Sunday, November 01, 2009

Kaise Hota Hai

A young friend of mine recently passed away in a most unfortunate manner. 29 is no age to go, not by a cardiac arrest, not in any manner.

While at his funeral, I could not bear the sight of his father - helpless, desolate and apparently bereft of any emotions. Cheated by life, he seemed to me. I can not even imagine the hell he must be going through. I just wish & pray he and the whole family is able to pull themselves together and come out of this.

Curiously, at this time, I am also reminded about a poem I wrote 4 years ago about how when a child is born, s/he fills up, lights up our entire lives. I reproduce it below, with a strange hope that as times go by, happier memories would soften the cruel blow of destiny:

कैसे होता है?

कैसे होता है,
कि
मासूम हंसी का एक तार
सी देता है ज़िन्दगी के सारे पैबंद
और
एक मुस्कराहट भर के लिए
दम भरती है ज़िन्दगी
करती है - इंतज़ार

कैसे होता है
कि
बंजर दिल की ज़मीं को
तर कर देते हैं
सिर्फ दो नन्हे आंसू,
और उदास एक नज़र से
मानती है खुदाई भी हार

कैसे होता है
कि नन्हे दो हाथों में
उतर आता है
सारा आसमां
और
छोटे छोटे कदम
बन जाते हैं
आहट ज़िन्दगी की

कैसे होता है
कि
एक किलकारी भर से
होती है बसावट
पूरी ज़िन्दगी की!

(19.01.2004)

Good Bye JP.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Manohar Shyam Joshi

हिंदी और अंग्रेजी के बहुत से उपन्यास, कहानियां और पत्रिकाएँ मैंने पढी हैं - साहित्यिक, माडर्न टाइप, पुराने क्लास्सिक्स, लुगदी साहित्य, और न जाने "कैफे कैफे". एक आम पाठक की हैसियत से मैंने यह पाया है कि साहित्य के मोटे तौर पर दो ही पहलू हैं - एक कथानक, दूसरा भाषा. इन दोनों की गुणवत्ता और सामंजस्य ही उस कृति, चाहे वो कहानी हो या कविता, की गुणवत्ता, प्रखरता और प्रभाव निर्धारित करता है.
इस लिहाज से मेरे विचार में बहुत थोड़े से ही लेखक ऐसे हैं कि जिनकी शैली, यानी लिखा हुआ शब्द और कथानक यानी शब्दों के बीच की कहानी, दोनों इतने दमदार, ओरिजनल और अनूठे होते हैं कि मानो पन्नों से निकल कर सीधे अन्दर के इंसान से डायरेक्ट रिश्ता बना ले जाते हैं. इस श्रेणी में सबसे ऊपर मैं रखता हूँ मनोहर श्याम जोशी को.
हम में से अधिकतर लोग मनोहर श्याम जोशी को दूरदर्शन के पहले मशहूर टी.वी सीरियल "हम लोग" के लेखक के रूप में जानते होंगे, जैसा कि मेरे अल्प-ज्ञान की बदौलत मैं जानता था. जैसा कि उस वय में हमारे साथ होता था, एक टी.वी सीरियल की सफलता में हमें सिर्फ परदे पर चेहरे दीख पाते थे, परदे के पीछे नहीं. इस लिए यह नाम आया गया हो गया, जो कि बड़ी भूल हुई.
फिर अभी करीब पांच साल पहले एक सह-ब्लॉगर "सिलबिल" ने मुझे "कसप" के बारे में बताया, जिसके जरिये मेरा बाकायदा परिचय जोशी जी की लेखनी से हुआ. "कसप" पहाड़ी पृष्ठभूमि में लिखी गयी एक हिंदी प्रेमकथा (उपन्यास) है, जिस का नायक एक अनाथ और निर्धन युवक डी.डी. (देबिया या देबिदुत्त तिवारी) है और नायिका है बेबी नाम्नी एक खिलंदढ़ कन्या. मैं आपसे सच कहता हूँ, ऐसी भावप्रण और ईमानदार प्रेमकथा मैंने आज तक न पढी है और ना ही परदे पर देखी है. पहाडी आंचलिक परिवेश और भाषा इस प्रेम-कहानी को एक अलग ही आयाम दे देते हैं. यह मुझे बाद में पता लगा कि इस उपन्यास को लोग हिंदी साहित्य के एक मील के पत्थर की तरह मानते हैं.
इस शानदार उपन्यास के बाद मैं इनका एक अन्य उपन्यास "कुरु कुरु स्वाहा" पढ़ पाया, जो कि एक और अजब ही, करीब करीब वर्णातीत सी चीज़ निकली. उपन्यास के जैकेट पर भी ऐसा ही कुछ वर्णन है, नोश फरमाइए - "नाम बेढब, शैली बेडौल, कथानक बेपेंदे का. कुल मिला कर बेजोड़ बकवास. अब यह पाठक पर है कि "बकवास" को "एब्सर्ड" का पर्याय माने या न माने". और, इसी के एक पात्र के शब्दों में - " अईसा कामेडी है कि दर्शिक लोग जानेगा, केतना हास्यास्पद है त्रास अऊर केतना त्रासद है हास्य." आंचलिक भाषाओँ पर अपनी बेहद मजबूत पकड़ का परिचय जोशी जी यहाँ पर भी दे देते हैं - पंजाबी और बम्बईया लहजों से सराबोर हिंदी से पाठक का परिचय करवा के.
"स्वाहा" के बाद बारी थी "ट-टा प्रोफ़ेसर" की, जिसे मैंने बड़ी शिद्दत से ढूँढा. आखिरकार, लैंडमार्क स्टोर पर हिंदी किताबों के निष्कासित और भूले भूले से सेक्शन में मेरी किस्मत जागी. एक ही सिटिंग में मैं इसे पढ़ गया और बिलकुल भी निराश नहीं होना पड़ा. यह उपन्यास भी "स्वीकृत मानदंडों की दृष्टि से पूरी तरह तर्क-संगत और प्रासंगिक नहीं होने के बावजूद हिंदी उपन्यासों में एक विशिष्ट दर्जा रखता है....एक पात्र की ही नहीं, एक कहानी की भी कहानी है....." (जैकेट से).
एक जीवंत और प्रमाणिक भाषा के अलावा जोशी जी के लेखन में दो चार बातें और मैंने पायी. एक तो यह कि हर कहानी के केंद्र में नायक का अकेलापन है जो पूरी कहानी को एक अबूझ और attractive उदासी दे देता है. दूसरा यह कि पूरी कहानी के दौरान एक तीसरी आँख कैमरे की तरह फिल्म बनाती चलती है, जो शायद उनके फिल्म अनुभव की वजह से है. इस से कहानी में एक अलग ही dynamics और perspective पैदा हो जाते हैं और कहानी को एक अलग ही गति दे देते हैं. तीसरी बात यह है कि कोई भी कहानी किसी मेसेज के ढकोसले में फँस कर पाठक के बौद्धिक स्तर का अपमान नहीं करती. कहानी सिर्फ कहानी होती है. चौथी बात शायद आपने अब तक नोट कर ही ली होगी - उनके अनूठे और रहस्यमयी से शीर्षक.
कुल मिला कर यह कि पहली फुर्सत में जोशी जी को पढ़ डालिए और रसास्वादन कीजिये. तब तक मैं इनकी अन्य कृतियाँ जुटाता हूं.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Dev. D

The best tribute any filmmaker can pay to his favorite work of art is when s/he retells it in his own way.

Dev D, though of course based on the original story by Shart Babu, is an out and out Anurag Kashyap film – completely hat ke, and very bold – not recommended for your usual Bollywood aficionados. I watched it a couple of days back, and it is only now that I have been able to shake off its stupor.

It is not only that the story has been made contemporary by placing it firmly in rural Punjab and Paharganj, and dovetailing it with certain current happenings in Delhi. The undercurrent of emotions that run through the film is also so palpably real and so modern, not far-fetched and unfathomable for we the real people. And the characters, including the protagonist Dev, are very realistically etched out, away from the “classic” and “pristine” characters of all the earlier versions.

Of course, the film would not be what it is without some marvelous acting by Abhay Deol, Mahi Gill and Kalki. Thank God for actors like Abhay, and directors like Anurag Kashyap, who have tried hard, and been successful, in growing apart from the formula land of bad Bollywood. Without them, we would be so much the poorer.

