The power of the insignificant

A couple of weeks ago, someone bought a pair of sandals and specs for an obscene amount of money. Suffice to say that the money would have been enough to built schools in over a hundred villages. The reason why it was priced so high is even more baffling given that Gandhi the owner of the revered specs and sandals would have never bothered to pay so much for them. I bet he would have been much happier if 60 crore Indians followed at least one of his principles he fought so much for.
Why is it that people are so passionate about such insignificant things while the workings of great minds are confined to the realms of legends and never brought down to practical mortal levels? Why would the world value Shakespeare’s original manuscripts to millions while the most important thing, his writing, is available at every street corner bookshop? What’s important, the paper or the words?
Maybe, the Kohinoor diamond is worth the money. The piece itself has a value in terms of its rarity and beauty. But Gandhi’s slippers are placed on a pedestal way above all other slippers of the world because it was worn by Gandhi and not because it’s the most beautiful or durable slipper in the world. What is worth the money and time is Gandhi’s ideals, a commodity that’s getting so rare nowadays that soon nothing will be left to even auction even if a buyers wants to pay for it.

An History of Distortion

If there comes a time when I have to share the credit for by knowledge, however meger it is, Hollywood will take about 50% of it. From the best slang for the best curse words to some of the lesser known and less useful facts like white christmas. Yesterday, I saw the movie on Alexander. To be honest, it was a bit boring. A bit high on the dramatics, low on action and loads of bits and pieces that just happened. In fact I slept through most of it after 'taming of the horse' scene until Alexander's death. In between in my drowsy state, I heard Alexander frequently spouting romantic dialogs. I didn't think over it until later when it hit me that there wasn't a female in sight long enough on screen to justify all those dialogs.

Imagine my suprise when the greatest teacher of our times, wikipedia, revealed that Alexander was spouting those dialogs at Hephaistion, apparently the most significant love of his life who came next only to his kingdom. I rewinded all the records inside my head on Alexander and I remembered reading about his famous horse Bacupalus, general Ptolemy, and his wives but nothing on his childhood friend, second in command, right hand man and possible lover. A result of selective historical national amnesia I suppose.

Hepaistion had the misfortune of being born with the wrong gender for the post of Alexander's great love. If he had been a woman, he would now be sharing space with Juliets and Cleopatra's of history. Poor chap, although I doubt he would have known he would be ignored so much. He could have been just a close frined of Alexander but the possibility of something more to the relationship had effectively ensured that he disappear. Even Alexander wouldn't have expected glory to be such a selective mistress. After all he did do everything short of building the Taj Mahal to remember his freind. I bet he would have built it too if he had met Shajahan. Then again Shajahan would have told him the truth that Mumtaz being a woman was more likely to bask in the Taj and the consequent historical glory that came with it. To his credit, Alexander did try to make Hephaistion God though.

Why was Hephaistion not worthy of mention as much as a horse in our history books? Because he was a man who sullied the perfect christian heterosexual image Alexander should have had? If this could happen in the story of a legend who roamed the fringes of India, what have they done to that rich mixture of legends, myths and icons inside our boundries. How much is true about Ghazni, the Rajputs, the Mughals, the Chera's, Chozhas, Pandiyas and all the way up to Gandhi and Nehru? Is truth taking a beating in the iconization of our heroes? How much have we carefully errased from history? Are these great men made by us after we cook and extract our legends?

I still rememered the shock I felt when at the age of 19 I read somewhere that Gandhi used to ignore his wife and sleep with young girls just to prove his own chastity and strenght of will. Now I know that Gandhi was human and had his own faults but at 19 it was the shattering blow that brought down the greatest icon every Indian is feed from birth. I felt utterly stupid when I learnt about the emergency in my twenties and that too through 'Midnight's Children' when I have been told that Indira Gandhi was a great leader and prime minister who had the guts to take on Pakistan ignoring the US. Would it be detremental to have studied about the emergency in our history lessons? Why are the faults and the more humane episodes of our icons removed from history? Is truth valued only as long as it is safe and acceptible to the social norms?

India's First Estate

Last week like most Indians, I was anxiously watching the news as the drama in Mumbai evolved. And for the first time I watched as the first estate of India, the press rose to the occasion. And I must admit that when all the curtains fell on this horror show all that remained was a deep feeling of loss and a jumble of questions floating in my head. But once the tangles started loosening up, a few questions kept recurring in my head.


