dusting the years away…

When you clean to set up a new house, old memories invariably come forth.
In the packed boxes that you had tied up and forgotten, in the long forgotten clothes that someone mended for you years ago, in the pieces of paper scribbled with odd notes that you never knew existed and in the passport photos that you didn’t think were still around.
Cleaning is a difficult job. In more ways than one.

Amchi Dilli

Have you driven in Delhi of late? In case you haven’t you really are missing out on something! Things have undergone a dramatic transformation as I have been discovering. All for the good of course – it’s saadi dilli after all.

The rule of the game has now changed to “Surprise Thy Fellow Drivers”. Keep them guessing. Let them wonder what your next move might be. Whether you would cut across them just when they least expect or whether you would stop right in the middle of that honking and snarling traffic for no apparent reason. Take a surprise turn to the right from the left most lane and catch them unawares. And if you happen to be on a two-wheeler you of course have a much larger canvas to yourself – so much more is possible to you after all! Amaze them with your maneuverability as you breezily shoot into that little 8 inch gap between the bus and the car. Leave them frustrated in their fancy four wheel drives as you zoom away through those tiny corners while they struggle to surmount the web of vehicles around them.

Leave your fears behind when you step out – we have no place for the cowardly! Patience is for the meek. Here on our roads is the true expression of the paradigm of equality – we treat the buses with the same irreverence as we treat the cycles – they have equal standing in the eyes of our traffic. We have immense respect for time – we like to demonstrate it with our chronic rush. We are the true heroes – we make our own rules on our roads and we make everyone live by them.

We Delhi-ites call it ‘living-on-the-edge’. We enjoy the challenge. We thrive on the excitement. We love our roads!

Observation

They say always think positively. Therefore I won’t say that a sibling is the chief irritant and principal cause of grief in one’s life. I will instead conclude that siblings are put on earth to test your patience and perseverance at survival and thereby make you a better person.

Oh, also as an aside, my sister has come back from hostel for the winter break last evening. Obviously that has nothing to do with my profound observations above.

Also...just read this Calvin & Hobbes...was wondering how much we really paid for her!! ;-) Enjoy!

Police and Park Benches

The incident in Meerut that happened on the afternoon of 20th Dec has now snowballed into something much larger than what the handful of police officers involved could ever have dreamed. The media has picked it up as a story that would be close to the hearts of over half of the country’s population – the youth. And as trivial as the episode may seem amongst matters of the country, it is representative of India’s underlying moral fiber even after the last two decades of so called evolution and development of our economy and thereby society.

The facts are simple – one winter afternoon the Meerut police decided to ‘raid’ Gandhi Park, which is the town’s biggest public park, and indiscriminately rounded up young couples sitting together. They then ruthlessly slapped around the boys and girls to allegedly drive home the point that it was improper for them to be sitting with each other in the park. To avoid the risk of being grossly misunderstood, I will clarify at the very onset that I do not consider myself qualified in any way to pronounce judgment on whether or not it is morally correct for young couples to hang out together on park benches. But I also don’t consider anyone else to be qualified to do it either. And that includes the state’s law enforcement agencies.

I take great pride in being an Indian. And I am not at all of the view that the Indian culture has become dusty and aged and needs radical change. My problem is with the fact that what we call our ‘Indian culture’ is grossly misinterpreted and misused to justify or perform many acts which have nothing whatsoever to do with the country’s culture in the first place. Whether or not I choose to sit and chat with a male friend in a public place does not and never will define my country’s culture!

I don’t have a problem if my father tells me not to go out with boys my age – that’s a family situation, rooted in familial values, to be solved by the family within the family. But I do have a problem when institutions of the state get into my house and start meddling into my business when they have no right or entitlement to do so. I have no idea what those young girls and boys were doing that afternoon in the park with each other. And honestly – I don’t care. But the images shown on TV of policewomen thrashing them around disturb me deeply and make me question not the moral maxims of Indian society but the competence of the Indian lawmakers.

For the last 15 years we have stood atop every rooftop and yelled to the world that India is on a whirlwind path to development, growth and progress. But a sizeable GDP growth rate, swelling foreign investments or increased share in the world market are not the sole indicators of advancement. What occurred in Meerut is a harsh reminder of how much needs to be altered before we can stake claim to that title of ‘development’.

