The longest blog I’ve written.
9th of July, 2007 was a landmark day in my life. I had my breakfast at Kolkata, lunch in Delhi and dinner @ Mumbai. Never ever felt as Musafirous in my life…
… until, yesterday.
Was to travel by the Kingfisher morning flight to Mumbai and from there to Bhuj. Missed the flight. A gut feeling told me that Bhagwan Murphy had decided to place his hand on my head for the day.
Took the ticket for the same route on Jet. The flight to Mumbai was delayed, and we landed at 12.35 PM in Mumbai. My transit flight (the last one to Bhuj) was to take off at 12.40 PM. But, with Bhagwan Murphy by my side, how could I take the flight. Along with about 6-7 others, I got stranded in Mumbai.
Jet offered us a 7 PM flight to Rajkot and offered to drop us at Bhuj on a car ( 4-5 hours). Now, the place I needed to get to is about 150 KMs from Bhuj. With no other option, I had to take the option they gave me.
Never ever have I felt like a bigger piece of sh**.
Guess, my boss could sense that. On the phone, amongst other things, he said, “it must be more difficult for you coz you are alone on this”. Never in my life had I seen empathy better at display. I cannot describe in words how light I felt after hearing this. If ever I grow big enough to write an autobiography, this bit would be written in bold capitals.
A couple of days back, I’d met some good friends from my college at IHC. While talking to them, I remember quoting to them an oft-quoted philosophy- “Worry about, and think of changing things that are in your control”. Some very senior mentors in my life have quoted this to me and also to distinguish between things in my control and things that are not.
I smiled inside my mind. This conversation with the friends and the one with my boss ensured that any worry that remained inside me was off loaded. But I had to reach my destination before tomorrow morning.
In the time I had, before boarding the Rajkot flight, caught up with some special friends in Mumbai.
Reached Rajkot half-an-hour late. Took the car… an Innova… good car…great Rafi-Mukesh-Kishore-Hemant Kumar songs playing… lashing rains… cold winds…. Moonlit night… Exotic deserted roads… driving by the river….
But for the fact that there was no girl alongside, this would have been the most romantic evening of my life.
And then Bhagwan Murphy smiled again. The headlights of the car went off. Still drove on. Missed hitting a truck, driving into a ditch and colliding against a bus- all by a whisker. While contemplating on whether to continue driving or not, the ultimate comico-tragedy happened. One of the tyres burst.
And then, more adventure… try helping out somebody trying to change a tyre in the midst of a heavy downpour… you’ll know what I’m talking about. And no street lights around- only the light of vehicles passing by (and the moon) to spot the tyre.
Guess, had had enough of adventure… ventured around…woke up a few dhabawalas fast asleep…tried asking them if I could get a taxi… A couple of them replied in expletives I cannot quote… another did not reply and yet another laughed his heart out. I could still hear him laugh as I walked back to the innova. I could almost hear him mouth “pata nahi kahaan kahaan se aa jate hain”
“Saab, abhi toh theek nahi hoga… aap doosri gaadi le lo”, said the innova driver as I reached back.
Tried stopping a few cars that raced past- they wouldn’t stop. Lifting my wet jeans up to my knees would not have helped me either. I aint Pooja Bhatt of Dil hai ki manta nahi.
Drenched… helpless… I stood there by the innova…. Mukesh singing, “duniya banaane wale, kya tere mann mein samaayee…”…
And then luck smiled. A kind truck driver stopped (if I remember right, his name was Balram). Hitched with him till a place very near Bhuj (he was not getting into the town- was going to Mundra). As I was getting out of the truck, handed the driver a 100 rupee note. He smiled, said, “kya saab” and looked away. He took it after a great deal of persuation.
Thanks to the truckwala, got a cab from where he dropped me who took me into Bhuj. My phone network started working again… got in touch with the company car driver who was kind enough to pick the call and help drop me at the company guest house at Bhuj. It was 2.45 AM.
Woke up at 5.30 today morning… and drove down to Sewagram/ Vayor where I’m writing this.
Something every touching happened on the drive. We had stopped over at a road side stall for tea. This tea was the first thing I was having since my snack on the Rajkot flight.