First thing was the recurring use of the word 'hostage'. With the way things were unfolding, it looked more like a siege that a hostage situation. I mean no one was holding anyone for ransom. It so happened that people were trapped inside and they tried their best not to get shot. But why was it termed as a hostage situation? I was surprised to see the usage of that term even in BBC. I could be wrong here, but I would like to know if I am.


Another thing was the way the media was drawing conclusions for its audience. Even before the men involved in the whole rescue operations had a say in it. Panels were organized and interpretations forced down our throat. I mean, who should conclude how India deals with Pakistan and when?


A point to ponder is how far can you go in the name of 'right to information'. Was it such a bad idea to shut down news channels in Mumbai to avoid the spread of rumors? And how much can you dramatics news. It was disgusting to watch reporters falling over each other to get a few words out of people who have starved for the past 48 hours. And why wasn't there a distinction between paying homage to our martyrs and making a spectacle of people in their private moments of grief.


Another thing was 'selective reporting'. While the events in Mumbai deserved to be reported why were the other parts of the nation totally blacked out? I don't mean to say they should have run their usual fare despite the events, but surely the cyclone in TN was news worthy enough to get a mention at the far lower corner of the screen. At least it’s more important than the change in venue of cricket matches. It would have helped so many people who were caught unawares in the airports and train stations of the state. Was it because 'Nisha' was not sensational enough?


Sage Yavanshi managed an interview with the rain Gods and this is what they had to say.

"Those bastards, they ruined our campaign on climatic change. However, acknowledging the fact that they are the experts in gaining publicity, we intend to hire Mr Azam Amir for our next campaign. I mean, it’s no mean task to turn your image from mass murderer to helper of the security forces with 24 hours."

Regrets?

Another spectacular year has gone by and here I am, the tumbled and tired but not yet worn out product of the past 365 days (and alos all the other 365s gone by before). I can't help wonder how much I have changed and yet how unchaged I have become in the past year. Some part of me had died and some have come into being while some have just remained defining me as always. While birthdays are just like any other day, they are a good time to turn back just for a wink and move on. When I did that, I couldn't help but wonder if I would have done anything different the last year. Unfortunately, yes, I would have prefered to have nade different choices but then I again, I don't regret the ones I made. Afterall, they all had their own bit in ensuring where I stand now.

A question of importance

Frankly, the wrong question to think about when trying to drown in a tub of chocolate icecream, but I guess no time is the wrong time to ponder the biggest questions of life. And mind you it doesnt happen often. Eating chocolate icecream as an art that demands complete and utter devotion.

But once in a while, the mind refuses to listen to the melting miracle of icecream and wanders into domains it has no business wandering in. But once I got the question, its the worst brain itch so far. I have no problem spreading the itch to others, so here we go.

"Are humans no better (or worse) than animals or is there something 'more' to us?"

and yes, I confess that I thought of it only because I was wondering if a dog or a horse would enjoy the chocolate icecream as much as I do or will they just slurp it up and trot off without even realizing the divine taste sliding down their throat. (Disclaimer: This is just an example, if you dont like chocoalte icecream its okay....)

But seriously, do we have a special ability to rise above the basics of life and aim for some greatness on our own disregarding the social good? Basic refer to eating, sleeping, procreation and ensuring the safety of the procreated offsprings, hording for winter etc etc...

Do we have the power or will to indulge in things that DO NOT in anyway aid in the above mentioned needs. I agree we read poetry, we paint, we sing (come on its not always a primal trick to attract a mate) and we vote. But are these the things that define us as humans?

I can't help but feel that there is something just beyond all this that defines who we are. And life seems to be like a pilgrimage to that unknown shrine. I just hope that I take the right turns to get there in one peice.

I am just an ordinary man

Its been hectic the past few months and at the end of it, I had to sit down and take stock of my life here and now. I mean, its all nice and haughty when the adrenalin flows and I move from one project to the other conquering them all, but finally when the battle pauses, comes the moment of truth when I have to sit back and decide if it was all worth it.

Work has been gratifying at a personal level and I havent ventured beyond that as of now.
But on a personal level, I had to rethink my ideas about marriage and that led to a massive failure. Yes, paying up thousands and registering in matrimonial sites does give you that confidence that you do have potential but that doesnt last long. I wouldnt regret it though, given that its the best sampling of 'ordinary humans' you can ever get.

Sex freaks to wimpering cowards to men who actually know what they want and are nice enough to say so are all there, and I bet I could have never had the chance to meet them all if not for these sites (yes, that also includes the category that I never ever want to meet again). But one thing thats common to them all is the last line they ever tell me, "I am just an ordinary man". (Sorry, I am gender biased here, but thats because, I happened to meet only men in these sites)

How I wish there is a ban on those words, it should be awarded the worst curse on humanity award. This is an amazing statement that can smother and kill every question that one can ask about life, moral and choice. In fact, its the atom bomb on human moral.