Talking too much about the film would spoil the fun for the unlucky ones (or simply out-of-date types like me) who have not watched it yet. Just let me say that ten years down the line, it would surely be counted as one of the milestones of Hindi cinema. So, go ahead and watch it. Pronto.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Jaat Hi Poochho Sadhu Ki

भारतीय रंग-कर्म के लेखन क्षेत्र में विजय तेंदुलकर एक कद्दावर नाम है, यह मैंने पहली बार बीस साल पहले तब जाना था जब स्कूल में उनके लिखे एक प्रख्यात नाटक "खामोश, अदालत जारी है" पर आधारित (सिर्फ़ "आधारित, क्यूंकि स्कूल के बालकों के लिए इस की थीम काफी बोल्ड थी) एक नाटक का मंचन देखा था।
कल एन.एस.डी रंगमंडल की प्रस्तुति "जात ही पूछो साधू की" देख कर लौटा हूँ और एक बार फिर शिद्दत के साथ विजय तेंदुलकर, और साथ ही में रंगशाला के कलाकारों का और हिन्दी अनुवादक डॉ। वसंत देव का, कला-कौशल महसूस रहा हूँ।
"जात.." एक बहुत ही आम, कस्बाई युवक महीपत की कहानी है जो हमारे देश के लाखों युवकों की कहानी की तरह तीसरे दर्जे में एम्.ए पास से शुरू हो कर, जात-पात, भाई-भतीजावाद, गंवाई राजनीती और असफल प्यार से होती हुई अंततः बे-रोजगारी पर ख़त्म होती है.
कहानी बिलकुल सीधी-सादी, या यूँ कहें कि एक-आयामी ही है पर विजय तेंदुलकर के हाथों में एक farce का treatment पा कर, और वसंत देव के शानदार हिंदी अनुवाद और आंचलिक संवादों से सज कर यह एक घनघोर हास्य नाटक में बदल गयी है. और इस पर रंगमंडल (NSD repertoire) के कलाकारों के उच्च स्तरीय अभिनय ने इस नाटक की प्रशंस्नीयता को अक्षुण रखा है. नायक महीपत की भूमिका में अम्बरीश सक्सेना बहुत दमदार हैं, और इसके अलावा बबना, नलिनी और चेयरमैन (सुरेश शर्मा) भी कमाल के हैं. सुरेश शर्मा रंगमंडल के प्रमुख हैं, और इन्हें "घासीराम कोतवाल" में नाना के रोल में देखना भी एक अनुभव ही था.
ऐसे नाटकों को देख कर यह अहसास होता है कि वाकई अभिनय कला की सही कसौटी मंच ही है, फूहड़ फिल्में, भद्दे टी.वी सीरिअल और रियलिटी टी.वी प्रोग्राम नहीं.
नाटकों के बारे में और बातें फिर कभी.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Police Sensitization

A few days back, I was reading an editorial in the Hindustan Times which talked about an unfortunate incident in which some policemen & women beat up a mentally ill girl because she turned violent.

The editorial argued that the police force needs to be reformed and sensitized about such matters.

My response, in an unpublished letter, is as follows:

This is apropos your editorial "Are we really a police state?" in HT dated August 27, 2009.

You have rightly raised a very apt question about the lack and immediate need thereof of sensitization of our police force. It was indeed painful to learn about a mentally ill girl being thrashed mercilessly in public, which is yet another instance of police behaviour at its worst.

In my view, however, this is not the problem per se; it is only a symptom of a deeper malaise. Police force, like any other institution, is not a faceless entity. It is essentially a group of people who, rather than being unleashed by the heavens above, are common people drawn from the society itself.

And it is our societal collective mindset – essentially feudalistic, acutely class-conscious, intolerant of the maginalised of any manner and opportunistic of the first order, rules be damned – which is being reflected in each one of us, policemen included, only with different degrees of manifestation in line with the opportunity provided.

It has to be recognized therefore that without a corrective action on the root cause, therefore, it would only be a symptomatic treatment at best.

Sincerely Yours


Sunday, August 16, 2009

Kaminey

Yesterday, after we had unfurled the Tricolour at our residence apartments, I went to watch Kaminey, the new Vishal Bhardwaj film.

Kaminey is a story about how the lives of two identical brothers, one a small time gambler and the other an idealist, crisscross each other in a series of incidents and after many manoeuvers, culminate in a happily–ever–after end. The title Kaminey (hindi), which loosely translates into a wicked or a vile fellow, derives from the wickedness of the gambler brother and how he uses this trait to survive in the world.

It is now beyond dispute that Vishal is surely an above-average film-maker, with gems like Omkara, Maqbool and The Blue Umbrella to his credit. It has to be said, however, that Kaminey falls just a whisper short of the high standards and expectations one has of him.

It has a rather clichéd story line, reminding one of the old 70s films, complete with bura bhai - achha bhai clashes, villain ka adda and late entry of the police et al.

Admittedly, the treatment and the screen-play is authentic Vishal but the earthliness and the gritty reality which seeps through each of his films has this time been replaced in part by a sort of flight of fancy – what else can you say when you see Priyanka Chopra holding and firing a machine gun!

And the characterization and role-etching, which is always a high point of his films, also leaves something to be desired. Not only were there many small characters which were just introduced and left on fringes completely unexplored, the good brother character of Shahid also suffers from this.

Lest you be scared of the movie, however, let me reiterate that the standards by which I am judging Kaminey are a bit harsh - those which have been set up by Vishal’s earlier films. As a stand-alone film, Kaminey is a gripping movie, exemplifying Vishal’s superior understanding of this craft and has its strong points.

First, the film unearths a different Shahid Kapur – it stands to surely catapult him from the “boys’ club” to “men-only” section. It could be termed an out-and-out Shahid film. Add to that a surprise villain in Amole Gupte.

Second is the delightful music score – a combination of some brilliant lyrics by Gulzar (who else can write Dhan Te Nan with such élan?), music by Vishal himself, both riding on the voices of Sukhwinder and Mohit Chauhan.

Third is the fast pace and slick editing of the film, which keeps the adrenaline flowing.

All in all, the movie merits a must-watch-once tag.

Sunday, August 09, 2009

White Mughals & Hyderabad


It was in May that I was reading White Mughals by Willian Dalrymple, when a lovely coincidence resulted in my visit to Hyderabad during that time.
White Mughals, though technically classified as a history book, is essentially a true & moving love story between an English resident James William Kirkpatrick and a Hyderabadi noble woman Kahirunnissa, set in Hyderabad of 18th century. Kirkpatrick took to Islam to marry this woman.
Keeping this love story in the foreground, Dalrymple has explored and evidenced the inter-cultural and inter-racial mingling of an improbably large number of British people with the Indians at that time.
Having considered the English as mostly colonial masters and India-haters, I was really surprised to learn that there were actually a large number of Englishmen who not only did not hate India, but loved this country so much that they embraced the Indian culture in totality– dress, cuisine, lifestyles – everything. The rare photos reproduced of the Englishmen including the protagonist show them all decked up in Indian finery, complete with hookahs et al. A large number of them had Indian wives. Many of them spoke fluent Persian and Hindustani, got their palms hennaed and even nursed the ubiquitous Indian symbol - moustache.
For a historian, Dalrymple has an excellent narrative style. Considering that he does not have the luxury of a fictional plot, the story he has pieced together from the available sources including private letters is truly a compelling one, and I could feel the passion of the main characters.
Another surprise protagonist which emerges from the story is the city of Hyderabad. Dalrymple has been able to create a lively approximation of Hyderabad of yore. The painstaking research, though digressive sometimes, sparkles through each and every page.
(Image Courtesy: FlytoHyderabad.com)

When I first visited Hyderabad around 7 years back, I was pleasantly surprised to find a clean, energetic city with wide roads (it was during the reign of Chandrababu Naidu) in place of a stinking city which some people had warned it to be. There is however a more important thing about the city which I felt - it seems to present a delightful confluence of North and South Indian cultures, as symbolised by the language (ready understanding and acceptability of Hindi in this southern state) and food (delicious cuisine which is able to satiate even a North Indian palate).
This time, however, I long to see beyond the present, and explore the forgotten monuments like the British Residency, Begum's Garden, Raymond's Tomb etc, and visualise the past in places like Banjara Hills. But whenever I do this, I am sure I will be armed with this gem of a tome.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

छुट्टियाँ ख़त्म या छुट्टियां शुरू

Now that the summer vacations of my son, who is in Class III, have ended, it seems mine and my wife's have truly started.
Till the last week, as we raced towards the deadline of school re-opening, we were fully consumed after our office hours in making charts, sticking pictures, tying up project-reports and what have you, all in the interest of timely completion of his "holiday homework". I talked to some "fellow travelers" in distress and the common refrain was - इतना तो हम हमारे टाइम में पढ़ लेते तो आज IAS कर चुके होते !!
The phrase "Holiday Homework" truly must rate amongst the top 10 oxymorons in the Indian English. After all, what remains of holidays for a poor child with so much homework to complete is anybody's guess. I fondly remember our times when holidays were pure fun, untouched by anything remotely curricular and academic. And this did not make us any poorer in education, my contemporaries would agree.
I am sure I state the obvious in saying that it is we parents who are to blame for this sorry state. Today, when most of us are maniacally driving our children towards super-human goals, we expect the schools to play their part. Driven, therefore, by our anxities and in their zeal to provide us a better "product" that education has now become, the schools work out unassailable tasks for the children as homeworks, which even parents find quite tough. No wonder then that there have sprung up specialised shops catering to school projects and homework!
I wish the educationalists and acamedicians would recognize this as a problem and devise some such simple assignments, if needed at all, which could make the lives of our children more relaxed and fun, and ours more relieved.