Our Gods of Flesh

The week gone past was a big week in more ways than one. The BPO industry was shaken by the question of safety and security of employees, Shiv Sena saw the end of an era and the Indian squad walked all over the Lankans even as Ganguly was disgracefully ousted. However the news item that seemed to have taken center stage amongst all this was the return of Amitabh Bachchan from hospital after a grueling 20 day battle with illness.

In the past 20 days I have heard it said more than often that the Indian media has gone berserk with the coverage of AB’s illness. And in the midst of wondering if that indeed was the case, I would often find myself also wondering if there was any change in Mr. Bachchan’s condition. None of us who hold ourselves above such mass-hysteria generating matters would admit it, even to ourselves, but I am certain most of us did have that fleeting moment of concern and apprehension when we heard about Mr. Bachchan’s hospitalization. Probably not because we looked at him as our hero or god as was spouted by the multitude of TV channels. No - we deem ourselves to have been educated out of such tripe. But the passing anxiety was simply because he is who he is – Amitabh Bachchan.

By the time I was old enough to differentiate between the hero and the villain in cinema, Mr. Bachchan was well past his first innings in Bollywood. So I did not grow up idolizing him. Intermittently I watched some old movies of his and I liked them. But I never got the opportunity to experience the rage that he was in the 70’s and 80’s. And when he made his comeback in the new millennium and I witnessed the emotions he managed to generate in the Indian public, I was amazed yet delighted. For at the end of the day he is an entertainer – and he is good at his work. Well deserved success is a heady feeling not just for the receiver but also for those able to appreciate him. He redefined the Indian hero. And the proverbial man on the street latched on to him as his own returning champion.

Amitabh Bachchan is human. He has had his failings – professionally and personally. He has dealt with them as any human would do. He has succeeded at times, and at other times he didn’t quite manage to. And yet he is no longer just an actor in India. He is now an institution. He is an icon of heroism and courage to the millions of people who fight their own little battles every single day of their lives. He brings them hope. He gives them the strength to dream. He lets them see in him what is possible. So understandably it was difficult for so many people to see their hero suddenly collapse and teeter at the edge of life. For they are human too.

These icons of our age, or of any age for that matter, are social requisites in more ways than one. They are crafted and made by us for ourselves. We create them because we need them. Because even the most staunchly religious amongst us need at times a god of flesh and blood to look up to and say to ourselves – as long as he is there, tomorrow might be a better day. And that’s the reason Amitabh Bachchan is not only an entertainer – he is an era. And we have a right to know when he is suffering. So that we can pray to keep our faiths intact.

Of Trivial Matters..

A friend had recently mentioned in passing conversation that in the big scheme of life, little things are not more than incidental.

It’s true I suppose. There were things that I bothered about to no end, things that were my primary preoccupation at various points of time, things that made me cringe with angst and things that gave me many sleepless nights. And they ceased to be a matter of concern very shortly afterwards. I could look back at them and laugh at my own silliness.

But even though I accept that, I also realize that it is the immediate outcomes that are of significance in the present time. They make us happy or unhappy, agitated or tranquil, content or perturbed. Reflecting back might make us scoff at the pointlessness of the energy we wasted fretting about them. But it does not take us back to that moment and it does not undo our emotions of the moments gone past.

And therefore as profound as the thought might be – of letting the small things be – I find it extremely tough to live by it. Impatience still gets the better of me, ambition still makes me want more than I get and my dreams still make it hard for me to accept failure. The little things might not affect the big picture, but they do affect the picture’s little pieces. And isn’t it those pieces that make up existence?

Meeting Mr. Khan

Yesterday I loved Manhattan more than usual. Yesterday I saw Shah Rukh Khan.

Some things would make you happy no matter what your age – they would bring the same joy if you were 10 years younger or 10 years older. And when you actually do cross paths with one of them – well – you feel exultant. And so did I.

I rushed from office when I heard he was shooting near my house by the Hudson. They were wrapping up and I saw him walk down and get into his car. And I saw him from a distance of less than a foot. I waved to him and he waved back. I felt joyful like a little kid. Not because I am a crazed fan. I do think he is great but I am not one of those star crazy people who live in the hopes of catching a glimpse of their favourite celebrity walking down the road.