The tea for my driver and me cost 6 bucks. I gave the stall vendor (a teenaged boy) a 10 rupee note. He didn’t have the balance to pay me back. I was okay with it. He was not. After a lot of struggle, he found a 5-rupee coin and he asked if I had a rupee on me so that he could give me the fiver. I had a 2-rupee coin and felt it was no big deal at all if he took the extra rupee… he would have none of it… he said, “zyaada kaise le sakta hoon saab…”
This guy was wearing a very torn trouser…and an even more torn shirt…. I could sense from his utensils…and his appearance and his thela that he struggled to meet his basic needs.
As I drove past, I felt I had seen a very different world in the last few hours since yesterday morning.
This time, as I saw this world, my eyes were misty.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
The Earth is Flat...
... or so you'd believe if you just came back from a trip to Kachchh.
One can't but miss the remnants of tragedy in the air. We've just landed in Bhuj. One of the most exquisitely built airports- in true Kachchhi style. Expecting to find ruins from a most devastating earthquake, we step out- my friends from ECS and me.
I'm surprised. There are no ruins that I see. The town is neat- at least in the areas we drive through. The road is very well made. The driver tells me that this is an area of NRIs.
Our destination is still over a 100 kms away. We drive through some hamlets for some time. Something unique about this place that we drive through, is that one gets this feeling that there was "something" years back where there is "nothing" now. This region has borne the brunt of many an earthquakes- some very severe.
As one drives into kachchh, one can't miss the desolation of the region. Na kuch hai, na koi hai. A couple of very small hamlets do appear along the highway. You do spot the odd coconut groves.
We drive further into Kachchh. We don't see any trees around. We see shrubs around. The area is so flat that you may actually believe that as far as you see is all that there is...on earth. We were also privileged to see a few drops of the rain of kachchh. It lasted about 20 seconds. I'm told, the area is very rain deprived.
We reach our destination soon. Its been about 2.5 hours since we left Bhuj. We stayed there for about a week. One of the hallmarks of my trips was a late evening trek in the ruins of an old fort. Was an experience of a lifetime, though in the conventional sense, there is nothing to see. Snakes are plenty in this region. You see a lot of mongoose too- some dead, a lot more alive. I've shown some of you the video I shot there.
Incidentally, the water supply, food and other stuff comes to this village/ township from another village about 60 kms away.
One of the evenings, we also visited a lonely beach, an hour away from the last street light. Having a hot cup of tea on a lonely rocky beach, enjoying the night sky and the very strong breeze is a feeling I cannot describe in words. As an icing on the cake, we visited the Pingleswar temple (near the sea shore) during the evening Aarti with the temple bell tongs in full masti. Elevating experience.
The couple of nights I can never forget there were when the night sky was crystal clear- black, specked with stars all over. Stars, twinkling stars everywhere in the sky.
On the way back, we stopped over for a couple of hours at Bhuj- enjoying a Gujarati thali and visiting the under construction Swami Narayan temple. Also visited the Kachchh museum, which I'm told is Gujarat's oldest. An entry fee of Rs. 2 is all it takes for you to view Kachchhi artifacts and Harappan seals. There are some medieval inscripted stones and rocks as well on the display.
I'm back in Gurgaon now. I have fond memories of this exotic location. For the record, I went there for work- on a project.
I've shared with some of you some of the goods and not-so-goods of a consultant's life. If adventure and travel drives you, this is a career you can think of, as an alternative to a stint with National Geographic.
This one is dedicated to my friend Osho...who was just another colleague until a few weeks back.
One can't but miss the remnants of tragedy in the air. We've just landed in Bhuj. One of the most exquisitely built airports- in true Kachchhi style. Expecting to find ruins from a most devastating earthquake, we step out- my friends from ECS and me.
I'm surprised. There are no ruins that I see. The town is neat- at least in the areas we drive through. The road is very well made. The driver tells me that this is an area of NRIs.
Our destination is still over a 100 kms away. We drive through some hamlets for some time. Something unique about this place that we drive through, is that one gets this feeling that there was "something" years back where there is "nothing" now. This region has borne the brunt of many an earthquakes- some very severe.
As one drives into kachchh, one can't miss the desolation of the region. Na kuch hai, na koi hai. A couple of very small hamlets do appear along the highway. You do spot the odd coconut groves.