Saturday, July 04, 2009

Happy and Gay?

Apropos the Delhi High Court judgement over gay rights, it is amusing to note that both the opponents and proponents of the judgement have, even if inadvertently, reduced this issue to just a Freudian debate.
This judgement is an endorsement of personal liberty and rights and inclusiveness, which any sane and civil person already understands. That the state also now does so is all the more welcome. It is one less opportunity for the insensitive law enforcerers to harrass civil people on imaginary pretexts. So far so good.
However, the accompanying celebrations and felicitations and the whole picture painted in the media has twisted this issue out of context. It almost seems like a glorification of the LGBT lifestyle choice, if there is one, over our less interesting, boringly normal heterosexual lifestyles.
This we definitely do not need. It has to be clearly understood that the issue is about inclusiveness towards the "differently normal", if I may dare to coin a term, and not about their validation as normal.
The same sentiments are carried in my letter to the editor in today's edition of Indian Express, Delhi.
I would love to hear what you think about this sensitive topic.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

गोरा

मैंने अक्सर किताबें पढ़ते हुए सोचा है कि ऐसा क्या है जो एक लेखक को औरों से ज्यादा पठनीय बनता है, एक महान लेखक को आम लेखकों से अलग करता है, और सबसे बड़ी बात - उसकी रचनाओं को कालजयी बना देता है।
बहुत साल पहले जब प्रेमचंद को मैंने पहली बार पढ़ा था तो इस प्रश्न से मेरा पहला साबका था। इस बार, मैंने गुरुदेव रबिन्द्रनाथ ठाकुर का उपन्यास "गोरा" ख़त्म किया है , और मुझे लगता है कि मैंने उत्तर पा लिया है। "गोरा" मूलतः बांगला भाषा में है, जो मैं नहीं पढ़ पाता हूँ। इसलिए कुछ दो-एक महीने पहले जब मुझे सत्चितानंद वात्स्यायन "अज्ञेय" द्वारा हिन्दी में इस उपन्यास का अनुवाद मिला तो मैंने तुंरत इसे उठा लिया - गुरुदेव को पढ़ पाने का इस से बेहतर और प्रामाणिक अनुवाद और क्या हो सकता था।
"गोरा" एक ऐसा वृहत उपन्यास है जो स्वतंत्रता के कुछ दशक पहले के कलकत्ता में स्थित किया गया है और जो मित्रता, देशप्रेम, पारिवारिक सवाल-जवाबों और स्त्री-पुरूष प्रेम के ताने बाने में गूँथ कर तत्कालीन बांगला, या कहें कि भारतीय समाज की, न केवल वास्तु-स्थिति प्रस्तुत करता है बल्कि उसके अन्तर-विरोधों और रूढियों पर भी चोटें करता है। गौरमोहन नामक युवक इस उपन्यास के मुख्य पात्रों में से एक है, और इस उपन्यास के नाम का कारण भी। कहानी जानने के लिए आपको उपन्यास में डुबकी लगानी होगी।
यहाँ मैं आपसे मेरे प्रश्न का उत्तर बांटने में ज्यादा उत्सुक हूँ, चाहे साहित्य के गंभीर पाठकों और विद्यार्थियों के लिए शायद यह सब इतना नया न हो।
निपट सरल भाषा में जटिल से जटिल बात कह देना सभी महान लेखकों का संभवतः पहला विशेष लक्षण है। मैंने अंग्रेज़ी में सलमान रश्दी को पढ़ा है, और कदम कदम पर शब्दकोष की आवश्यकता महसूस की है। इस के बाद, शायद मेरे शब्द-ज्ञान में तो वृद्धि हुई होगी, लेकिन कहानी का रस कहीं बीच ही में छूट गया। इसके उलट, गुरुदेव और प्रेमचंद और इनके समकक्ष अन्य रचनाकार अपने पाठकों पर धाक ज़माने से ज्यादा अपनी बात को कहने और समझाने में विश्वास रखते हैं - वे सरल शब्दों का प्रयोग करते हैं और इस लिए आम जन से अपने आपको सायास ही जोड़ लेते हैं।
दूसरी महत्त्वपूर्ण बात - इन सभी रचनाकारों में मानव मन की गांठें खोल पाने का, और गहन भावनाओं को पाठक तक अपने शुध्ह्तम रूप में पहुँचा पाने का अद्भुत कला कौशल है। सभी पात्रों की सोच और उनके विचारों को इतनी ईमानदारी से हमारे समक्ष रख पाना कोई मामूली बात नहीं है।
तीसरी और आखरी बात जो मैं समझ पाया वह कारण से अधिक परिणाम है - महान कलाकारों की रचनायें बूढी नहीं होती। देश, काल और समय के परे यह आज भी हमें छू पाने का माद्दा रखती हैं।
आज इतना ही। साहित्य के बारे में आपके विचारों की प्रतीक्षा रहेगी.

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Trichy



Every time I travel out of Delhi NCR to far-flung cities and small towns, it is a pleasure to be relieved of my claustrophobic, Delhi-centric vision and be treated to the varied cultural experience that real India has to offer.
We (my friends DD, K and I) are just back from a week long business tour to Trichy in Tamilnadu, which I had earlier considered to be an inconsequential “Madrasi” town, mainly an industrial area. It is an industrial town, yes, but has other interesting facets too.
Trichy (or Tiruchirapalli) is the fourth largest city of Tamilnadu. Apart from being an important centre for industry (major energy sector related industry), it is a big religious tourism hub (many temples) and an education centre too (Dr. CV Raman and Dr. Kalam and some of the renowned “alumni” of the city).
The industry visits took my maximum time, which was why we were actually there. It has a dense concentration of BHEL ancillaries which are manufacturing varied equipments for the energy sector.
To complete the religious itinerary, we visited the two major temples - Shree Ranganathan Temple, which, as wikipedia informs, is the largest functioning Hindu (Vaisnava) temple in the world and Rockfort Temple, a Shiva temple on an 83mtrs high rock, which is a geographical anomaly in an otherwise flat landscape (see pic).
Both the temples are generally well-managed from a devotee’s point of view, as temples down South are known to be, but for a small anomaly - none of the important historical and mythological information is displayed in any language other than Tamil.
Owing to this, it was frustrating for me to not being able to decipher these markers and delve deeper in to so much history and culture and mythology right in front of me. Somebody needs to seriously look in to it.
We also visited an ancient Grand Anicut (dam) which is still functional (see pic) but did not seem to be very well promoted. With a little more effort, I am sure it could be developed in to a good resort.
There is a small army cantonment area which I suspect might be from the colonial times but it has remained completely unexplored by me.
Apart from this, we had a limited interaction with the city as a civic centre, but it was delightful to be treated to actual Tamilnadu, beyond the cosmopolitanism of Chennai. From what we could see, Trichy is a well maintained city with good civic services. Most notable for us Dilliwallahs was the extraordinarily large, well managed and sparklingly clean fleet of city buses.
The food is unapologetically south Indian, as is ought to be. To be fair, there are a lot of eateries “specializing” in different cuisines – Bombay Chappathy, North Indian dhall tharka, Chow mein and what not but everytime we deviated from the staple fare, it was an adventure best forgotten. Except the unfailingly excellent “kaapi” every time and the ubiquitous “paan”.
Trichy would remain with me as my first window to the mofussil Tamilnadu.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Jai Ho!

The battle cry of Jai Ho! (Victory Be Thine!) has served its purpose well for the Congress. The Grand Old Party has been voted back to power in a manner so decisive as to surprise even its own stalwarts.  

Clearly, it is a vote for stability and continuance of good governance, and as Shekhar Gupta so succinctly writes in his today’s editorial in Indian Express - “politics of aspiration has won over the politics of grievance”.

Regardless of one’s political affinities, it is a matter of pleasure to note the most obvious positive – a firm rendering of caste and religion as irrelevant in the democratic process as demonstrated in the rout of BJP and Behen ji.

