowd to sell her stuff.
Someone was haggling a lot and she, otherwise quiet and aloof, suddenly ran up a temper. "Saala do rupiye ke liye chik chik karta hai, mat khareedo."
The blogger apparently asked her something and she replied, 'Maa mar gayee, ab se ise leke aana padega".
And then I have heard there are women who have their kitty parties, haldi-kunkoo on the train. Who cut vegetables for the evening meal on the train. Who get up at four in the morning to cook for the family before boarding a train at six. I always linked Mumbai with its crazy fast life and local trains. This news somehow brought all these unrelated things I have heard or read about the trains.
The first time I was to board a local, I was quite scared. My cousin was like, "Gauritai, don't worry, you simply have to be there and ensure there's a crowd behind you. The mob will push you in and the mob will push you out."
Their fury was piling up, after gross mismanagement and discomfort when extra train platforms were added. As the news goes, their trouble started in August. This article, Railway woes for Borivali residents, throws light on what is behind the impromptu fury.
From what angry protestors say and the TOI report, this is what enrages the Mumbai commuter:
1) The railways needed more platforms to run more trains from Borivali
2) With no space available, they extended the platform number 1
3) Platform number 7 and 8 were introduced.
4) There is no exit point on platform no 8
5) So, Commuters who get off at platform 8 have to walk for at least 10 minutes to get out on the road.
6) Trains schedules are frequently and suddenly changed
7) Commuters complain that often a train supposed to come at platform number 1 is suddenly diverted to platform 8, they have to walk a good kilometre
8) Crowd of more than one or two trains gathers at platforms, making the walk slow and tedious.
9) Many miss their trains thus.
The fact that railways wanted to increase trains and so introduced new platforms is a silver lining. It is possible for a system as massive as the Indian railways to come across some glitches— after all, local trains do their bit in accomplishing the 'Six Sigma' services of Mumbai dabbawalas, as with being the chosen mode of transport for millions of Mumbai residents. But if inconvenience becomes the order of the day, a protest as this, is a natural consequence.
***
I remember reading somewhere on a blog, a writing so emotional and candid, about an incident on a Mumbai local. I don't even remember if it was a post or a comment, but someone had talked about a girl who sold rubber bands and earrings in the local . With an infant tucked to her, she was negotiating the crowd to sell her stuff.
Someone was haggling a lot and she, otherwise quiet and aloof, suddenly ran up a temper. "Saala do rupiye ke liye chik chik karta hai, mat khareedo."
The blogger apparently asked her something and she replied, 'Maa mar gayee, ab se ise leke aana padega".
And then I have heard there are women who have their kitty parties, haldi-kunkoo on the train. Who cut vegetables for the evening meal on the train. Who get up at four in the morning to cook for the family before boarding a train at six. I always linked Mumbai with its crazy fast life and local trains. This news somehow brought all these unrelated things I have heard or read about the trains.
The first time I was to board a local, I was quite scared. My cousin was like, "Gauritai, don't worry, you simply have to be there and ensure there's a crowd behind you. The mob will push you in and the mob will push you out."
Friday, January 30, 2009
The shoeflower that blossomed two days too late
I wanted this flower to blossom before parents left for Mumbai. But like the innumerable things I want that evade me, this was not to be. It bloomed today, exactly two days later than it was supposed to.
Supposed to? Anyways... It would have been really nice if it had blossomed two days before, so that I would have proved that I do indeed water my plants and the nurserywala does not manage to cheat me each single time.
Coming to think of it, Shoe flower is such an inapt name for a flower as lovely as this. Anyone knows why is it called so?
Mummy's lovebird birds now have three chicks. When I told someone this, he said I make the birds sound like mammals. The new female lovebird I got is as crazy as she can get. She has her seeds swinging upside down from the jhula. She pecks the male innumerable times when he silently eats his food and works up a frenzy when he chooses to ignore her. She bit me real hard when I was putting her in the cage and thank God for the napkin I use to handle the birds. The earlier pair, whom I miss so often, would lie as quiet as babies just out of shower, and open their mouths at the sight of the dropper to take their vitamin.
Monday, January 26, 2009
A rose by any other name
What if I were born in a suburban Mumbai family of someone called Vilalat Khan? Would my life have been the same if I had grown up as Zaheera? In today's 'MNS' times, I am afraid, if it were so, I might as well have been called to prove my allegiance to the nation I was born in, worse, to the city I grew up in and loved as my own. Far-fetched scenarios. Far-fetched-- but plausible and scary.
The latest bit of bossing from the MNS brigade has led to the change of name of a sweet-shop in Mumbai. From Karachi, it has now morphed to Jai Shri Krishna.
What's in a name?
In a name, is the right to sound as you want to, to reflect what you have chosen to associate with, and with that choice, many thoughts, many ideas are linked. When you are asked to change this, you are asked to give up your right to identity. The owner may have buckled down under pressure, and made a conscious, personal choice. But as a person sitting miles away, this change sounds yet another horror-tale of limited democracy, limited choice and a life that is dictated by fear and politics.
If politicians today have reduced patriotism to such a simplistic notion, if patriotism could be so superficially proven, lord save India.
Here are the two reports on the basis of which this post was developed:
MNS goes after 'Pak' sigh boards
Karachi Sweets to turn Jai Shri Krishna
Is your life now governed by fear of goons who vandalise store and maim people who they declare 'outsiders'? Is fear and prejudice that you want to give your children in legacy? Has the judicial mechanism of this country gone so feeble that people who voice such separatist ideas roam free and have the audacity to make such demands time and again?
Happy Republic Day...
The latest bit of bossing from the MNS brigade has led to the change of name of a sweet-shop in Mumbai. From Karachi, it has now morphed to Jai Shri Krishna.
