Quote Unquote

A quick thought before i get back to work.

So i was looking to create a small sort of mind stimulating but enjoyable game for some event that my mum was organising. One of things that i was doing was to collate some of the famous quotes from people in India that people might be familiar with. To noones surprise Gandhi seemed to hijack the situation in having said some of the most memorable lines (not to mention now most oft quoted). Yet surprisingly except for a sprinkling of some others, I seemed to draw a blank in terms of quotes which had become so famous that any Indian could echo it back. I also discovered another very interesting thing. I seemed to know a whole lot of quotes from the American presidential speeches.

All this felt like a bit of a revelation really. Coz it said many things about who i was and what was happening with people like me. I figured that one of the major problems was that there was a language issue. I was looking for quotes in English. It seems english becoming the dominant language around the country has meant that a lot of our history and our engagement with it has taken a back seat. I mean how many of us schooled in urban regions have truly enjoyed Indian literature? We seem to be more conversant in the antics of Shakespeare and Milton rather than having ever read Tagore. Translations were often lame and inadequate to bring on ones enthusiasm to explore the few Indian poems or stories that were included in the syllabus. Atleast this seems to be the experience of many of my friends and me. My father, a huge fan of hindi poetry, often tried reading bits and pieces to me and while for that moment i was absorbed in what he said, i was already so steeped in the world of western literature, that strangely this was more difficult to relate to. Often when i think back on this i feel rather sad coz really it seems the dwindling of heterogenity in culture. The irony is that i am a better fit into the global world dictated by the west, adequately trained in american rhetorics and british literature. Yet far from appealing to me i recognise how this has meant an identity crisis for several of us urban kids. Many who travel to America and other countries seem like they're hoping to find a mirror of themselves there, coz they with their supposed 'western ways' cant seem to fit in here. Yet there they end up discovering that they're 'western with indian values' leaving them with a sense of being misfits anywhere.

I know all of the above is rather vague but it sort of came rushing to me. My mother and i already had a gap in terms of what we related to. For her, who studied hindi medium, another world came alive when she opened her books. And i cant help but wonder how we could possibly build the bridges between our two separate universes of experience now.

Kaki King

So saw Kaki King in the TED talks section today and absolutely looooovvveed her! While most of it was coz of her music (all the finger tapping board clapping crazy confidence bit) part of it was also that shes a girl like me who often gets to hear 'isnt that guitar too big for you?' nonsense. I wish guys could really bother with doing something good with themselves rather than commenting on women doing what they like.

And did i mention i adore her custom made guitar?

I couldn't resist putting her here... GO Kaki!!

North East Butterflies

From the top: 1. Blue pansy 2. Common Blue 3. Indian Cabbage White Pieris canidia 4. The Painted Lady 5. Blue tiger 6. Blue tiger 7.Common crow 8. Blue tiger 9.Common tiger

Hello Kaziranga :)

So i went on my first trip to the north east the past week... and it was gorgeous!! Im thinking that over a period of time I'll write different posts about the hundred things i thought and felt and saw :) For now though say hello to the one horned rhino of Kaziranga! psst and some others :D


From the top: 1.One horned rhino 2. Rhino and hog deers 3. Swamp deer 4. Coucals 5. Greater Adjutant

Waiting for dawn

Find me a new day im already done with this one
i cannot pretend to care about its hues moods
and frankly the nature of its stubborn heat
i could very well do without its stuck up self
and fold myself into the arms of another
wiser nicer more ambivalent
textured with sweetness
soft o but glowing and tenacious yet
cruel and playful a day
This one pokes at me from angles and laughs
at my retiring thoughts and pushes
them to swell into tears which tumble
without my desire to support or facilitate them
this one like a big bully flushes each failure
into a heavy gloomy cloud over my shoulders
and i bend and break beneath its weight
It hurts with inner malevolence i think
for it knows it is unloved and unwanted
undesired and being pushed to be expelled
Oh but for that change i could not wait
as it eats me like corrosive water
on the rims of copper
turning poisonous green with envy
i pray in silence and with hope for retribution
come another come another
with sleep gather my broken bones
and mend in closed eye repose
the dreams so crashed and broken
pick the pieces and join with care
oh new day
with bent head and silent prayer
with fervor and despair
it is your gentle morning light i seek
and your new blessed face i await.
---------
Painting: 'Dawn' by Iranian master artist - Mahmoud Farshchian

War and others

Its been beyond abominable watching or following news these days. War, disasters, hackings of various kind have taken over. In the past year Ive been increasingly getting alarmed at how local the idea of terror is getting.