Another positive is that the Indian voter has ably learnt to make a distinction between the state and central elections, which is why the regional parties have been more or less swept off the electoral map this time.   

So, here is wishing the new government all the very best. I sincerely hope this time Congress party puts its head down and tackle issues that really matter – education, nutrition, child care, unemployment, poverty, followed by Kashmir, Naxals et al. They have been blessed with a strong mandate, and inaction would surely attract capital punishment at the next hustings.

Oh, and by the way, while they get on with their work, I wish to at least once meet the entity which they say is responsible for all of it – the Indian Voter. S/he is the bhagya vidhata of our politicians and indeed of our country, because it is s/he who decides who would rule us. All the surveys and editorials talk about he/r.

I wish this being would remain awake more often than every 5 years it does now, and guide the government with the same iron hand it has elected it.  

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Indian Express, 14th May'09

Indian Express of 13th May'09 carried a photograph of a proposed four-faced statue of Mayawati. I thought I was above contempt for this woman but a fesh wave of nausea surprised me. 

Today's Indian Express Delhi Edition carries my following letter in response:

"Mayafication ■ MAYAWATI’S photograph on your front page (‘Maya, Maya...’, IE, May 13) aptly summed up all that Mayawati actually stands for — self glorification, ideology be damned.

While there’s no denying that much needs to be done still for Dalit empowerment the big question remains whether this purpose is being served through Mayawati’s wasteful expenditure. I am surprised at the collective silence of our intelligentsia.

— Rahul Gaur Gurgaon"

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Indian Express April 18 2009

Following is my letter to the editor about the Naxal problem, published in IE of 18th April'09.

Help and Punish
The image of a policeman in a dingy cell, writing his report as a slain security man lies on a post mortem table, is a poignant reminder of the grim realities of our democratic republic, beyond the usual post-poll smiles we are usually treated to (First Phse, Naxals cast their bullet, IE, April 17). 
While the state's failure to tackle the Maoists stares us in the face, it must also be acknowledged that the Naxalite problem did'nt surface overnight.
The rise of these ruthless murderers owes also to the systematic neglect and exloitation of the tribals. These marginalised people are now being exploited by the Naxalites to push their agenda.
As we celebrate our democratic carnival, our leaders should devise manifold policies to uplift these poor people and work out strategies to defeat the Naxalites. 
Rahul Gaur, Gurgaon

Once again, the erudite editors have tweaked the content to probably suit their style. But yes, the gist remains intact.
I invite your comments on this Naxal problem.

Sunday, April 05, 2009

Outlook, April 13, 2009

Outlook, March 30 issue carried an interesting cover-story, which talked about how the brains behind the success of almost all the major politicians are Brahmins.  To a prejudiced mind, it could be termed as almost eulogising Brahmins.

My take on this story is carried in the Letter section of the present issue of Outlook and goes as follows:

Your cover story Backroom Brahmins (Mar 30) has dared to put forth a brave and thought-provoking thesis, which no publication would touch upon, lest it be accused of "propagating Brahmin supremacy and caste politics in these modern times". Political correctness aside, I wish this thesis was extended/tested with other occupations also. I am no historian or social scientist, but I think such a study would bear out the fact that the much derided caste system was actually a functional division based on personality traits and types—horizontal rather than vertical.
Rahul Gaur, Gurgaon 

I am really of the opinion that the caste system in its origin must have been a great psychological tool to categorise personalities for optimum utilization of societal resources. 

It is only with centuries of abuse perpetrated by petty self-interests that it degenerated in to a vile tool and created water-tight jackets of castes in which any osmosis was rendered impossible.

This is a touchy but interesting issue. Your enlightened opinions are awaited.  

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Sakharam Binder and The Golden Fish

Watching two plays consecutively, on each of the last two weekends, has been sort of a study in contrasts for me.

The first play I talk about was titled “The Golden Fish”, a play for children, and part of a kids’ theatre festival, which we randomly walked into, thinking it as no more than a time pass evening for our 7 year old son.
On the contrary, we were pleasantly surprised to watch an immensely enjoyable and brilliant play, which managed to reach out to even us adults, what to talk about the kids. It is based on a poem of the same name by the famous Russian poet Alexander Pushkin, and talks about an old fisherman, his greedy wife, and a generous & miraculous gold-fish. How the greedy wife is justly rewarded is the mainstay of the play.
“The Golden Fish”, we learnt, is produced by a society named Khilona, and was presented as a part of International World Day of Theater for Children, in collaboration with ASSITEJ – International Association of Theater for Children and Young People.
Khilona, we also learnt, is a 20 year old theater society specializing in dramas and workshops only for kids. It is run by Mr. VK Sharma, who is an NSD graduate and an acclaimed director himself, who has directed this present production too.
In this play, VK used an interactive narrative – sort of conversational building blocks, right from the introduction of the cast in the beginning – an approach which surely appealed to kids. Aided by pithy dialogues which do not talk down to the kids, good acting, simple but interesting props and of course a tight direction, the play progressed as a fun-filled informal interaction would naturally happen in group of kids.
It was a treat to watch and is highly recommended. I would be on look out for other plays from Khilona in future.

In contrast is the second play, which I watched just yesterday - the extremely famous “Sakharam Binder”, which was presented by Abhyan (or is it Abhiyan?) and directed by the equally famous theater doyen Rajinder Nath.
Having earlier watched a stupendous performance of “Ghasiram Kotwal”, which is also written by Tendulkar, at the NSD some time back, and having read a bit about Sakharam Binder, I was really very excited about it.
Sakharam Binder is one of the most noted & controversial plays written by Vijay Tendulkar. The protagonist, Sakharam, a book binder by profession, is alone in this world except for a close friend Dawood. He does not believe in marriage and considers it as hypocrisy. Instead, he picks up discarded women, giving them shelter and food in return of companionship and sex (forced, mainly). But, he is sure his candor is virtue enough, which rises above all these shortcomings. The play deals about the complex relationship with two women – Laxmi and Champa – the development of, and interesting culmination to, these relationships.
With the benefit of such a background, however, I must mention that I was sorely disappointed in the presentation.
Sanjeev Jauhari as the foul-mouthed protagonist no doubt gave a powerhouse performance, using wonderful inflections even to the swear-words, and body language.
However, to bring out the intricacies of the complex relationship, which was the mainstay of the script according to me, what was needed was an equally proficient performance from the other two woman characters. It was here that the play faltered, owing to below par performances from both the woman characters.
And, I could faintly sense an overbearing attitude of the director, who I think believed that only the fame of the play would carry it through. There was no interaction at all with the audience – neither through a synopsis at the beginning nor at the time of curtain call, where we expected an introduction to the actors and the director. At the end, when all of us got up and filed out, it felt, as my wife mentioned, a little like a movie hall. Which, you would agree, is something a true theaterwallah would not like to hear.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Indian Express, Delhi; March 20, 2009

Today's Indian Express, Delhi carries my letter about the now-famous hate-speech of Varun Gandhi:
Foul Mouth
VARUN GANDHI’S hate speech should be condemned in the harshest of terms for its blatant communalism and the speechmaker punished (‘Shocking language’, IE, March 18). During troubled times — when our secular fabric is already stretched to the extreme — such criminally irresponsible remarks, that too from a public podium and supposedly in the cause of democracy, are the last thing the country needs. The BJP has distanced itself from Varun but it needs to clarify what it thinks about the affair to the public.

The last line has been tweaked by them probably to suit their style, but I must admit that this has taken the sting out of my proposition.
Here is what I actually wrote to them:
BJP may have publicly distanced itself from Varun, but in their hearts, they would be feeling proud to see their agenda articulated in such clear terms, shorn of all verbal embellishments. Rather, I would go so far as to suggest that this might be a part of a pre-conceived plan by BJP to assure its loyalists.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

होली है!

Here is wishing all of you a very Happy and, as it is politically correct to say now, safe Holi!
Below is a verse I wrote many years back, when me and my wife were still new to the city, with no friends, "celebrating" our first holi completely alone and away from home.
I remember both of us waited the whole day for somebody to come and play holi with us - unsuccessfully. At the end of the day, the acute feeling of being complete strangers found its expression thus:
मेरी बदरंग नीरसता के भीतर
आज फिर उग आया हैं
फागुन का सपनीला एक इन्द्रधनुष,
जिसके सात रंगों के पार
मैं देख रहा हूँ
बरसों पहले के, रंगों के बादल -
चटक लेकिन, आज भी!
सुन रहा हूँ
उल्लासित खिल्खिलाहटें हो-हुल्लड़!
महसूसता हूँ -
शीतल, आत्मीय फुहारें,
अंतस पर अपनें।
बीते बरसों की ये किरचें
आज फिर बैठ जाएँगी
चुपके से, पलकों की कोरों पर,
जिन्हें आज फिर,
रख दूँगा सहेज कर,
मन की दरक में,
और शामिल हो कर अनजानी भीड़ में,
पुकारूँगा ज़ोर से -
होली है !