We drive further into Kachchh. We don't see any trees around. We see shrubs around. The area is so flat that you may actually believe that as far as you see is all that there is...on earth. We were also privileged to see a few drops of the rain of kachchh. It lasted about 20 seconds. I'm told, the area is very rain deprived.
We reach our destination soon. Its been about 2.5 hours since we left Bhuj. We stayed there for about a week. One of the hallmarks of my trips was a late evening trek in the ruins of an old fort. Was an experience of a lifetime, though in the conventional sense, there is nothing to see. Snakes are plenty in this region. You see a lot of mongoose too- some dead, a lot more alive. I've shown some of you the video I shot there.
Incidentally, the water supply, food and other stuff comes to this village/ township from another village about 60 kms away.
One of the evenings, we also visited a lonely beach, an hour away from the last street light. Having a hot cup of tea on a lonely rocky beach, enjoying the night sky and the very strong breeze is a feeling I cannot describe in words. As an icing on the cake, we visited the Pingleswar temple (near the sea shore) during the evening Aarti with the temple bell tongs in full masti. Elevating experience.
The couple of nights I can never forget there were when the night sky was crystal clear- black, specked with stars all over. Stars, twinkling stars everywhere in the sky.
On the way back, we stopped over for a couple of hours at Bhuj- enjoying a Gujarati thali and visiting the under construction Swami Narayan temple. Also visited the Kachchh museum, which I'm told is Gujarat's oldest. An entry fee of Rs. 2 is all it takes for you to view Kachchhi artifacts and Harappan seals. There are some medieval inscripted stones and rocks as well on the display.
I'm back in Gurgaon now. I have fond memories of this exotic location. For the record, I went there for work- on a project.
I've shared with some of you some of the goods and not-so-goods of a consultant's life. If adventure and travel drives you, this is a career you can think of, as an alternative to a stint with National Geographic.
This one is dedicated to my friend Osho...who was just another colleague until a few weeks back.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Himalayan Days
Driving along a hilly-mountainous road on a rainy day, you see a huge tree uprooted and lying flat across the road- a Tata Indica and its driver saved the wrath of the falling tree by a whisker- call it God’s grace, call it fate or rationalize it by saying he was able to apply the brakes at the right time.
A group of villagers take turns to use the only axe they possess to cut the tree into two and maybe, try and push it over the cliff. It rains harder, and the men try harder too- to cut the tree.
Expectedly, the traffic on both sides of the tree comes to a standstill. Expectedly, a large group of onlookers gather around the fallen tree.
One can see traces of sand and stones having rolled down the mountain. One can see a trail about 20 feet up the mountain. The climb up appears treacherous- a broken beer bottle lying on the ground where the climb begins. No proper places to keep your feet either- anywhere on the climb-path.
What better opportunity for a consultant to indulge in some adventure. More so, when the consultant is wearing his slippers- not even his shoes. Thanks to an equally adventurous boss, the consultant, with the help of the shoe-wearing boss try and attempt the climb the height and walk the trail.
On a routine day in a routine place, the climb would be routine. But this is neither a routine day nor a routine place. Believe me, the Himalayas, near the Indo-Tibet/ China border in Himachal can be treacherous when it is raining. (We actually saw a calf literally slipping off the cliff and falling into the deep valley below. Can never forget the sight of the helpless mother-cow running here and there- pleading to nobody in particular to rescue her kid).
We attempted the climb- my boss slipped and almost fell off a few times. I almost emulated his frequency of slipping.
Half way through, we realized, it “wasn’t worth the effort”. Prudence prevailed and we just about managed to come back safely.
The last 4-5 days have been different. We were in the Kinnaur district of Himachal as a part of a project. The village where we stayed lay right in the middle of a beautiful valley- the river Satluj with all its youthful might flowing right through the village. It is an interesting sight. The river is gushing in with all its fury. On its way it encounters rocks, striking them with great speed and forcefully slowing down in its advent towards God-knows-where; changing routes, dancing against the mightier rocks- jumping, twisting and twirling, dancing again and gracefully flowing along. And while it flows, water from different streams join in the river’s quest- some water, milky from the fresh snow that has melted and some, muddied by the rains.
The river absorbs all of this as it flows along.
