The fleeting fragrance of rose essence, the sweet sounding shehnai and the pandit rushing through his crude sanskrit. Amidst all the chaos, one could make out that this was the big day. Hoards of relatives and friends were gathered around the podium, the final ceremony had just reached its climax.
It was as if the music suddenly stopped, and time froze. As she saw her son soak in the limelight, she was travelling back to another era long forgotten. She was standing on that podium herself, and the curtain that separated her from a new life was just about to drop. On the other side a new life beckoned, full of hope and fledgling dreams. Her parents stood by her side, looking on happy and content as she took her first steps into a new family. She was scared, but even more scared to admit it.
She was in the middle of a storm of images, crashing into her and splitting her very being. She remembered waking up in the hospital, surrounded by her family, all eager to tell her that it was a boy. She sensed the same fear again, remembered searching for him amongst all those people and the relief at seeing him smile back gently at her, talking to everyone but as if addressing only her.
Learning to crawl, the garbled first words, learning to walk, run, laugh, falling of the bike, learning to dream, to think...they had been through everything together. The school, the games, the injuries while playing, the exams they hated together, the dinners they waited for, the vacations, the fights, the love...one full lifetime of memories which her mind was showing her in a mere instant. She did not even realize when her eyes became moist...
He called out to her suddenly..."Aai, ithe ye, kuthe door ubhi aahes!" and the sepia tinted haze receded yet again. She was back in reality, in the present, in the middle of the ceremony and all those people all dressed up and waiting in anticipation. He wanted her by his side, she moved ahead,wiping her tears.The curtain was about to drop once again...
(Antarpaat: marathi, noun, "Ceremonial curtain")
Friday, October 30, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
India after Gandhi (and me after Guha...)
I must begin with a sweeping claim. It would be a pity for someone who considers himself invested in the idea of India to not have read the book "India after Gandhi ", compiled by Ramachandra Guha.
As Guha begins by saying, it is indeed unfortunate that the date of 15th August 1947 has been etched in our minds, to remain forever as the indelible line which separates modern India from historical India. We naively refer to the pre-independence era as the history of the nation, and comfortably forget the 60 years since then, both academically and in day-to-day inspections of modern India.
Based of this premise, he takes us on this most spectacular tour of modern day India, carefully explaining and deconstructing the events which have shaped our political, economic and social history. The book's victory is in the fact that Guha does not take sides, and is a mere spectator as history is passing by. He is well aware that the job of a historian who is chronicling(?) contemporary history is that much tougher because he has experienced first hand (and probably even been affected in some cases..) the fallout of various defining events / decisions in his nation's history. Yet he must take an objective view keeping in mind that it isn't his job to take sides and/or pass judgements, for that falls into the areas of sociology or political science.
Of course, this does not mean that he in on a fact finding or fact collecting mission. One of the biggest plus points of the book is that it is such an easy read! Even though the author makes no attempt to "spice up" proceedings, the very topic is brimming with color and entertainment. In the section devoted to Hindi cinema, I could not help but wonder how hindi cinema's pan-indian popularity could probably be attributed to its inspirations coming from our own contemporary history. The overt melodrama, the color, the music, the themes are so deeply influenced by the reality that is our nation. (Disclaimer: I am in no way saying that the depiction is accurate, or that the movies themselves are great works of art, lest I am crucified in the comments :-) )
My favorite section of the book though is the section titled "Picking up the pieces", where Guha devotes almost a third of the book to Nehru's herculean efforts to pull the country out of its worst times, the long term ramifications of his decisions, and his everlasting political and social legacy. It is a well known fact that Guha is a "congressi babu" (forgive the pejorative connotation), but he does a creditable job of being dispassionate in his deconstruction of Nehruvian India. We come from a generation which grew up venerating leaders like Nehru, our only resource being the stories about the post-partition era from our grand parents and the "India shining" history text books. I believe that both these sources generously push the boundaries of fact into the realm of fiction and myth. For me, Nehru had always been an enigma of sorts, I never quite understood the magnitude of his contributions, and Guha changed that withing a couple hundred pages. Others may leave this book with very differing views of Nehru and the India he left us, and therein lies Guha's greatest victory.