Saturday, March 07, 2009

Not History, Michael

(Image from www.last.fm)
This morning as I woke up, “Beat It” by Michael Jackson was playing on the radio. And, I was instantly reminded of two persons.
One was, of course Jackson himself, who for me still remains the King of Pop, albeit I admit that the list of “angrezi” singers I am aware of and have heard to is quite impoverished.
The other is my very dear old friend whom I would address as Parry Luther, his preferred moniker a quarter of century back when we were silly teenagers. It was courtesy him that I, a small–town-boy was introduced to a hitherto unexplored world of western music.
And what was western music, if not Michael Jackson! For years, I reveled in the rich sounds of Thriller, followed by Bad and then History.
Parry diligently continued to arrange a wide variety of the latest western pop for us initiated but even with all the choice, Jackson always remained a favourite, with his magnificently distinct vocals & music, his fantastic dancing (moonwalk et al), his grand stage shows and videos with superb production values.
As Wikipedia says, “Time magazine described Jackson's influence as "Star of records, radio, rock video. A one-man rescue team for the music business. A songwriter who sets the beat for a decade. A dancer with the fanciest feet on the street. A singer who cuts across all boundaries of taste and style and color too".
I am deeply saddened to see that today Jackson has been reduced to a caricature of himself, a pale, pale shadow of the phenomenon he was. True it is that success & fame are not worn lightly by everybody.
It is a strange coincidence that as I end this day, the last news item which comes to my notice is that Jackson has announced his swansong in London. I wish him all the very best.
Parry, what say?

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Oye Its Farhan's Friday!

I am not an avid watcher of TV but even with my limited viewing, the inverse relationship of quality and quantity is not hard to miss.
Whether it is a reality show (frightening, really!!), some silly soap, news or even interviews, mostly the content on the telly is downright dumb.
It is in this context that the variety show “Oye Its Friday!” hosted by Farhan Akhtar quite simply stands out for its refreshing brilliance, seen on the TV after a long time.
Although it is technically a variety show, a major part is about Farhan interviewing the guests, leading to an inevitable comparison with earlier chat-shows of Simi Garewal and Karan Johar, other filmi insiders interviewing their fraternity.
I remember Simi as being positively mannequin-ish & maudlin, and Karan as very stylish and intelligent. Both, however, were overbearing – the former most of the time and the latter some of it.
In contrast, Farhan is sheer fun. His intelligence and delightful tongue-in-cheek humour permeates through the scripted lines, so visible in his clever turn of phrase and efficient wordplay (with Javed Akhtar and Honey Irani as his parents, can you expect anything different?). And, it is delightful to watch his unpretentiousness and masti quotient inevitably get to the guest. The episodes with Shahrukh and Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy were simply crackling with energy.
Adding to it is the ensemble of various interesting garnishing items like gags, songs, dances, instrument recitals, rope tricks, acrobats, what–have–you.
In short – good conceptualizing and even better presentation. Talking about the Indian telly, a rarity indeed!

Sunday, February 15, 2009

A Worthy Valentine

Since the day the cowardly attacks on innocent young boys and girls happened in a pub in Mangalore, I had been dreading what would happen on the Valentine’s Day. Thankfully, yesterday was largely peaceful.
It is clear however that this state-sponsored cordiality is merely a superficial dressing. Slowly but surely, the fault-lines between the self-appointed “guardians” of a glorious “Indian” sanskruti and the supposedly liberal thinking modern youth have come to run quite deep now.
It is a good time to think whether these fault-lines are as clearly defined in black and white as we think them to be? And, most importantly, where does one fit in, whose side one is on. A decade back, you needn’t have bothered to even ask me. I was young enough to root for “freedom” above all. Now, my take is a little different.
I am no closet member of Shri Ram Sene (how can they malign this name!!). I however seriously feel that in the garb of modernity, this “freedom & liberty” bit has been overplayed a bit by a small section of our populace, including the English media. After all, why do we need to be free from our culture and traditions so badly? What great purpose in life is being held from us by our allegiance to these traditions?
Forgive me for spewing clichés like a true-blue (or red?) Marxist, but it does remain a fact that the economic imperialism being perpetrated for so many years by the west has indeed skewed our reference points now, so that there is apparently no other individual goal except immediate self–gratification. And it is this exalted goal which is being lent inaccessible by the whole body of our culture and traditions.
It helps of course that the self-appointed custodians of culture are another over-zealous & misguided ideologues leading a whole bunch of equally misguided youth, most of which give in to being utilized because they are suffering from an acute identity crisis and have got nothing more worthwhile to do.
I wish we were seeking liberty and freedom for achieving some greater value addition to the society in areas where it actually matters, which would have made this fight more justified.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Life's lessons or Death's?

An unfortunate death of a family elder took me recently to my hometown Bikaner in Rajasthan.
Notwithstanding the tragedy of the moment, what struck me wondrously, and in ways more than one, was the import of our social mores and customs, as they fit in all the facets of our life – from a celebration to a calamity; how the sincerity and honesty with which these customs are practiced in our small towns and cities makes them so relevant & useful, more so in times of grief.
I could see that none of the visiting ladies, who had come to commiserate with the widow, sported the bindi, in deference to her immense grief.
I could see that while the funeral procession passed through the bazaar, even some strangers joined in the funeral procession, chanting the holy name and taking turns to be the pall-bearers, brethren in a shared mourning, so to say.
I could see that all the people we passed, irrespective of their religious or caste affiliations, paused in whatever they were doing to pay obeisance to the dead. This included even the drivers of all the vehicles we passed. Those driving two-wheelers got off their vehicles.
I could see that while at the cremation grounds, none of the young were allowed to touch the feet of their elders in reverence, which is otherwise always expected of them. After all, each one of us was in attendance of the one irrefutable truth of life – the death, whom none could surpass in importance.
Far from being some inconsequential, dead rituals, as we forward–looking types are wont to consider them, I think all our customs are actually very finely-tuned responses to the psychological and social demands of the particular occasion.
It would therefore do well for us to neither discard our customs as hogwash nor mechanically adhere to them but to make an effort and understand their import, which could certainly enrich our lives a little bit.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Republic Day 09

As we approach another Republic Day, mouthing platitudes about our strong & vibrant democracy, it is depressing to be reminded of the depths our polity has actually plunged to. This latest realization is courtesy two news items in the Indian Express of 24th Jan09, which hit me right in the morning.

The first was about a sweetshop owner in Thane, who has been threatened by the goons of MNS to change the 60 year old shop’s name from “Karachi Sweets”, objecting to the use of a Pakistani city’s name. It would be really hilarious, had it not been so terrifyingly true.
More than the outlandish threat, the unfortunate part is the alacrity with which the owners have gone ahead and already renamed their shop as Jai Shree Krishna Sweets. Is it not shameful that the all-powerful state can not guarantee protection to an innocent person against a madman or two and their bunch of thugs? Surely, a glowing tribute to the Fundamental Rights enshrined in our constitution!
This is neither the first nor an isolated incident, we all know. This outfit (and others of its clan) have been working at it for quite some time now – playing with emotions of vulnerable people, and dividing & pitting them against each other by raking up non-existent issues, in process consolidating their own goonda power.
I really do not understand why the government of the day hesitates to take strict action against such a vulgar mockery of the rule of law.

The second relates to the queen of megalomaniacs Mayawati.
I am given to understand vide a report that a whopping 90% of the UP’s culture budget of this year has been spent on making sculptures, most of them of Madam Mayawati herself.
Notwithstanding all the talk of her being the symbol of Dalit empowerment, does no body of her followers see through this act and realize that this is just part-narcissism, part-get-filthy-rich obsession? How can she fleece her own people of their hard-earned money on these monstrosities which do nothing except feed her own ego? Another Imelda Marcos in the making, is she?

But I remain hopeful. Surely, वो सुबह कभी तो आएगी! Happy Republic Day!!