Standing atop a bridge across the river, I think of the similarity of this river and its path, and the lives we live.
My visits to this bridge happened regularly through the days we stayed there. My regularly companion during these times was the moon, shyly gazing at me from behind the dark clouds.
There is something about the sound of water (river flow/ sound of waves/ rain drops) that has a soothing influence on one’s mind. At least I have felt this often.
I go back now, to “my regular world”- back in Gurgaon. The music of the river, its twists and twirls are still fresh in my mind. As I write this, the moon is still gazing at me. I can see its face now- it no longer is hiding behind the clouds.
To those of you who are making a trip to the mountains anywhere near the river- ensure that your windows are rolled down as you drive, else you may miss out on the music. Also, don’t miss the Dal served in these villages. Doesn’t taste better anywhere else.
Next week I’m likely to Rann off to Kucch. Diametrically opposite to the terrains I’ve just been to.
Watch this space for more.
A group of villagers take turns to use the only axe they possess to cut the tree into two and maybe, try and push it over the cliff. It rains harder, and the men try harder too- to cut the tree.
Expectedly, the traffic on both sides of the tree comes to a standstill. Expectedly, a large group of onlookers gather around the fallen tree.
One can see traces of sand and stones having rolled down the mountain. One can see a trail about 20 feet up the mountain. The climb up appears treacherous- a broken beer bottle lying on the ground where the climb begins. No proper places to keep your feet either- anywhere on the climb-path.
What better opportunity for a consultant to indulge in some adventure. More so, when the consultant is wearing his slippers- not even his shoes. Thanks to an equally adventurous boss, the consultant, with the help of the shoe-wearing boss try and attempt the climb the height and walk the trail.
On a routine day in a routine place, the climb would be routine. But this is neither a routine day nor a routine place. Believe me, the Himalayas, near the Indo-Tibet/ China border in Himachal can be treacherous when it is raining. (We actually saw a calf literally slipping off the cliff and falling into the deep valley below. Can never forget the sight of the helpless mother-cow running here and there- pleading to nobody in particular to rescue her kid).
We attempted the climb- my boss slipped and almost fell off a few times. I almost emulated his frequency of slipping.
Half way through, we realized, it “wasn’t worth the effort”. Prudence prevailed and we just about managed to come back safely.
The last 4-5 days have been different. We were in the Kinnaur district of Himachal as a part of a project. The village where we stayed lay right in the middle of a beautiful valley- the river Satluj with all its youthful might flowing right through the village. It is an interesting sight. The river is gushing in with all its fury. On its way it encounters rocks, striking them with great speed and forcefully slowing down in its advent towards God-knows-where; changing routes, dancing against the mightier rocks- jumping, twisting and twirling, dancing again and gracefully flowing along. And while it flows, water from different streams join in the river’s quest- some water, milky from the fresh snow that has melted and some, muddied by the rains.
The river absorbs all of this as it flows along.
Standing atop a bridge across the river, I think of the similarity of this river and its path, and the lives we live.
My visits to this bridge happened regularly through the days we stayed there. My regularly companion during these times was the moon, shyly gazing at me from behind the dark clouds.
There is something about the sound of water (river flow/ sound of waves/ rain drops) that has a soothing influence on one’s mind. At least I have felt this often.
I go back now, to “my regular world”- back in Gurgaon. The music of the river, its twists and twirls are still fresh in my mind. As I write this, the moon is still gazing at me. I can see its face now- it no longer is hiding behind the clouds.
To those of you who are making a trip to the mountains anywhere near the river- ensure that your windows are rolled down as you drive, else you may miss out on the music. Also, don’t miss the Dal served in these villages. Doesn’t taste better anywhere else.
Next week I’m likely to Rann off to Kucch. Diametrically opposite to the terrains I’ve just been to.
Watch this space for more.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Bahut nikle mere armaan...
You say that the day USSR collapsed, communism died its inevitable death. I ask, hypothetically, if the Taj Mahal were to collapse tomorrow, would you say that Love has died its death? The answer would be an obvious resounding "NO". Why? Coz Taj Mahal is not Love itself, only a symbol of Love.
Similarly, communism is a feeling- like Love.