This same section also delivers acute insight into our political, judicial and administrative beginnings. One is left wondering about what India we would live in today had we chosen to emulate the Anglo-Saxon liberalism model of governance, and paved the way for a liberal "Hindu" nation. Also, it is hard not to feel moral ambivalent about the Kashmir issue after the historical perspective of the troubled state is laid out in front of you.
Like any other great book, there are areas which probably deserved more ink. I think the book does not do justice to the pogroms of Delhi (post Indira Gandhi's murder) and Godhra. While chapters are dedicated to similar incidents of rioting in Calcutta post-partition, we dont get a good feel for the political and social fallout of these incidents as they are almost brushed under the carpet in a few pages. Similarly, while the khalistan movement and Indira Gandhi's murder is given its due, the LTTE operation of 1987 and Rajiv Gandhi's subsequent murder are almost forgotten about.
The other (smaller) issue I found irksome was the loss of chronological integrity in the last part while covering the 90s and 2000s. I believe this was done to give the reader a birds eye view of how certain events have influenced these decades. However, it becomes very tough to piece together these disparate stories running in parallel, while simultaneously trying to assimilate / deconstruct the psyche of the common man in that time frame. But this more a personal limitation than an intelligent critique of the book's structure.
All said and done, do pick this book sometime. It will leave you reeling with the sheer strength of what is India, with the magnitude of our accomplishments in the last half of the century and with the arduous challenges we face hereon.
This is one story definitely worth reading...
It must be mentioned here that I look down upon my opinions of literature with some degree of skepticism. I am mildly amused that I wish to write about this tome I just got done reading, a book from which I borrowed the title of this post (w/o the parenthesis of course...).
As Guha begins by saying, it is indeed unfortunate that the date of 15th August 1947 has been etched in our minds, to remain forever as the indelible line which separates modern India from historical India. We naively refer to the pre-independence era as the history of the nation, and comfortably forget the 60 years since then, both academically and in day-to-day inspections of modern India.
Of course, this does not mean that he in on a fact finding or fact collecting mission. One of the biggest plus points of the book is that it is such an easy read! Even though the author makes no attempt to "spice up" proceedings, the very topic is brimming with color and entertainment. In the section devoted to Hindi cinema, I could not help but wonder how hindi cinema's pan-indian popularity could probably be attributed to its inspirations coming from our own contemporary history. The overt melodrama, the color, the music, the themes are so deeply influenced by the reality that is our nation. (Disclaimer: I am in no way saying that the depiction is accurate, or that the movies themselves are great works of art, lest I am crucified in the comments :-) )
My favorite section of the book though is the section titled "Picking up the pieces", where Guha devotes almost a third of the book to Nehru's herculean efforts to pull the country out of its worst times, the long term ramifications of his decisions, and his everlasting political and social legacy. It is a well known fact that Guha is a "congressi babu" (forgive the pejorative connotation), but he does a creditable job of being dispassionate in his deconstruction of Nehruvian India. We come from a generation which grew up venerating leaders like Nehru, our only resource being the stories about the post-partition era from our grand parents and the "India shining" history text books. I believe that both these sources generously push the boundaries of fact into the realm of fiction and myth. For me, Nehru had always been an enigma of sorts, I never quite understood the magnitude of his contributions, and Guha changed that withing a couple hundred pages. Others may leave this book with very differing views of Nehru and the India he left us, and therein lies Guha's greatest victory.
This same section also delivers acute insight into our political, judicial and administrative beginnings. One is left wondering about what India we would live in today had we chosen to emulate the Anglo-Saxon liberalism model of governance, and paved the way for a liberal "Hindu" nation. Also, it is hard not to feel moral ambivalent about the Kashmir issue after the historical perspective of the troubled state is laid out in front of you.
Like any other great book, there are areas which probably deserved more ink. I think the book does not do justice to the pogroms of Delhi (post Indira Gandhi's murder) and Godhra. While chapters are dedicated to similar incidents of rioting in Calcutta post-partition, we dont get a good feel for the political and social fallout of these incidents as they are almost brushed under the carpet in a few pages. Similarly, while the khalistan movement and Indira Gandhi's murder is given its due, the LTTE operation of 1987 and Rajiv Gandhi's subsequent murder are almost forgotten about.