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Overdose Obama

This morning, you could have been pardoned for thinking you were in America, going by the all-out coverage of Obama's inauguration in the Indian media. (btw, just how does a person gets "inaugurated", I do not understand. Birth - yes; death - maybe yes; but inauguration? Wasn't it something to do with events or buildings or some such life-like objects?) . A clear case of overdose, considering even our own president election did not get this type of coverage.
Me and good friend Kay were discussing why is this happening; why even newspapers with usually balanced perspectives (like Indian Express) featured this event so out of proportion, and we decided it was because of two reasons.
First, the world, and India more so, is desperately in need of charismatic heroes today. And, Obama is, no doubt, one of the most charismatic public figures on the present world stage. His leadership skills and effectiveness remain to be seen, but charisma, he has loads of, and using his remarkable oratorial skills, he has managed to project himself as a beacon of hope in these troubled times. (It of course helps that America's mighty marketing machine is at work here).
Second, like it or not, America does remain the sole super-power, the चौधरी of the global village, who controls most of the economy and decides the pecking order of the world.
But at the end of it, we should not mind it, as long as it is followed by real performance and results, which we look forward to.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Ghazini

Till about a couple of months back, I thought Ghazini to be a period drama about the (in)famous Mahmud of Ghazni. After watching it yesterday, I now wish it was. At least it would have been some novelty to watch.
Ghazini has been a letdown, and I am frankly surprised at the claims of the record business it has already reaped in.
The concept and story surely have an immense potential to be turned in to a great psychological thriller.
However, owing to a totally un-imaginative treatment, the film remains throughout a prisoner to only brute, physical action, in spite of having an actor like Aamir Khan.
The psychological and mental warfare by the character of Aamir, which could have been the mainstay of the film, is touched upon only tentatively and that too only at the fringes. Murugadoss was probably cautious not to let the film become too obtuse for the masses.
Aamir is his usual perfect self in most of the movie but in some of the scenes, where he is required to scream and generally show his angst, he surprisingly goes overboard. Asin is tacky and school-girlish (except for her final scene) and Ghazini probably needed somebody more sinister to justify the title character.
Take Aamir and the two main songs out and there would be nothing left in it to distinguish it from your run-of-the-mill action films.
All in all, a letdown.
Different takes, any one?

Thursday, January 15, 2009

जाड़ा

I was rummaging through my old papers a couple of days back, when I came across one I wrote in December 1991. It is about winters, seen from three different perspectives.। I thought it might be relevant to share it with you now, while the famous "Dilli ki sardi"is here:
एक
जाड़ा
सिमटा सिमटा, सकपकाया सा,
घूमता बाहर कोठी के दालान में,
एयर-कंडीशनरों से, और शनील की रजाइयों से बचता बचाता,
शाम को इम्पोर्टेड व्हिस्की से लड़ने को प्रत्यनरत
खिड़कियों में ही अटका,
अन्दर आ पाने को बे-चैन यहाँ पर जाड़ा!
दो
जाड़ा
खुशनुमा
सुनाई पड़ता मूंग-फली के टूटे छिलकों में,
चिपटा गुढ की पापडी में,
पसरा हुआ आँगन ही की धुप ही के साथ
दादी माँ के चश्में में मुंह चिडाता,
शाम को, रसोई के अलाव के बाहर,
चाय के कप पर
भाप का बादल बन कर
उड़ता सा आ जाता है, जाड़ा
तीन
जाड़ा,
भयावह
ठंडी सड़कों पर पड़ा गुर्राता,
और कातर, नंगी एडियों को नोचता, खसोटता,
झपट पड़ता, पागल कुत्ते सा,
टूटे दरवाजे से, खिड़की की झिर्री से,
पैबंद लगे कपडों से आकर
नंगे, भूखे शरीरों को नोच खाता हैं
जाड़ा
I invite your comments.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Slumdog fraternity

The alacrity with which our media and Bollywood have come out to embrace “Slumdog Millionaire” as one of their own, after it has won four Golden Globe awards, somewhat irritates me.

No, I have nothing against the film. In fact, I have not even watched it. And from what I hear and see about it, I would surely not be disappointed once I do (although the book by Vikas Swarup was hopeless, as one of my friends insists).

The film is said to boast of superb direction by Danny Boyle, a fabulous musical score by AR Rahman (congratulations for the award!) and some very decent acting by Irrfan, Anil Kapoor, Dev Patel and others. All great individual efforts worthy of applause.

But it has to be clearly understood that the Indian connection and context, over which our media is going gaga, is purely incidental.

A film is essentially a director’s medium, his vision which unfolds on to the screen. I am sure that the story telling abilities of a director of the caliber of Danny Boyle is not limited by the locale or the back-drop, and it is entirely to his credit that he has utilized the Indian backdrop so effectively.

Notwithstanding, therefore, the well-deserved praise for the craft of this film (I presume), it would do well for us not to rush in to falsely appropriate claims which are not due to us, like we did with Kalpana Chawla, Bobby Jindal etc. We surely have enough other genuinely Indian things to be proud of.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Outlook Jan19, 09

Let's start the year with a heavy dose of self-publicity.

The Jan 19 issue of Outlook - first of this year - carries 2 letters of mine, which I wish to share with you:

The first one is on the article Arundhati Roy wrote after the Mumbai terror attacks:

Arundhati is clearly very rattled by the Mumbai attacks. Her prose, usually so lucid and a treat to read whether or not you agree with her, is this time rambling and repetitive. Along with the form, the function too suffers from a complete lack of new insight. Instead, she has once again propped up her all-time favourite villains—Gujarat genocide, "atrocities" in Kashmir, Hindutva, powerful and sinister politicians et al, which have supposedly led to this (almost justified!) retribution from the Muslims of the world. This is a tad too over the top. Notwithstanding the "decades of quick-fixes and dirty deeds", these terrorists were no disgruntled Indian Muslims whereby these attacks could be explained in the above context. I wouldn’t even term them as Pakistanis. People like them are above nationalities, owing allegiance only to their own pure hatred and warped mindsets, global citizens of the Terror Republic.


The second one is a response to the Happiness Prescription in an earlier issue:

I noted sadly that the list of books prescribed for happiness (Rev Up Your H Quotient) included not a single book in Hindi. Maybe it needed Manjula Padmanabhan, the selector, to be a more pan-Indian author to include gems like Raag Darbari (Shrilal Shukla) and a collection of essays by the great Harishankar Parsai.
R.G., on e-mail


Did they use my initials to convey that we were two different readers writing in?

Thursday, January 01, 2009

Saal Mubarak

Till late last night, when the year 2008 was inching towards its end, overwhelming despondency was what I felt, I would admit.
What else could one could expect, I consoled myself, when all around we had seen some of the most troubling moments served by fate & nature all the year round – financial meltdown, Bihar floods, temple stampedes, communal & regional riots, along with some murders and rapes thrown in for good measure.
Moments of joy like Abhinav Bindra’s gold medal, N-deal’s passage and Rock On were few and far in between. And, at the end, when it seemed nothing worse could happen, Mumbai was attacked brazenly, the shadow of which loomed high.
I, along with few friends (wife & son were away), tried to shake off this shroud of gloom, gyrating over rustic beats of “Oye Lucky” and “Singh is King” around a small bonfire but in the end, went to sleep as depressed as ever, after exchanging lukewarm wishes of Happy New Year.
This morning, however, as I stepped out, it was a warm & bright sunshine which greeted me, and the gloom of last night suddenly evaporated.
I pride myself on not being a romantic but the sight of beautiful bouqets and a contented, happy smile from the flower-vendor was all it took to instantly fill me up with hope and cheer again.
I now feel strangely comforted and confident of myself. I also wish that each one of us is able to put down one’s demons firmly down, to have a really Happy, Peaceful, Prosperous Year 2009!
Cheers

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Oye Lucky

Oye Lucky is a delightful slice of Delhi life on celluloid. The vigenettes and caricatures are flaw-less, as were in Dibakar Banerjee’s last film – Khosla Ka Ghosla. It seems like a hilarious documentary, if there is such a genre, that is.
Regretfully, however, it remains just that - a documentary, refusing to take off as a story. And thus, in spite of excellent acting efforts by Paresh Rawal, Abhay Deol and all other actors, it remains a little lower than the perfect 10 mark. Still, a sure not-to-be-missed.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

The Kite Runner

“The Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini was recommended to me by a dear friend almost a year back.

For all this time, however, this book did not figure in my priority reads. I was vaguely aware that it had Afghanistan as its backdrop, and for some strange reason, my mind connected this with the boring and hugely pretentious “The Afghan” (Frederic Forsyth). I now sincerely regret this long wait of one year.

The Kite Runner is an endearingly honest and from–the–heart story, the kind one rarely comes across in the artificiality of your usual pulp fiction these days.

This is primarily a story of a young Afghani boy Amir and his various relationships –with his servant–friend Hassan, with his father, with his motherland Afghanistan and more importantly, with himself.

Hosseini has treated this beautiful panorama of relationships with amazing sensitivity and truthfulness, specially the father-son relation. This depiction of father–son relation is the best I have come across in my limited reading experience.