Last year terror came knocking at my door in various forms. In B'lore a bomb went off near the place I worked and where my parents stayed. In Mumbai, near a friends place. In Ahmedabad, my housemates came out of the railway station and 17 bombs were diffused there. Various hues of extremist ideology raised their ugly heads in states previously untouched by them. Attacks were made in the name of supposed conversions- pitting religions against each other. Women were publicly attacked in the name of maintaining culture. Artists were suddenly threatened by censorship curtailing freedom and expression.

Such were the tales. As they continue to be.

Lets get out of the country now.

Recently, its been troubling me even more that Pakistan seems to be in the most grave trouble its encountered since its freedom. The rise of the taliban in Swat and the horror stories trickling out of there. Of course down south there is Sri Lanka and the almost genocidal zeal with which innocent tamil civilians are being killed by the government. Which leaves exactly no peaceful stable country around India. China's been eyeing our borders and seems to just be waiting for that opportune moment to strike and sieze.

So where does this all leave us I wonder.

I was sitting in a vehicle at a traffic junction in Mumbai recently, waiting to move. A little girl with a big smile walked upto my car and in gestures asked me for some money. I smiled back at her and as i usually dont give money and prefer buying food for children, i gently refused at that moment, shaking my head. Undeterred she smiled back and we continued our little game of shaking heads and sharing smiles. As the light changed she gave me her most winning smile and waved vigorously as we moved away.

Her face remains in my head. Like a permanent memory.

Wars. Conflicts. Economy failures. Such big words.

For me though they remain made up of little stories. Like the little girl at the window.

It must take a certain exceptional skill to allow oneself to overlook the reality of these lives and think ones cause over the right of their very existence.

A broken child
a glazed eye mother
a soul bereft soldier
some millions dead
as one watches the individual
in the multitudes swaying
the cameras click
and words yet mute
lie vacant on tv screens

how long must it be
that the land seeps in red
the rivers like hungry veins
run dark, murky and deep
till when will a poor man
hope for better days
and slowly stop believing
while a child grows
in the arms of hunger
hanging by his sanity
over the maws of death

how long must we persist
in fooling ourselves
loosing ourselves in pursuits
of wealth, justifying
illogical selfish gains
through economic theories
and capitalistic games

how long shall we exist
in denial and defiance
of the suffering impaled
in forms of smited forests
blighted people, anguished hearts
for our security sake
and other such false promises

Such has been the fate of man
that with a conscience
and thought he was gifted
yet so convoluted has been his journey
that he himself has forsaken
his kith to apathy and dust

It could have been different
it might have been of course
had we the courage to choose
the better and sweeter
the stronger and braver in us
Our fall would not have been
so long and dark and hard
so lonely so full of mistrust

But tell it to a new bud
or a little playful child
who both open their faces
and totter and sway
with first steps
into the new breeze and new horizons

Have the courage atleast to
let them know..
Tell them.. it was us.

It was us 'who held you back'
tell them look them in the eye
'who sullied your sight
the coming grief and
wars disasters crimes
staggering horrors
are our gifts
to you
we never intended for you
to rise above us
sit on our stable shoulder

so child
young bud
hear my voice
and in it my conviction
it is you i forsake
and i did so by choice'.

Nizam ka Sheher- Hyderabad

I find myself increasingly interested in cities and their structures and i mean not only their physical churnings but also how within them people, animal and many more get organised in a chaotic but somehow organised mess.

My latest has been a visit to Hyderabad. I last visited the city when i was quite young and one of my mothers favourite stories of me are situated within the Golconda fort. Apparently i was sulking for not being paid the right amount of attention to and threatened to walk off by myself, my rather unsuspecting mother very generally responded ‘why don’t you?’ and i, the little six year old, seem to have taken her words to heart and walked off without a care in the world in a completely strange city by myself... my mother kept expecting me to turn but stubborn apparently i was back then too that i turned into a speck in a hurry and my unwilling brother was sent to fetch me back. A thousand reprimands were then showered generously.