I've taken out this by paraphrasing a scene from Kamal Hassan's Anbe Sivam, arguably amongst his best ever.
Let me also quote Che here- "Let me say, with the risk of appearing ridiculous,that the true revolutionary is guided by the spirit of Love. It is impossible to think of an authentic revolutionary without this quality."
Why do I write this today?
A few days back, I was at the launch of the Habitat Film Fest, which is showcasing this time, a retro of Sudhir Mishra's films. It began with Hazaron Khwaishein Aisi, the only cult film that I can think of- in my college days, besides Rang De Basanti. Those of us who saw this film loved it- for different reasons.
Siddharth Tyabji (Kaykay) is one of the protagonists in the film. A young man from a well-to-do family, driven by the leftist ideology, seeking to a create a difference in the society. Geeta Rao (Chitrangada Singh), a young lady driven by Love for her man and his ideology she adopts and eventually lives. Vikram Malhotra (Shiney Ahuja), the son of a middle class Gandhian, who is driven by thoughts of power, and the lady he loves (who loves another man).
A story through a decade from 1969, which sees these three go through different surprises in life- which sees them doing what they want to do and also living the collaterals they would never have imagined. It is also a story about Love. Love is a theme that plays in the background of the movie through its reels.
There are those times when I do watch movies purely for timepass. I guess most of us (the serious cinema lovers) relate to a movie/ story when we either relate to the characters or when we see the protagonists do what we wish we could do.
This film takes me back to a few years back. The Afghan war had just begun. In my own li'l way I was involved with a group of people who staged street plays urging people to wake up against American imperialism. We urged people to stop drinking Pepsi-Coke, stop wearing Nike/ Reebok... and disassociate themselves from anything American. Each time a new mind was indoctrinated, my mind rejoiced. And frustration set in each time I saw someone not convinced. We all believed things will change. We all believed that doing what we were doing would "awaken" a dormant society.
Days passed on, weeks flew by and winters gave way to summer that gave way to the rains... to autumn and to the winters.
My very close friend of those days used to call me Ajithations (the etymology of the name had nothing to do with the Afghan war. It came from the legendary BitBis dharna).
The idealism associated with anti-imperialism gave way to a realization that if I needed to do anything that was socially accepted as "worthwhile", I would have to rid myself of these ideas. This eventually made me slowly give up on certain views of mine. Was it a realization that the ideas would never reach their logical conclusion? Was it an awakening that the hopes would never be realized? I do not think so.
Pure selfishness :-)
I remember sitting in the last bench of route no. 816, boarding the bus after downing a bottle of coke- after long months of renunciation. It was my moment of truth at that time. This must have been 2003.
I have seen the film Hazaaron khwahishein aisi.. about 5-10 times now. Each time, I have seen new meanings in the film. Each time my mind takes a new route altogether.
I have nothing against films like "Partner", "Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna" and the likes. But, it is sad that such films as Hazaron don't have a large audience.
Lemme end this one by quoting Ghalib...
Hazaaron Khwahishein aisi, ki har khwahish pe dum nikle.
Bahut nikle mere armaan...lekin...fir bhi kam nikle....
Similarly, communism is a feeling- like Love.
I've taken out this by paraphrasing a scene from Kamal Hassan's Anbe Sivam, arguably amongst his best ever.
Let me also quote Che here- "Let me say, with the risk of appearing ridiculous,that the true revolutionary is guided by the spirit of Love. It is impossible to think of an authentic revolutionary without this quality."
Why do I write this today?
A few days back, I was at the launch of the Habitat Film Fest, which is showcasing this time, a retro of Sudhir Mishra's films. It began with Hazaron Khwaishein Aisi, the only cult film that I can think of- in my college days, besides Rang De Basanti. Those of us who saw this film loved it- for different reasons.
Siddharth Tyabji (Kaykay) is one of the protagonists in the film. A young man from a well-to-do family, driven by the leftist ideology, seeking to a create a difference in the society. Geeta Rao (Chitrangada Singh), a young lady driven by Love for her man and his ideology she adopts and eventually lives. Vikram Malhotra (Shiney Ahuja), the son of a middle class Gandhian, who is driven by thoughts of power, and the lady he loves (who loves another man).