The other (smaller) issue I found irksome was the loss of chronological integrity in the last part while covering the 90s and 2000s. I believe this was done to give the reader a birds eye view of how certain events have influenced these decades. However, it becomes very tough to piece together these disparate stories running in parallel, while simultaneously trying to assimilate / deconstruct the psyche of the common man in that time frame. But this more a personal limitation than an intelligent critique of the book's structure.
All said and done, do pick this book sometime. It will leave you reeling with the sheer strength of what is India, with the magnitude of our accomplishments in the last half of the century and with the arduous challenges we face hereon.
This is one story definitely worth reading...
It must be mentioned here that I look down upon my opinions of literature with some degree of skepticism. I am mildly amused that I wish to write about this tome I just got done reading, a book from which I borrowed the title of this post (w/o the parenthesis of course...).
Sunday, May 10, 2009
They found themselves at an airport lounge all of a sudden. It had all transpired in a matter of hours. He pondered, "Wasn't it just yesterday that I sat in the cozy comforts of my home? And here I am now, not sure about where I am headed and what lies in store for me in this foreign land. Was this really my decision, something I wanted to do? " Its amazing how warped your mind can get after travelling around the globe.
She woke up just then with a start, pulling herself away from his shoulders. She thought " Wow! That was a nightmare...thank God. I dont have to rush home just yet, Mom is fine after all". She looked around and felt for his hand, to seek reassurance in his presence around her in those final fleeting moments.
He felt her touch and gently moved his hand away. The guy sitting next to him, whom he hardly knew, but was travelling with, would notice this gesture he thought. How ill-formed our thoughts are in those adolescent years. We draw ourselves away from the gentle expressions of a muted love. So worried are we of the opinions people around us are forming, that we forget to live out the moment with a loved one.
"United flight U-500 is now boarding at gate G17. We would like to invite all passengers travelling in zone 1 to board at this time". This was it. As he started to get up to move towards the gate, his mind was still reeling. Numerous memories, of happy and carefree times spent together were coming gushing back. She was still holding his hand, as if almost begging him not to leave her alone in this big bad country all alone. He had never felt so vulnerable, a word from her and he could have kissed his future goodbye.
She was barely holding her tears back. "I'll have some coffee from the Mcdees" (as Mcdonalds was commonly referred to where they were from), "I dont want to be caught napping when they announce my flight", she said. Starbucks was quite an alien concept till then. He knew this was just small talk, her way of turning attention away from that moment, of not allowing him to look into her eyes and feel her vulnerability. She has always liked to think of herself as this ultra-resilient, emotionally tough person, but it was so easy for him to see through this veneer at a girl who was probably as scared as he was right then.
She woke up just then with a start, pulling herself away from his shoulders. She thought " Wow! That was a nightmare...thank God. I dont have to rush home just yet, Mom is fine after all". She looked around and felt for his hand, to seek reassurance in his presence around her in those final fleeting moments.
He felt her touch and gently moved his hand away. The guy sitting next to him, whom he hardly knew, but was travelling with, would notice this gesture he thought. How ill-formed our thoughts are in those adolescent years. We draw ourselves away from the gentle expressions of a muted love. So worried are we of the opinions people around us are forming, that we forget to live out the moment with a loved one.
"United flight U-500 is now boarding at gate G17. We would like to invite all passengers travelling in zone 1 to board at this time". This was it. As he started to get up to move towards the gate, his mind was still reeling. Numerous memories, of happy and carefree times spent together were coming gushing back. She was still holding his hand, as if almost begging him not to leave her alone in this big bad country all alone. He had never felt so vulnerable, a word from her and he could have kissed his future goodbye.
She was barely holding her tears back. "I'll have some coffee from the Mcdees" (as Mcdonalds was commonly referred to where they were from), "I dont want to be caught napping when they announce my flight", she said. Starbucks was quite an alien concept till then. He knew this was just small talk, her way of turning attention away from that moment, of not allowing him to look into her eyes and feel her vulnerability. She has always liked to think of herself as this ultra-resilient, emotionally tough person, but it was so easy for him to see through this veneer at a girl who was probably as scared as he was right then.