And the love Hosseini feels for his motherland Afghanistan is so palpable in his descriptions, which are refreshingly different from the usual western views one gets these days.

To me, however, more creditworthy is that for a first–time writer, he has been able to achieve the rare feat of making the reader intensely feel all the love, happiness, pain & anguish of the characters without indulging in any excessive verbal calisthenics.

A must read – “a thousand times over”!!

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Oh Calcutta!

(Image courtesy: media-cdn.tripadvisor.com)

To borrow a cliché – cities are like people – each one with a distinct character, a different personality and of course, a very individual first impression they leave on the observer.

I recently visited Calcutta for the first time. I was armed with all sorts of prejudices – traffic jams, power cuts, militant left, pollution and poverty. It was a very short business visit of only a couple of days, with a very tight itinerary. Delhi and Mumbai were my only other metro benchmarks. Not all the right qualifications, but perfect for a snap-shot first impression.

Now, talking about first impressions, I am sure Delhi would seem like a brash young woman (okay, a man, maybe), with a very in–your–face attitude to the first–time visitor. Mumbai would be like probably a snooty glam-girl.

In comparison, Calcutta seems like a wizened old lady, who has “been there and done that”.

The majesty of downtown Calcutta is best epitomized by the huge, stately buildings with big pillars, high ceilings and wide staircases, typical relics of the Raj. Even though these buildings now house government organizations of the most run–of–the–mill–type, and private companies of different market standings, the suggestion of the administrative and financial power their occupants might have once wielded over this country still exudes therefrom.

In contrast, I passed by various seemingly derelict old houses – moss–ridden, with blackened walls and crumbling facades, which, I thought, were abandoned, till I saw families inhabit them. They might not be representative of the city, and I might be romanticizing a bit, but the contrast is too glaring to miss. I wish I would see more of the residential quarters of the city, those fabled “paras”, when I am here the next time.

With a long experience of the Delhi rush-hour traffic, the much maligned traffic volume does not surprise me. It is the fine art of jay–walking, however, which I find absolutely fantastic.

An astonishingly large number of people in crowded bazaars, lanes and main roads walk like apparitions – running, hopping, skipping, dodging and stretching – past all the traffic, including the bloated–frog–like yellow taxis, the ramshackle local buses and yes, the trams – those run-down carriages seemingly stuck in a time–warp.

Due to the nature of my trip, I was not able to interact with the real people and enjoy the authentic Bengal cuisine. I would be able to make up for this the next time I am here. Which would be sooner rather than later, I am sure.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Coffee?

“Ta Ra Rum Pum”, which I watched last Sunday, reminded me of the “espresso coffee” one is served in wedding pandals – high on froth but when you go digging for some substance, practically there is nothing to be found. The last time I got this feeling was when I watched Dhoom-2.

If movie–making is basically good story–telling, as I remember having read somewhere and what I think is correct, in my view these films should not have been made at all. Without even a semblance of a story, these movies are nothing more than a sequence of beautifully crafted advertisements, juxtaposed against each other, designed to merely titillate sans any stimulation.

Almost all such movies come from a big banner with a bigger star-cast, which succeeds in fooling one in to watching it, only to repent later. Wish the next time they could squeeze in some plain, old-fashioned story-telling.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

The Last King of Scotland

I would be lying if I said that I was looking forward to watching the movie – The Last King of Scotland. I mean, tyrannical dictators & despots, assuming power by staging coups, have long since ceased to be a novelty, haven’t they?

I therefore braced myself for some boring docu-drama about Idi Amin – the long–forgotten, cannibal dictator. Thankfully, I could not have been more wrong.

The Last King of Scotland is a brilliant film, which merits a watch for reasons more than one – first, an excellent and justifiably award–winning performance by the lead-actor Forrest Whittaker as Idi Amin, and second –in spite of the small garnishing of fiction, it is one of those movies which provide one with a reference point in history

The story of the movie is from the perspective of Amin’s personal physician – Dr. Garrigan who, from being a nobody, rises to the top echelons of power, among the most trusted aides of Amin himself.

Initially charmed by Amin’s ostentatious show of concern towards the poor of his country, Dr. Garrigan later comes to know the horrors Amin & his coterie has inflicted on the masses.

But by that time, he realizes he is entrapped in the vicious quagmire and in a reversal of fortune, he just escapes being murdered by Amin’s henchmen to flee from the state incognito.

More than being a story, the movie actually scores in bringing out in detail not only the eccentricities, whims & tantrums of a dictator drunk on absolute power, but also his insecurities & fears in illuminating detail. A must watch.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Paincho!!

I remember, in my child-hood, swear & curse words being referred to as “helping verbs”. At that time, the reason for this nomenclature eluded me but now, in saaddi Dilli, I realize the aptness.

Now when my work, and pleasure occasionally, takes me around Delhi, and when my ears are treated to a wide variety of lingo – all peppered with enough garnishing of these “helping verbs”, I find that your everyday “Painchos” and “Machos” indeed do help a large number of Delhites make meaningful conversations with their fellow citizens.

So much so that there are people I know who, if their p…’s and m….’s are proscribed, would be left completely tongue-tied, devoid of even rudimentary conversation tools and skills.

So, the next time when you crib about the lack of decent language & tehzeeb in Delhi, spare a thought for those true Delhites who, but for these helping verbs, would not have been able to talk even, let alone talking properly, poor chaps!

Friday, January 19, 2007

Yuhin

This is one advantage of having a virtual absence of visitors on your blog – you can come and go as you please. This posting comes after a long time but I can rest assured of no admonitions.
While I was away there has been a whole gamut of happenings – from the positively gruesome like Nithari to uplifting ones like the Mattoo and Jessica verdicts. And yes, the popcorn fare – like Abhiash & Shilpa “Big Brother” recently.
Nithari is horrific actually – so much so that sometimes you feel you are being taken through some film plot. Wish it were so.
The court verdicts gave us hope that given a reason good enough, our much ridiculed system and public have the capacity to rise above the “chalta hai – hota hai” attitude which we are all so infamous for.
And how can I forget the very recent Abhiash phenomenon? Forgive me if your sensibilities are hurt but I must admit that I read this news on the front page before I read any other serious fare. And I was happy for both of them. Now, please do not start that bit about “begaani shaadi mein…..”
About this Shilpa Shetty affair – her being ridiculed on the Big Brother UK, what I feel about the whole issue is very succinctly presented in an article in the Hindi daily “Dainik Amar Ujala” dated 18th Jan’07. Too bad I can not paste the link here because of some technical incompetence on my part.
Will close this post here, while promising myself that I would try to be more regular.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Brake Fail

What’s with the song-remixes these days, I cannot quite understand.
Not very long ago, remixes were basically fast-paced versions of old hits, set to contemporary beats and in more modern voices. Remember “Chura Liya” by Bally Sagoo?
These were created to appeal to the supposedly newer generation. Fast-paced, because it was a given that the “newer” generation was leading a fast-paced life and was handicapped with shorter attention spans. True, maybe.
But can somebody explain why does one need to create a remix of a new song, which, by virtue of its music and feel, is already sufficiently “fast paced”? What elusive, mindless speed are these songs trying to run on to?
Try listening to the remix of “Kajrare” and you would know what I mean. It is just a cacophony interspersed with metallic voices, which are so common these days. Then there are those Himesh songs – it seems each version of a song is faster than the earlier one.
To use an old Bollywoodian phrase – “Maine uski gaadi ke brake phail kar diye hain, ab voh nahin bach sakta!!” Somebody please set right the brakes!

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Ramayana

(Image Courtesy: www.bl.uk)

I am definitely not making a revelation when I say that Ramayana is a timeless epic, such which is penned only once in a million years.

I am however even more amazed at its timeless appeal, of its quality of lending itself beautifully to contexts, situations, periods and treatments so different from the original and not necessarily religious in nature.

I first experienced it about 15 years back when I read the complete 5-volume version in Hindi – “Deeksha”, “Awsar”, Sangharsh Ki Or”, “Yudh – 1” & “Yudh-2’, penned by the celebrated Hindi writer – Narendra Kohli. Sadly, however, only an abridged, 2-volume series (Abhyudaya-1 & 2) is what I have found available in the market presently.

It is an extremely interesting and eminently readable series, more of a sociological & political thesis of those imagined times. It traces the journey (both inner & outer) of Ram, who is no God but a mortal prince–in–exile. The sketchiness, if I may use the word, of the original plot has been filled-in with a vivid interplay of intra & interpersonal relations.

