Laugh, we?

I generally am not very much enthusiastic about watching TV. When I am back from work, I just catch whatever is on at dinner-time The surfeit of scandalous news, mushy soaps, even more mushy reality talent-hunts and mostly inane movies is nothing to look forward to.
There is one program, though, which I have lately been immensely interested in & try not to miss and therefore finds mention here – The Great Indian Laughter Champions, the stand-up comedy talent hunt program on Start One, Friday nights at 10 pm. I’ll tell you why I am so fond of it.
We are a society with a perpetual sullen countenance. I do not know whether it is the collective weight of our history & religious beliefs or the undue premium we place on the serious and somber, we Indians have lately forgotten to laugh at ourselves.
You don’t believe me? Next time you go out, try throwing some humorous comment or response to the people around you – your shopkeeper, doctor, banker, kid’s teachers, government officials. The first reaction would be of disbelief, followed probably by a guarded snigger. There are very few people who have the ability and inclination to appreciate good humour in everyday life.
This program has really tickled the proverbial funny bone of our society and rekindled this art of laughing at ourselves, which would, I hope, go a long way in making more civilized people of us. We need more such programs.
Now, I agree that there are various other comedy sitcoms on telly. But this is different because of the format. Apart from the occasional Shekhar Suman or Sajid Khan, we have never had a stand-up comedian being appreciated for some intelligent lines rather than a slap-stick situation. And in our movies also, it is only recently that good comedy has been recognized as an acting genre in itself and not a side-function of the hero vs villain story.
You think I am haranguing a bit more than warranted about a “thakela” TV show? Then let me hear what you have to say, please!

Festivals - Diwali

A very Happy "Diwali" to all of you! Last 3 days have been really hectic - crackers, eating, lights - lots of them, shopping, visiting friends, relatives, acquaintances...

I really love this festival and every year when I pray, I am reminded of the glorious history ( or mythology, as one's point of view might be) behind the celebrations.

I must admit however that everytime I hear the word "Diwali", I cringe. The correct name is "Deepawali", which, as everybody in India should know, is a sanskrit word meaning "a row of lights". "Deep" means an earthen lamp and "Awali" means a row.

Over the centuries, it seems, the sharp edges of "Deepawali" have been rounded off to a more colloquial "Diwali" but in the process, has lost all its sheen and glory. It sounds so routine and mundane, so to say.

Anyway, I am probably getting a bit mushy over this name business. What's in a name, as they say! Or is there?

Raag Darbari

I have just finished reading "Raag Darbaari" by Shrilal Shukla. Third time, that is.
With my limited reading, I have yet to come across so powerful a statement & satire on the socio-political rural (and real) India.
To all of you who have been mesmerized by the gloss of cities for long, I strongly recommend this book, which I am sure would serve as a much-needed (I presume) dosage of the real India we live in.
And let me also warn you, do not go for any translated version. As it happens with any translation, however brilliant it might be, the sublime cultural connotations are completely lost.
I would welcome your views.

Graffiti

Hi all! I am back after a brief, inadvertent gap. This is a season of weddings and vacations and I was a bit tied up.
One of these days, I was driving in to an unknown part of the city. While at the wheel, and being plodded along by the traffic around me, I had no other way of knowing where I was, except the signposts and road-markers put up by the administration. Thank them and God for that, I thought.
I was merrily cruising along when suddenly I found that that the next signpost exhibited not the information I sought and which this signpost was intended for, but a picture of some idiot grinning at me with his hands folded, extolling me to “vote for glass” or for some other such house-hold item.
This happens all the time. You wish to board your train from some obscure station on the way but find the space for the reservation chart is splattered with pamphlets of some political rally; you are at a government office and the information board is all filled up with the union elections in the offing; in short all and any important information displayed for some public good is bound to be defaced and replaced with some humbug.
Why does this happen? What types of people do this? In my view, this happens because there is such a huge identity crisis and people need to assert themselves in the most radical manner, public sensibilities and their needs be damned. And also because, in general, we are not a very civic society. Any one of us is actually not attuned to respecting valid needs of others.
I remember having read somewhere recently that in Germany, there is a talk of proposing a legislation to curb all such graffiti, with a provision of strict punishment including imprisonment. I think there is a valid need for such a legislation here in our country too.