Every bribing, lying, stealing, cheating, backboneless, guilt ridden humble citizen of society wears this statement as a cloak, designed uniformly with the same prejudices, wrapped around himself to hide in a forest of such people. This is better than Harry Potters invisibility cloak because, most people have one. And if you dont own one, you are mercilessly poked and prodded on all sides, gapped at, and frowned upon like a monkey doing sea surfing. Not surprisingly though, the first response, I would get after you have read so far is most probably, "What bitterness?" "How pathetic?" or "Get a life!" Strange that if a rat says that cheese is better than garbage to to a bunch of rats living in the sewer, he will be viewed with pity. Bitterness, joy, disappointment are well worth their time, if I can escape the dreaded cloak.

That nasty little sentence is the absolution that removes any genuine guilt you might feel about the social wrongs you see and effectively pushes you back into the safe zone and comfort that comes with mass misconceptions. It effectively throws anyone who begs to differ out of the planet.

I know it is unfair to say that anyone who says these words are all worthy of the terms I have used above, but this blog is not about fairness, its just about my perception and until I find an 'ordinary human' who thinks for himself/herself and stands by his/her own decisions even if it is against the social norms, I will change my mind.

Cloning!

Yesterday, I happened to go to a restaurant with a friend. But strangely, I just had a dejavu kind feeling creeping on me. Even though I was sure that I have never been there before. I finished my meal and thought about it on my way home. White shirts, a huge paper fan as a prop, banners with writings in Chinese or some such language, laughing Buddhas, chopsuey noodles and sweet and sour vegetables. Now where have I seen them? Then it hit me, the answer was every Chinese restaurant. I giggled thinking to myself that unintentionally, Chinese restaurants were cloned all over the city. I started making a list and soon I was listing cloned cool drinks (why do all soft drink bottles look the same), cloned food, cloned toys, cloned vehicles, cloned super markets (forget the name board alone), cloned rubber bands, cloned books.....

Then I turned around and saw a girl wearing a salwar just like mine and I stopped laughing. I always try to avoid designs that everyone wears. Call it vanity but I hate to see someone else dressed just like me. In fact, I go hunting for unique designs to some very dingy corners of the city. While cloning of Chinese restaurants is a bit funny, cloning cloths I wear was not, at least from my snotty point of view. I told myself that next time, I am designing my own salwar, or at the least buy something from a shop not too well known.

I had sufficiently sobered up by then and was watching out of the window of the bus, when i passed by a school. Like a sudden whiplash when I least expected, I realized with horrifying clarity that we not only clone restaurants and salwar kameezes but also humans. I find the sight of two rows of neatly dressed children with exactly the same uniform and hair style very disturbing. Don't you?

Dead Poets Society

I happen to see two movies surprisingly similar in theme but worlds apart in the story and the style of narration. While one was about an elephant who wouldn’t stuck to his belief that the world has more to it than just what we see and the other was about a group of boys who try to break out of convention with the help of their English teacher. Yes, I am talking about Horton Hears a Who and Dead Poets Society.

Horton believes that he heard a sound from a speck proving to him that there is a small world inside that speck. From there on, he faces all the problems that someone who is right, yet in the minority come to face. But finally, he does save whoville, the world in the speck. If you want to explain to a ten year old that what you are told is not always right and what you see is not always the only thing, this movie is the best choice. Of course, those who prefer a much profound and soul stirring method to achieve these ends without having to watch elephants, kangaroos and vultures, there is Dead Poet’s society.

What an amazing movie!!! Its voice should be heard loud and clear against the collective din of conformity and tradition that spills out of every school, college and university. Above all, it’s a movie that has aimed to make us all rethink the way we look at life and the way we live. It defined why we do need poetry and all beauty in our lives and on a personal level explained why a I still feel like biting into a piece of watermelon on a hot day, when recollecting the few lines of poetry that I read long ago.

In the end, I couldn’t grudge Neil his choice of freedom as much as I couldn’t grudge Horton his moment of fame.

If you cant Marvel...

I watched the movie 'Iron Man' yesterday (those of you who are itching to ask me, "why the hell is a smart and intelligent woman watching a movie like Iron man?" Go away. This post is not for you. And I do have my dumb moments). The movie was a MARVELOUS one, just like all MARVEL ones. But unfortunately, I laughed instead of my usual open mouthed awestruck gapping exercise. So finally, I the great sage Yavanshi, has outgrown Marvel comics.