I experienced it for the second time recently when I finished the last (last published, I mean) of the Ramayana series by the new-age author – Ashok Banker. Till now, 5 books in this series have been brought out in the market – “Prince of Ayodhya”, “Siege of Mithila”, “Demons of Chitrakut”, “Armies of Hanuman” and recently, “Bridge of Rama”.

Though Ram is still no God in this series, the treatment is a far departure from the Kohli series (apart from the language – Banker is in English). This is an extremely rich, unadulterated fantasy tale for a young, global audience.

Keeping the basic plot intact, Banker writes with a sense of ownership, playing around with various characters and sub-plots dexterously as if it is his own story, which, curiously enough, is the biggest strength of this series. There are various new, fantastical dimensions in the story - demons & gods & sorcery & of course, the new facets to the relationships between the characters.

Banker has not completed yet, and I am eagerly awaiting his next book. Meanwhile, I think, I would read Narendra Kohli again.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Billboards

Remember the outdoor advertising a few years back?

For the sarkari or sarkari type ads designed for plebian tastes, you had a wall painted with safedi & the message printed in neel. After some time, the colours faded and street- urchins took unprintable liberties with the syntax of the message.

For real class products like suitings – shirtings, there was a galvanized board which was actually made by joining various sheets. More often than not, it was painted garishly as a distorted approximation of a print advertisement and after some time, one of the corners managed to hang out precariously.

In the last few years, however, there has been such a marvelous change in the quality and the concept of the advertisement hoardings that to me it seems this is the single most visible indicator of our economic development.

Leave apart the big malls or swanky showrooms, even the corner juice-wallah has life-like Shahrukh or Rani Mukherji sitting atop their shed, extolling the virtues of the respective cold-drink.

And this is not restricted to only the consumer products. The tyre shops, garages, cycle repair shops, hotels, property dealers, gyms, beauty parlours – everyone is in to these glam hoardings (do they still call it that?). The bus stops, train stations and everywhich place is a collage of glamorous advertising.

Sometimes, it feels all these hoardings are talking about some different India - a shiny, smiling, bright, blemishless India, which is altogether on a different planet. If only....

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Taxi Wallah

At the end of yet another outstation tour last week, I plonked myself in the back seat of the taxi I had hired for the day. A whole 200 kms of soliloquy or silence, in absence of a functional car radio or any other traveling companion, stretched before me.

As the car started and I relaxed, I learnt that the mild-mannered young taxi-wallah was named Abbas and his family was back home in Bihar. In a manner of small–talk, I asked him about his education. “Madarse mein islam ki taleem liye hain, sir, nau jamaat tak”, he replied. (I have studied Islam till 9th standard in a seminary).

Fed on the media induced prejudice for long and, let me admit, my being conscious of the class-divide that supposedly stretched between us, no further conversation seemed possible.

“But me, Sir”, he continued, “I believe that up there, there is but only one God. It’s just that our ways of calling out to him are different.”

Now, this was interesting, coming from a so-called “madarsa product”! I peered in to the rear-view mirror and saw his truthful eyes. And that was the start of a 4 hour-long dialogue between us.

He told me about his father – a dutiful government teacher, a loving mother and one sister. He told me about the vagaries of his job and how, in face of adversities, he was trying to keep his imaan intact.

But what we mainly discussed was the difference and, more importantly, the sameness of two religions – his and mine, Muslim and Hindu.

As he was eager to explain to me the story of Baba Adam, so was he curious to know about the Hindu concept of atman; as he patiently heard the basis of tri-murti, so he explained to me the one-ness of Allah; on the one hand he explained to me why Muslims do not keep idols or pictures in their place of worship, on the other hand he theorized why, for a Hindu who has not yet attained the highest religious state, an idol is a necessary aid for concentration.

More than his knowledge & awareness, it was his willingness to accommodate the other point of view, which I found to be a rarity and gave him, so to say, an exalted status in my eyes. Let’s face it - so many of us, so-called educated people lack this willingness, having turned our minds in to ghettos, which nurture hatred for “the other”.

As we entered Delhi, passing beneath huge hoardings carrying advertisements of TV serials, Abbas looked at me in his rear-view mirror and said– “Jab duty par nahin hota, toh TV par aap logon ka Ramayan bahut dekhta hoon main, Sir. Ram kitne dayalu
hain na?”


Saturday, April 08, 2006

Veebhatsa-Rasa

Somebody please wake me up!! Seemingly, I am in a time warp, some 2 thousand years ago, with my old-world sense of aesthetics still intact (or so I prefer to believe)!
How else do I console myself when I read that a Brooklyn art gallery is planning to exhibit a profound sculpture next month – a life-size nude sculpture of pop star Britney Spears giving birth on a bear-skin rug! (http://www.hindustantimes.com/news/181_1662539,00470001.htm)
Ugh! What people would enjoy looking at this grotesque work, I fail to understand.
And sample this comment from the great artist Edwards himself - "Spears provides inspiration for those struggling with the right choice." Inspiration? Choice? Sorry?

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Feluda

Let me confess it – till a month back, I had never read any of Satyajit Ray’s books or watched his movies. From whatever little I knew, he was primarily a film-maker, who touched esoteric subjects in his films and books, which he wrote occasionally, both of them primarily to be enjoyed by bhadra-lok. It happens, you know, with great people – the myth overrides the man and his works. And then average-brained persons like me can not muster enough courage to take a plunge.

But thank God to the marketing guys, for once. As I walked in to the Crossword book-shop last Sunday, a neatly packaged “Feluda” omnibus almost called out to me. And putting aside my prejudices, I picked it up. If I am allowed to say so, I haven’t regretted it since.

For the umpteenth time I have realized you do not need great-sounding works or complex plots to tell a good story. Ray’s simple and spontaneous prose flows easily and reaches out to your heart and his plots and characters are from among everyday people like you and me. I am not over with it yet and till now, the whole experience has been a bit like one’s forgotten, innocent childhood, which one cherishes all his life.

I am sure as soon as I finish with “Feluda”, I would set out to find another good book from his repertoire. Any suggestions?

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Times of India

There is an interesting quote in the The Speaking Tree column in Sunday Times of India (March 24'06), which set me thinking and I thought I should share with you.
It is ascribed to Epicurus, the Greek philosopher - "If God is willing to prevent evil but not able, then he is not omnipotent; if he is able but not willing, he is not benevolent; if he is both able and willing, whence come evil?" Whence, indeed?

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Wardi

A few weeks back, as I was walking at a very busy cross-road in Delhi during the morning rush-hour, I saw two rowdies on a motorcycle jumping a red-light. To compound the matters further, I noticed, none of them was wearing a helmet.
Trust a traffic-cop never to let such an opportunity fritter away. Soon as I thought, a traffic cop with his flailing hands, jumped in the center of the road and signaled both of them to stop. I swear I could see him salivating at the prospect of some “kamai” so early in the morning. What a way to start the day!
As happens in countless such dramas played out on our roads everyday, I fully expected the rowdies to get down, and then start their routine of cajoling, pleading, citing extremely valid reasons for such an invalid behaviour, and finally conspiratorially handing over a 50-rupee note, to be let away with a knowing smile. What followed was a complete surprise to me. Thereby this tale.
As soon as the motorcycle stopped, the pillion rider jumped down and walked with a pronounced swagger to the cop – “Oye, itna kood kyun raha hai? Hum kahin bhaage ja rahein hain kya?” (Hey, why are you jumping all over? Are we running off to somewhere?) The cop was positively astounded! After some hesitation, he tried to match up to the duo with a renewed confidence and tried to wrestle out the ignition key. The driver caught his hand firmly and snarled – “Saale, chaabi ko haath mat lagana!! Tere paon ka hi joota nikal kar itna maroonga ki bhool jayega sab kuchh!!” (#$%^&*, don't you ever touch that key! I will thrash you bad!). It was followed by a string of choicest expletives available to the Hindi language.
I could see the petrified face of the cop. He seemed to have shrunk a bit in his uniform. He beat a hasty retreat, confounded no doubt by this role-reversal, sort of. A small crowd, which had by that time gathered around, seemed equally surprised but none of them moved. Rather, most of them seemed to be enjoying his predicament.
As a law-abiding citizen, this incident should have angered me. Perverse as it may sound, at that time I actually loved it. It seemed to me a case of a doctor getting a dose of his own bitter medicine.
I would not wish this thing to be repeated. Never. But for not letting this happen again, its high time the average police personnel on the street is trained and sensitized to come out of the feudal, colonial mindset and is sensitized to the concept of human dignity and service to the people. Its then that it could expect reciprocation from your average person on the street.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

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!

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

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?

Monday, September 26, 2005

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.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

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.

Monday, May 02, 2005

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!

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

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.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

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?
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