Horny Indians

I have just returned home after an excruciating drive through the notorious city traffic and have realized yet again how horny we Indians are.
Now, please do not get me wrong. I usually do not think about sex while driving, at least not in terms of some dry sociological fact.
When I say horny, I refer to the propensity of an average Indian, while s/he is driving, to rely on his vehicle’s sound horn more than any thing else, including his driving skills.
While waiting at the traffic lights, God forbid if your reflexes fail you for even a nano-second when the light changes from red to green. Instantaneously, you would be chastised by a harsh symphony of sounding of all kinds of horns from all directions.
While actually moving, its your solemn responsibility to come up to the expectations of all your fellow-drivers in terms of maintaining speed, sticking to your lane etc. If you falter even a bit, a sharp rebuke of a short, powerful sounding of horn (akin to a rap on the knuckles) awaits you.
And then, what better way to proclaim your right to the road than an authoritative and gruff sounding of horn.
I sometimes wonder why do we need any brakes at all in our vehicles? Let the best horn win!

Reserved for Ladies

On account of this outburst, I could well be termed a certified MCP but here goes. It seems to me that the ladies (notice how I have not used the term - women) are still a confused lot about what route to take to liberation. I will take an example to illustrate my point.

In the public transport I use, I find young and perfectly able-bodied woman glaring at even some senior citizens who have occupied the "ladies only" seats, with a silent (sometimes) admonishing and imploration for them to get up and offer them this sacred space reserved for them by the law. More often than not, these are educated, working women, who consider this reservation as their divine prerogative. (It is another matter that once enconsed in their seats, they would not bother to think about another female fellow-traveller in distress). And on the other hand, we find these young women attempting to "break the glass ceiling" at work, looking for equal opportunity employers, attempting to become more "men" than men.

I agree that above are extremely generalized situations but then, I hope you get the drift of what I am trying to say. Only that you can not have your cake and eat it too.

History

Last Sunday, at an old friend’s house, I picked up a book by the celebrated writer-activist-politician Arun Shourie – “Worshipping False Gods”. One would recall that in this book, Mr. Shourie has proceeded to demolish the benevolent halo around the much revered dalit leader - Baba Saheb Ambedkar by submitting certain historical facts – or fiction, as your point of view might be.
During my return journey from the office today, I was ruminating about the book, and remembering the infuriating response to this book at the time of its release, when a strange contradiction in our collective behaviour struck me. Let me elaborate.
It is an accepted fact that history of our nation, let alone the world, does not interest us as a nation. We are after all a young country, in pursuit of a happy future ahead. If I remember correctly, a recent survey by a magazine pointed out that about 60% of our young generation were completely bereft of any historical knowledge and perspective on even the most rudimentary topics and whats more, hardly had any inclination for it. Barring for the academicians and for some other exceptions, history it seems is considered best left alone in sixth standard school books. Almost all our historical monuments, museums lie in ruins and proclamation of a BA in History generally does not grant you a second glance in exalted company.
But while there is a total atmosphere of apathy towards our history as in facts, we cling to & worship history as in humans, so much so that we sacrifice even the genuine facts on the altars of our (mis) placed beliefs. We brazenly engage in hero-worship, aided by the glorious fables attributable to them over the ages. Our identification with them is so complete and total that we close our eyes to any reason and if some one dares to even so much as to propose even a slight deviation from the popularly accepted version of the personality, in stead of questioning the facts, we proceed with the “shoot the messenger” attitude.
Why this apparent contradiction? Is it because we are not mature enough to take criticism in a more forthright manner? Or is it because each one of us is afraid of losing his/her moorings in this already mad world? Or is it because as long as it is “his-story” it is none of my business?