This time, i fly to the city, an adult with no fear of any major reprimands from my mother except a general dose of don’t eat street food, drink boiled water and the rest. Im here for a conference but more important to me is the meeting with two old friends scheduled after the conference. I cant wait to finish it and meet R and V- my buddies from my colony in Blore. We studied in the same school, dealt with teenage angst, held hands through corny movies, sent each other off to colleges, cooked our first experimental meals and shared a million trillion laughs together. In short we have what one might call a good load of happy history together. So for me the visit to Hyderabad isn’t about the conference so much as it is about hanging out with my girlfriends. Unfortunately all we have, due to work restrictions, is one day together. But what a nice day it was :)
I arrived at R’s place rather full of the conference one evening. R and V have spent a rather chunk load of time trying to convince me that V hasn’t been able to make it from Blore for our lil reunion due to whatever reasons. And i must say- in the most unconvincing manner. I was sure that i’d find V hiding away somewhere all set to yell ‘SURPRISE’ (One cant help but recall the birthday surprise we gave her where she got so scared that she yelled louder than all of us put together :D). Which of course i did. R’s house is an amazing place. Its like shes been storing up for some civil war thats gonna get us all suddenly. She has everything possible at her place, especially in terms of food. I mean there were loads of chocolates, ice-cream buckets, every possible type of chips, cookies, drinks and what not you may say. The food spilled from various corners in a happy cascade. I wouldn’t mind being stuck here in the eventuality of a war at all. Seriously. Her husband even has a little special collection of liqueur stuff which could help one drown out the bombing outside (we’re still with the civil war scenario) and sit in sweet bliss. Anyhow. Apart from the food the house is also a pet project of R’s who has an already incredible collection of art gathered in it. As she puts it, it could be anyones dream vacation house full with gym and laundry services :D

The next day V and i got up late to a nice brunch and with K (R’s husband) we planned out a day. We decided to keep it simple, coz it was fairly warm, and stick to visiting char minar and while we were there shop around in the local bazzars. R was vehement that we should dress in our worse so that we could melt into the local crowds (at which point V showed up in her Mojo glasses and I picked my silk dupatta). R did her bit of melting in by discreetly carrying a leather handbag which screamed i’m not Indian :). Well we honestly tried. But the thing is whoever we might pretend to be there was no fooling the shop keepers, the minute we showed up they knew us. They train them on these things im sure (of course our rather loud angrezi might have given us away. Ahem. Maybe).

Char minar was a treat. Its situated in the old city area right in the middle of a bustling bazzar. The minarets can be seen from a long distance looming over congregated steel awnings of the street bazzar ensuring that even the worst (read.. me) of us cant get lost. Its like the north star of that bazzar really. Inside, V and i climbed its stairs round and round into one of the minarets and came to the first floor. Apparently in AD 1591-92, Char minar was constructed to commemorate the eradication of plague from the city. Additions like the clocks on the four sides came much later. It is a synthesis of Mugal and Hindu architencture with pretty arches, floral designs covering its visage and dragon like figures (according to R a representation of the cats who got rid of the plague mice) standing guard. It also houses a beautiful mosque but that was locked up unfortunately. From the minar one can see the neighbouring mosque and the busy people of the city stretching out to quite a distance. I loved standing there absorbing the city from my vantage point. The fruit vendors, the cloth salesmen, the footpath vintage coin sellers, the hundred customers milling, the tourists. It seemed like everyone was so occupied. I cant help but love this place so full of different people and purposes. V and i get some lovely photos.
From the Char minar we begin wandering through the famed shopping gallis of this market. Chudi bazzar means that one you enter this galli, you can see bangle sellers till the horizon and they all call you in beseechingly... maaddaammmeee... aayiyeee... haha we couldn't melt in this crowd if we came in rags. Something about us is an absolute giveaway. Needless to say then commenced some serious buying, chudi galore for V, kaccha aam (which has just come into season) munching we walk on looking just as purposeful as the rest here. So i guess in some manner of consolation one could say we do merge. The most interesting buy though was when R came in huffing from somewhere and announced rather triumphantly that she had bought nada for Rs.10/-. Unsure if this was a bargain all of still applaud the effort. With the sudden realisation that time indeed had been on wing we rushed to pack us some biryani from a place recommended highly by K. After loading there we tumbled into an auto and tried to rush back home but managed a quick stop at Hussain Sagar Lake to admire and click the Buddha basking in the evening light.
Back home we opened the gorgeous smelling biryani and dug in with great gusto, even V usually a light eater managed a fair bite! Followed then the frantic drive for packing all things and rushing out to the airport. Many hugs exchanged and thanks bestowed on R and K for having us over and promises to write and be in touch again renewed :) V and i both are extremely thrilled about the whole day and loved your place R!

In the airport we finally catch our breath but not long into that do we spot a lovely coffee place where we must go to make everything just so perfect... we found ourselves dropping the big plan to explore each aisle of the new jazzy Hyderabad airport and instead find ourselves contently sipping our respective coffees and munching cakes. In some freak manner our flights are at the same time and Vand I say our goodbyes promising to catch up very soon and be in touch and plan a hundred things till my flight guy comes forward to ask me if i really intend to board the flight.

Ah sigh. All good things must end. But how lovely that we can carry them around in our heads like little storybooks and visit them again and smile!

Till the next time my dear R and V! :)