But some things are symbolic. Shah Rukh Khan is similar – he embodies Hindi cinema for me – he became a star when I was growing up, he came out of nowhere and conquered the country, he proved that dreams come true and successes are not made in heaven but created by people, he established his own rules and had people playing by them. He brought hope to millions. And icons of your youth remain with you forever as the symbol of things that you went through as you were growing up. For this reason, seeing Shah Rukh Khan even today, when I am much older and, I like to believe, wiser, is still a big deal.

Besides, it is always wonderful to come across small things that make you happy unconditionally. All troubles were forgotten for those few moments, my day seemed brighter and the world seemed a more beautiful place. Which is always good.

Ahhhh….Chocolate!

And then one day god decided to create chocolate. He really must have been happy with mankind!

Let me tell you something very fundamental to my being – in case you haven’t guessed it already (and you have to be kinda slow not to have!) – I am extremely fond of chocolates. And that’s putting it rather mildly. I can survive on chocolates. Gloom or stress, exhaustion or frustration – chocolate therapy works best on me.

So yesterday I thought I would do something perfect on a prefect fall day. Which turned out to be driving down some 160 miles south of NYC to a little town in the heart of Pennsylvania that goes by the name of ‘Hershey’. Yes yes you got it right – it’s home to the Hershey chocolate company, and therefore rightly enjoys the title of the ‘chocolate-land’ of U. S. of A.

The sun-kissed trees with their beautiful orange and red leaves that hail the descent of fall provided the perfect scenery on our way to the quaint little town that is plush with rolling fields for the cows to graze (remember chocolate needs milk?!) and where everything evoked the sense of being enfolded in chocolates. The roads had cute little names like ‘Cocoa Avenue’ and ‘Dairy Street’ and the street lights over little bridges were in the shape of chocolate blobs. It was perfect.

The Hershey Company offered a tour called (any guesses?) – Chocolate tour – that took you through the entire process of the creation of chocolate right from the point of harvest of cocoa beans to where the chocolates are wrapped and packaged and sent across the world. Watching the rich liquid chocolate being swirled and twisted, then flow through and drop lusciously from one container to another, all the while being enveloped by that luxurious aroma of chocolates, was close to an other-worldly experience for a chocolate-lover like me. When I got out of the place I felt like I had been to heaven and back. Truly.

It’s good to have something in the world that makes you happy with no exceptions – I don’t have to be in the right mood, or say the right things, or do the right stuff to enjoy a bit of chocolate. Eating it is complete in itself. So go on...indulge... :-)

Cometh Friday...

If I was asked about what is the one thing that is even more dreadful than a Monday morning – my answer would undoubtedly be – a Friday morning. Needless to say, I am not a huge fan of mornings in general. But there is something particularly vile about them on Fridays. Or maybe it’s just me.

I always awaken on a Friday overcome with joy at the prospect of the weekend being right around the corner. And then as I drag myself out of bed it slowly dawns upon me that there is still a day to go – that I still have to pay heed to the alarm clock by my bed, I still need to run to catch the ferry and I still need to go through the motions of work before I can finally be happy. And the prospect of liberation so close at hand makes it all that much worse! I feel cheated to say the least.

And today was no different. Add to that the fact that New York continues to be battered by the rains that aren’t-quite-rains and therefore end up being a lot more irksome than a downpour. I mean I have spent a good part (ok 2 years!!) of my life in Kolkata and one has to spend a summer there to know what God meant to create when he thought of ‘Rain’! The good part is – a rainy Friday morning can only get better - so tomorrow shall be my day of joy and merriment.

Goodnight world…dream away!

Of Rains and Writing

It's raining in New York. Which translated means - I got drenched, broke an umbrella and almost got blown away by the wind. So I thought to myself, why don't I take a break, have a cup of tea and create a blog for myself. And here I am.

The city is soaked. I was just looking out of the office window and through the haze of clouds and fog I could just about make out the shapes of some other buildings. They seemed to me to be emerging out of a mist with this very fairy-tale, mystical quality about them. And I could sit back for a moment and imagine that on the inside they weren’t really buzzing with humming computers, coffee machines, haste and office gossip. That they actually had knights and kings, elves and jesters, making magic and creating fables. In moments like these I wonder what it is about those ages gone past that makes them so fascinating – if we really lost the merriment when we found the machines, if modern-day Neo could ever measure up to yesterday’s Gandalf?

With that thought in mind I am jolted back to reality – because you see, I still am in office and I still have a lot more to do than smelling fresh hay!