A story through a decade from 1969, which sees these three go through different surprises in life- which sees them doing what they want to do and also living the collaterals they would never have imagined. It is also a story about Love. Love is a theme that plays in the background of the movie through its reels.
There are those times when I do watch movies purely for timepass. I guess most of us (the serious cinema lovers) relate to a movie/ story when we either relate to the characters or when we see the protagonists do what we wish we could do.
This film takes me back to a few years back. The Afghan war had just begun. In my own li'l way I was involved with a group of people who staged street plays urging people to wake up against American imperialism. We urged people to stop drinking Pepsi-Coke, stop wearing Nike/ Reebok... and disassociate themselves from anything American. Each time a new mind was indoctrinated, my mind rejoiced. And frustration set in each time I saw someone not convinced. We all believed things will change. We all believed that doing what we were doing would "awaken" a dormant society.
Days passed on, weeks flew by and winters gave way to summer that gave way to the rains... to autumn and to the winters.
My very close friend of those days used to call me Ajithations (the etymology of the name had nothing to do with the Afghan war. It came from the legendary BitBis dharna).
The idealism associated with anti-imperialism gave way to a realization that if I needed to do anything that was socially accepted as "worthwhile", I would have to rid myself of these ideas. This eventually made me slowly give up on certain views of mine. Was it a realization that the ideas would never reach their logical conclusion? Was it an awakening that the hopes would never be realized? I do not think so.
Pure selfishness :-)
I remember sitting in the last bench of route no. 816, boarding the bus after downing a bottle of coke- after long months of renunciation. It was my moment of truth at that time. This must have been 2003.
I have seen the film Hazaaron khwahishein aisi.. about 5-10 times now. Each time, I have seen new meanings in the film. Each time my mind takes a new route altogether.
I have nothing against films like "Partner", "Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna" and the likes. But, it is sad that such films as Hazaron don't have a large audience.
Lemme end this one by quoting Ghalib...
Hazaaron Khwahishein aisi, ki har khwahish pe dum nikle.
Bahut nikle mere armaan...lekin...fir bhi kam nikle....
Friday, April 11, 2008
Khuda ke liye...
Ajeetbhaai, aap toh samajhdaar ho. Agli baar jab mulaaqaat hogi, toh ummeed hai ki Inshallah aapne islam ko kabool kar liya hoga. Quran-e-kareem padhiye, aur sochiye. Allah Hafeez"
These were the parting words of my driver in Dubai- Abdul Qadir, from Peshawar in Pakistan.
After coming back from Dubai, I've watched two movies. Race was good. The other one I saw was this film called "Khuda Ke Liye"- a Pakistani production.
The film shows the two sides of current day Islam beautifully. One, the more tolerant and liberal face, and the other, the conservative and even medieval face.
The film tracks the story of two brothers- one drawn to radical Islam (he even gives up music, his greatest passion, in the name of Islam) and the other who goes on to study music in Chicago.
The film highlights beautifully the impact of misinterpretation and misunderstanding of the religion both by the followers of the faith and others. The one side, which highlights the radical practice by the followers shows how much of a problem it can create. One has to see the film to understand what I'm saying here. My friend who came with me to watch the film asked me if such implications could be true. I had and have no doubt in mind that this is absolutely true.
The other side highlights the impact of ignorance by the others, viz, the west. The typical American who is both stupid and ignorant, and high on arrogance, combined with a low IQ has been shown beautifully- as also the price the rest of us have to pay for American stupidity.
Go watch the film- it is a must see.
American studpidity and the compulsive American behaviour that dictates every decision they make to be linked to monetary benefits can be linked to what they are are saying, rather, not saying in Tibet. Heavy stakes in the olympics mean that their usual tomtomming of democracy and human rights does not apply to Tibet.
Why America, even India acts with impotency when it comes to Tibet. As a culture, we have always stood up for what is correct- the path of Dharma. There is a school of thought that if we openly advocate Tibetan freedom, it will adversely impact our case on Kashmir.
Incorrect...
The contexts are entirely different.
The elaborations are reserved for some other time.
Don't know why, but this song is playing in my mind as I write this... "Vidai kodu engal naade".
These were the parting words of my driver in Dubai- Abdul Qadir, from Peshawar in Pakistan.