What's in a name?
In a name, is the right to sound as you want to, to reflect what you have chosen to associate with, and with that choice, many thoughts, many ideas are linked. When you are asked to change this, you are asked to give up your right to identity. The owner may have buckled down under pressure, and made a conscious, personal choice. But as a person sitting miles away, this change sounds yet another horror-tale of limited democracy, limited choice and a life that is dictated by fear and politics.
If politicians today have reduced patriotism to such a simplistic notion, if patriotism could be so superficially proven, lord save India.
Here are the two reports on the basis of which this post was developed:
MNS goes after 'Pak' sigh boards
Karachi Sweets to turn Jai Shri Krishna
Is your life now governed by fear of goons who vandalise store and maim people who they declare 'outsiders'? Is fear and prejudice that you want to give your children in legacy? Has the judicial mechanism of this country gone so feeble that people who voice such separatist ideas roam free and have the audacity to make such demands time and again?
Happy Republic Day...
Friday, January 23, 2009
Orphanage death in Baruipur near Kolkata
A government-run orphanage has made it to the headlines after a child died of malnutrition. Four others have a long road to recovery, after being diagnosed of severe malnutrition. A child had already lost eyesight in one eye because of this and the vision in his right eye is unlikely to be restored, fear doctors.
When this news first came, we were shocked and angry. After these two emotions, we didn't quite know what to do.
Imagining the children huddled by in a filthy room, hungry and unkempt, smelling and itching, craving for bit of food that they were denied at a place they had taken shelter. And even after this unforgiveable happening, though the state social welfare minister Biswanath Chowdhury admit "lapses on our part," he didn't find time to visit the home.
As reported here, the welfare home stank of filth, and the kids themselves were in an abominable condition, many with severe skin infections and rashes.
"When I asked for a soap, I was thrashed," said Sharif Jani Wassa.
And there was no food.
"Many of us would go to bed hungry as the food we got was too little. The ones who protested were beaten up by home superintendent Nirapad Poila," said Raju Rajik, another inmate. (Excerpts from this report)
After all this, what will happen? A probe? Of course, that's the easiest thing bureaucrats can promise to do. They will check what went wrong after it has irrevocably gone wrong.
And this may not be the first or the only such death, hints this report in The Telegraph.
After a time, your soul gets tired of the number of deaths that crave for attention each single day in a newspaper. It begs you to leave it free from such alien misery. But such horrible deaths come back to haunt you in nightmares and take you unawares. I imagine a home shrouded in mystery and secluded, inside which children crawl about in hunger and pain, and finally shrivel and die. And with a shudder, I get back to work. Another newborn has been left in a garbage vat, a child has been strangled after medical expenses began to spiral, another death is waiting to be subbed.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Kaapyo chhe
I don't remember the last time I had a super-duper-fabulous Uttrayan.. So much has been left behind ever since I left Ahmedabad. I miss that city that is so full of colours, it makes you go heady with happiness at times. Uttrayan was always my favourite. Seeing the sky dotted with thousands and thousands of kites, with the sun setting in the backdrop almost takes you close to nirvana. When the sun set on 15th, Vasi Uttrayan, a very selfish gloom would pass over me.
Did you fly kites? Wishing you a happy makar sankranti. As they say in marathi, speak sweet. :)
Friday, January 09, 2009
Laughter doesn't cost a paisa
Arnold is coming up with some really witty stuff these days. You might want to have a good laugh. Have a look.
:)
:)
What font are you?
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Poster Campaign
I made these posters for the 'Another India is Possible Poster Campaign'.
I was thrilled to start doing something, for this sounded a lot like the good old school and college festival days. Only difference, trying my hand at Coral instead of Camlin.
The entries will be accepted till Jan 31.
Here are more details:
www.binayaksen.net and www.tasveerghar.net call upon netizens and all those interested anywhere to make posters on the theme of 'Another India is Possible'. The idea is to encourage artists and others to think afresh of what a positive vision of a future India could be like- in an imaginative, constructive but provocative way.
The posters could be digitally produced or hand-made but they need to be available in soft copy form to be put up on a specially created website for this purpose. Some of the suggested topics are: (a) Democracy (b) Justice (c) Dignity (d) Human Rights (e) Children (f) Indigenous People (g) Gender (h) Access to Health (i) Safe Environment (j) Social Harmony.
The campaign will culminate on 31st January 2009 and the best 50 posters will be compiled into a 'Visual Election Manifesto' to be presented to all the political parties prior to the next national general elections. A panel of eminent artists and social activists will vet the posters and special prizes will be announced during the campaign for the best poster (s) in different categories.
CONTACT: saeed.yousuf@gmail.com or satyasagar@gmail.com
I got to know about this from Baruk, here.
Gauri Gharpure asserts her copyright over all the drawings and matter published on her blogs, unless otherwise referenced. Understandably, she discourages the use of these in any other media. In case you feel you want to make use of any of the written and/or drawn matter published on her blogs, you must reach her by email for prior permission.
Respect Originality
Thursday, January 01, 2009
A Quiet Beginning
It was 2003 I guess. I was on an island in the middle of nowhere. I had a mobile, but signal was a rarity. I was blissfully alone- there were not many with whom I was obliged to talk. The sky was studded with a million dazzling stars. It was a sight I have seen but once or twice. That was how I welcomed 2004. And 2005? That's a different story. Some other time. For now, I remember that peaceful start-studded night of Dec 31 '2003. Five years is a milestone. These five years have been soulful. God has been kind. I look forward to many nights of solitude when I have only stars for company.
Wishing you a happy new year...
Wishing you a happy new year...
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