As he prepared to turn away and walk towards the shoot, there was one moment when their gaze lingered on. His "friend" was waiting for him near the shoot, getting impatient with every pasing moment. He couldn't stop himself this time. Running back to where she was standing, he hugged her tight. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming, but those were different times, weren't they?
He mumbled his last few words, not even realizing what he was saying and ran towards the shoot, towards his new life.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Elegy for the favorite player.
Here is something I really wanted to pen down ages back and never did. Youtube will never cease to amaze me. Just when you think the evening isnt going anywhere, the "god of the off-side" is right there in your living room keeping you company. A hot cup of tea increases the viewing experience manyfolds too. :)
Anyway, do read on...
Its your last day today, and all those memories of the great times you gave us are coming back to me. They will talk about you for a while, as they always do. Tabloids will flash the good, the bad and the super ugly about you with equal enthusiam. Every cricketer / socialite will try to prove that he is your last living friend and how he has "candid" experiences about you to share.
The public makes a cricketer they say, he isnt bigger than the sport or the people who watch. And then there are those, who rise above the game and dont remain mere sprortsmen in the public's eyes. They capture the viewer's imagination, strive to make his every dream a reality and give him countless fond memories to cherish and recount for ever and ever.
Yet only few will remember what you have accomplished. Only those who were truly scarred by the "tendulkar gone india gone" era can understand your true contributions. Which Indian cricket fan can forget the Natwest trophy and your barbaric celebrations on the lord's balcony, or your 3 hundreds on debut, or the way you amalgamized a team in total disarray into a band of fighters. Yes there were the Nagmas and the Chappels, but that is what sets you apart right? You never aspired to be the good boy of Indian cricket.
You are about to stare down the valley of oblivion. I know that the IPL still remains, but we both know that your best years are past you. It will be hard to digest that the good you did is soon forgotten while the greys keep coming up every now and then. Do keep in mind though that there is a bunch of us who will judge every left hander against the tough mark of your cover drive, square cut and the distance of the sixes hit against South African off-spiners.
You leave us a long list of great memories, I do hope you write a book someday, it will definitely find atleast one buyer.
Love,
"yet another" ardent Indian cricket fan.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Selectively social..
I realized today how much I hate writing about my day to day existence these days. This blog was started as a tool to chronicle events in my life, good or bad, so I could one day look back upon with some degree of nostalgia. Strangely, these days, I don't seem to find myself motivated enough to write about all that is going on here in Austin.
I wonder if the reason is that my life isn't as colourful as it used to be once. I guess that's true but surely that cannot be the only reason can it? I hope this is not the case since there is definitely more to my life here than I give myself credit for...
Anyway, this post was about Christmas...its the 2nd time that I am in the US during this time of the year and the festive season is definitely upon us big time. This means loads of leave from the drudgery of work, lots of time to watch as many movies as I want to and add to my ever increasing girth (around the waist of course...:D). Its strange how easily december has passed. I thought it would be really boring what with Amru and gang not here for company. Strangely, I think this time has helped Mone and me get in touch with the essence of out existence in the US...absolute and unabashed laziness...! ah...what a great time it has been....in the 24 hours that have passed I have gone from watching 5 hindi movies and switching between television and cricinfo sessions...of course the Indians getting their asses kicked has helped increase the motivation to watch more mediocre cinema..but its been fun nonetheless..
A good friend once told me that I try too hard to emulate the good in people. I find role models very easily (given that the imperfections in me are so glaring..!!) and try (albeit unsuccessfully) to emulate their personality traits that appeal to me. Now while there are some real advantages to doing this, at most times I land up just fooling myself into believing that I can be someone I am not (and at times don't want to be either)....After ages, this time alone has helped me rediscover some of that passion that I once had...the real urge to be the best and to do whatever it is I want to really well...strangely, the lack of people has been helpful in ways I never thought possible.."Selectively social" I guess is what I have become...I like interacting at times, but I am mostly just comfortable being in the company of a 2...at most 3 people I know.