Delhi

In spite of living near & working in Delhi for quite some time now, Delhi never ceases to find newer means and ways to amaze me.

Today, after I got on one of the notorious blue-line buses on my last lap to office, I realized to my horror that I was 50 paise short of the minimum fare of Rupees 2 – in loose change, I mean.

With a confident demeanour, which I hoped would carry me through, I handed over the two coins – 1 rupee and 50 paise – to the conductor, who looked every inch a worthy specimen of the perpetually unwashed species of blue-line conductors. “Aath aane kam hain, agle stop tak jaana hai (The change is fifty paise short but I have to get down at the next stop itself)”. I presumed he would grant my intentions a benefit of doubt and would waive me through. After all, I hoped, I didn’t look a person who would lie to save a pittance.

Instead, he looked disdainfully at the 50 paise coin, glowered at me and barked – “Pachaas Paise ka sikka nahin chalta bhaisahab, Is mein to ek paani ka gilaas bhi nahin aayega” (This coin won’t do, won’t even buy a glass of water). I was stumped! Of course, I had no choice but to fork out a 100-rupee note for want of a fifty-paise coin.

But, “Nahin Chalta!” Now, what does that mean? As far I understand, a 50 paise coin does represent a perfectly valid, if probably the smallest, denomination of the legitimate Indian national currency (correct me if I’m wrong). There is absolutely no reason why it would not be acceptable as a bus-fare when it does work in even the swanky malls and cineplexes.

Put this person in any other Indian city and chances are, he would calmly ask you to look for another 50 paise for the full fare. But here in Delhi, it is beneath his dignity to acknowledge the existence of any coin lesser than a 1-rupee.

I remember around 2 years back there was a brief period during which there was a short supply of new currency notes. At that time, the whole of northern India accepted even torn notes, preserved in a stapled polythene pouch. But could any self-respecting Delhi-wallah stoop to so low a level? Never!

I am amazed how, in Delhi, which is the national seat of government, could these perfectly valid instruments of governance and finance be refused for no valid reason but just for a lack of their aesthetic appeal? Or is it plain “Size does matter”? I am amazed.

Towns

I am today back from Meerut, which is a bustling town around 60 kms from Delhi on the Dehradun Highway. It is an important town of the Western UP, which seems to be much revered by the rest of UP majorly due to its proximity to Delhi, the national capital. It is also an important military center, dating back to the Raj times.

For me, however, this town is a chaotic testimony to a total lack of any urban planning and civic sense anywhere around us. Whatever good the numerous Five Year Plans might have done for us, a planned & decent urban structure was certainly not one of them. We, as a nation, have had no idea how to raise good cities for a better living. It is probably a result of assi–pratishat–janta– gaon– mein– rahti– hai mindset.
To my mind, any Indian town, however small it might be, has got a distinct character and history, which could be developed upon beautifully. Unfortunately, we have neither been able to preserve our villages to their pristine beauty nor create good cities out of them.
All we have done is to create numerous clones of a handful of our important cities and metros. Every town and kasba is desperately rushing to transform itself from an ugly duckling to the nearest swan of a glitzy metro. Rest later..

Tolerance

For quite some time now, the sociological landscape of India has been streaked with an intolerant red.
All of us have been hearing about the opposition to films like Fire, Water etc.; about the vandalism in Hussains picture gallery; attacks on historians for their views (rather facts) about some reverd men of yore and more recently about christians' oppostion to the movie "Sins". I always took it as a frustrated action of fringe groups - you felt bad about it but there was nothing you could do about it.
Today, I realize yet again how much damage our collective psyche has taken when I learnt that the Sikh community has reacted adversely to a scene in the recent movie "Shabd". Sikhs - the quientessential jovial "papajis", loved by all for their rustic humour and in equal breath admired for their bravely, chivalry, have been offended by an innocent scene.
What does one say?

3rd March 2005

hi everybody
after much trepidation, i am finally on to this band-wagon called blogging. still am not sure how it works but then, i have made a start.