Once upon a time, we had a Panthom who stalked the jungles, protecting his teritory of Bangala, in a sexy mysterious suit. Panthom told a lot of ten-year-olds that protecting nature is heroic. Then there was Batman, who taught rich kids that incase they don't know what to do with all their money, they along with their butlers can spend it on saving cities like Gauthom from mad jokers with stupid ideas. Even superman, despite his obsession with his adopted country flag, had his moments as he went about saving bus full of kids. I even liked spidey until he started acting demented in his last movie. But I must admit, none of these ordinary super heores, nor the incredibles, electra, cat woman, the fantastics and the X-men combined can ever beat 'Iron Man'.

Yes, the Iron Man is the guy who teaches the perfect lession all children must know. That weapons are cool, but only if they kill people other than Americans, that bad guys are almost always people who suspiciously look like Muslims from somewhere like Afghanistan, that if there is by chance a bad guy from America, then he is definetly smarter than the muslim 'terrorists'. And that when the terrorist buggers who look like muslims kill their own folks the hero of America is the one who saves them.

And ofcourse, some of the minor lessons are 'bad physics works, unbearably sweaty metal suits are good to fly alongside bombers, always hire a secretary smarter than you and a friend dumber than you, popoye green drinks makes you strong (spinach is really good, right?)...."
Well, the rest you will learn as you watch the movie. With such lessons I think there should be statuaory warning that says "Children, listen when Iron Man says weapons are bad and then shut your mind while watching, so as to avoid mental damage due to prejudice."

On Being an Atheist

While I was reading Richard Dawkin's 'The God Delusion', I came across a horrifying story of a pastor who killed a doctor who performed abortions. The pastor after that happily walked to the electric chair thinking that heaven awaited him. (Someone told me St. Peter had strict rules against murder) While he did it because he had a mountain load of hate that would have stank all the way to the Arctic, the reason for the hate was the most scary one I have heard. He did it because he thought it was un-christian. (Eh, when did Christ talk about abortion?)
Coming from a country that follows a thousand Gods, I have seen a number of mob murders done in the name of religion. But whats chillingly different in the case of the pastor is that he was an individual who was uncannily calm and rational (unlike people in a mob) when he did it. I personally cannot relate to this kind of hate. In my environment, religion does not figure in the scheme of things. Even when religion becomes a topic of discussion it's more like talking about the weather.
"I am christian, I pray to God when I have trouble, I am sure he will listen and help. What about you?"
"Oh, I don't believe in God, I am an atheist."
"Oh, okay. One of the Darwin types eh?"

"I went to the temple today."
"oh, the last time I went to a temple was seven years ago."
"oh, maybe you can come along next time when I go. It's fun."
"Yeah, sure."

"Dad, I don't believe in God"
"Don't say that"
"why?"
"Hum, you wont get a groom"

All these days, I was thinking that people don't like me being an atheist. Now I realize the true extent to which 'don't like' can mean. Now I know that folks back home are just being benignly surprised by my response. For that matter, people here frown on the so called immoral behaviour's that you may exhibit, but that's all they do. A woman who goes for an abortion, a man or a woman who is a homosexual, an atheist; all warrant a frown and at the max, gossip. But that is all. If you can forget to hear the disapproving murmurs in the background, you are guaranteed a pretty much normal life.
I just hope things remain that way here forever. But then again, the wheels of change turn slowly in India.

Poetry and Pumpkins

Finding Love

Why is it so hard to find?

why is it I never stop to mind?

The sun is down and the wind is cold

When the ocean sings, I still am looking
Why is it I never give up?

Why is it so hard to make up?

Even when the sands run through

My hands clutch at hope though
Why is it the price so high?

why is the bargain so bad?

Coz what I found was a pumpkin

That just won't spell any magic

Hehehe! this is what happens when you try poetry after 15 years :-)

Dragons, Spirits and Pricesses

Last Sunday, finally, I was able to watch Princess Mononoke. And what a treat it turned out to be. Some people can imagine magic, while some can see it. There are only a few masters who can make it and Miyazaki is the wisest wizard of the lot. While enough has been said about his hard hitting environmental messages, I am drawn to the characterisation in the movie. In Princess Mononoke or Spirited Away for that matter characters take a suprisingly human form; neither overtly good nor completely bad. No character is judged upon, just made out in beautiful colours and forms set on a landscape that never once reminds you that its all make-believe.

Thanks to such movies, we get to fly with the dragons, walk the extinct jungles and meet brave prince and princesses who despite their courage, touch us by their humanity.