I have learnt to disassociate myself and am surprisingly comfortable doing it. Maybe that's what is growing up after all...or maybe its just me thinking wayy too much about inconsequential things...in anycase, I am sorry to bore you with all this..Hopefully I havent killed all your enthusiasm to ever stop by again...:D
I wonder if the reason is that my life isn't as colourful as it used to be once. I guess that's true but surely that cannot be the only reason can it? I hope this is not the case since there is definitely more to my life here than I give myself credit for...
Anyway, this post was about Christmas...its the 2nd time that I am in the US during this time of the year and the festive season is definitely upon us big time. This means loads of leave from the drudgery of work, lots of time to watch as many movies as I want to and add to my ever increasing girth (around the waist of course...:D). Its strange how easily december has passed. I thought it would be really boring what with Amru and gang not here for company. Strangely, I think this time has helped Mone and me get in touch with the essence of out existence in the US...absolute and unabashed laziness...! ah...what a great time it has been....in the 24 hours that have passed I have gone from watching 5 hindi movies and switching between television and cricinfo sessions...of course the Indians getting their asses kicked has helped increase the motivation to watch more mediocre cinema..but its been fun nonetheless..
A good friend once told me that I try too hard to emulate the good in people. I find role models very easily (given that the imperfections in me are so glaring..!!) and try (albeit unsuccessfully) to emulate their personality traits that appeal to me. Now while there are some real advantages to doing this, at most times I land up just fooling myself into believing that I can be someone I am not (and at times don't want to be either)....After ages, this time alone has helped me rediscover some of that passion that I once had...the real urge to be the best and to do whatever it is I want to really well...strangely, the lack of people has been helpful in ways I never thought possible.."Selectively social" I guess is what I have become...I like interacting at times, but I am mostly just comfortable being in the company of a 2...at most 3 people I know.
I have learnt to disassociate myself and am surprisingly comfortable doing it. Maybe that's what is growing up after all...or maybe its just me thinking wayy too much about inconsequential things...in anycase, I am sorry to bore you with all this..Hopefully I havent killed all your enthusiasm to ever stop by again...:D
Sunday, October 21, 2007
The summer that was.
Its been a really long time...probably the longest it has been since I have posted. I dont quite remember being sucked into the writer's block...I have always thought of this blog as an extension of that fraction of me which I consider "displayable", those thoughts which a few close ones may relate to, or may add to every once in a while. At the same time, I also had this romantic (ablbeit kiddish) instinct that one day a long time later, I can look back at this space which will hopefully have been built up into 6 seasons of the wonder years...:D
I digress as always from what I started out to write...
Its been a weird summer, one where all of us (meaning the few friends whose lives I think I have a fair idea about...an exponentially decreasing number at that) went through a plethora of emotions. It began with a bang, as all well told stories do. We graduated and had a great time. But a lot has been said about those days and a lot will be repeated in the months to come.
There are so many things to say about the past 4 months of my life after graduation week and its amazing how none of them can be put on paper coz they really are not for public consumption . I guess to sum it up, what I am saying is that we all wish bong and gorhe did not leave, and that Bharath would be around playing papa bear to this group. The soul of this city was the people, and without them what remains is just another american town with nothing much to offer.
I am thinking how amazingly boring this post is . I really dont know what to write anymore. I do know what I am thinking though. I wish no one else has to leave. We need people here, we want those days back.
I digress as always from what I started out to write...
Its been a weird summer, one where all of us (meaning the few friends whose lives I think I have a fair idea about...an exponentially decreasing number at that) went through a plethora of emotions. It began with a bang, as all well told stories do. We graduated and had a great time. But a lot has been said about those days and a lot will be repeated in the months to come.
There are so many things to say about the past 4 months of my life after graduation week and its amazing how none of them can be put on paper coz they really are not for public consumption . I guess to sum it up, what I am saying is that we all wish bong and gorhe did not leave, and that Bharath would be around playing papa bear to this group. The soul of this city was the people, and without them what remains is just another american town with nothing much to offer.
I am thinking how amazingly boring this post is . I really dont know what to write anymore. I do know what I am thinking though. I wish no one else has to leave. We need people here, we want those days back.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Mediocrity
For once theres no solace in the acceptance of moediocrity...the will to stand out still lives, even after numerous attempts at its life.... what else would explain this pain of failure. Not all hope is lost after all...
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