After coming back from Dubai, I've watched two movies. Race was good. The other one I saw was this film called "Khuda Ke Liye"- a Pakistani production.
The film shows the two sides of current day Islam beautifully. One, the more tolerant and liberal face, and the other, the conservative and even medieval face.
The film tracks the story of two brothers- one drawn to radical Islam (he even gives up music, his greatest passion, in the name of Islam) and the other who goes on to study music in Chicago.
The film highlights beautifully the impact of misinterpretation and misunderstanding of the religion both by the followers of the faith and others. The one side, which highlights the radical practice by the followers shows how much of a problem it can create. One has to see the film to understand what I'm saying here. My friend who came with me to watch the film asked me if such implications could be true. I had and have no doubt in mind that this is absolutely true.
The other side highlights the impact of ignorance by the others, viz, the west. The typical American who is both stupid and ignorant, and high on arrogance, combined with a low IQ has been shown beautifully- as also the price the rest of us have to pay for American stupidity.
Go watch the film- it is a must see.
American studpidity and the compulsive American behaviour that dictates every decision they make to be linked to monetary benefits can be linked to what they are are saying, rather, not saying in Tibet. Heavy stakes in the olympics mean that their usual tomtomming of democracy and human rights does not apply to Tibet.
Why America, even India acts with impotency when it comes to Tibet. As a culture, we have always stood up for what is correct- the path of Dharma. There is a school of thought that if we openly advocate Tibetan freedom, it will adversely impact our case on Kashmir.
Incorrect...
The contexts are entirely different.
The elaborations are reserved for some other time.
Don't know why, but this song is playing in my mind as I write this... "Vidai kodu engal naade".
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
gElf diaries- 5- Khallaasss
If you are reading this, please read the following before reading this-
1) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-part-1.html
2) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-2-arabian-night.html
3) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-3-zimble-myoozings.html
4) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-4-yet-not-yet.html
(This was written on 6-April at the airport. This is being Published from Delhi on 9-April.)
Finally, here I am- sitting in the airport waiting to board the aircraft.
Some of you have been asking me what the professional experience here has been like. I will probably take that up in some other context. Maybe, it is out of scope for this blog.
Visited Jumeirah beach yesterday and man!!! I simply love the Indian beaches.
Not a single hawker in the beach. Woh feel nahi aayi…
Met a couple of old friends and acquaintances- some by design and some coincidentally.
Dubai seemed more like a neater and more crowded version of Bombay inhabited by Malayalees.
Feeling sleepy… very sleepy…
Excitedly looking forward to Delhi.
This series of gElf diaries is dedicated to the ECS team in Dubai- in particular 2 Abu Sheikh (erstwhile Abhishek), my flatmate in Dubai and now friend.
I shall write one more blog on my interactions here with the blue collared Expats- especially those from the subcontinent.
That’s it from me in the gElf. Khallas!!!
Inshallah, there shall be another such series!!!
1) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-part-1.html
2) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-2-arabian-night.html
3) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-3-zimble-myoozings.html
4) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-4-yet-not-yet.html
(This was written on 6-April at the airport. This is being Published from Delhi on 9-April.)
Finally, here I am- sitting in the airport waiting to board the aircraft.
Some of you have been asking me what the professional experience here has been like. I will probably take that up in some other context. Maybe, it is out of scope for this blog.
Visited Jumeirah beach yesterday and man!!! I simply love the Indian beaches.
Not a single hawker in the beach. Woh feel nahi aayi…
Met a couple of old friends and acquaintances- some by design and some coincidentally.
Dubai seemed more like a neater and more crowded version of Bombay inhabited by Malayalees.
Feeling sleepy… very sleepy…
Excitedly looking forward to Delhi.
This series of gElf diaries is dedicated to the ECS team in Dubai- in particular 2 Abu Sheikh (erstwhile Abhishek), my flatmate in Dubai and now friend.
I shall write one more blog on my interactions here with the blue collared Expats- especially those from the subcontinent.
That’s it from me in the gElf. Khallas!!!
Inshallah, there shall be another such series!!!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
gElf Diaries 4- Yet, Not yet!!!
If you are reading this, please read the following before reading this-
1) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-part-1.html
2) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-2-arabian-night.html
3) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-3-zimble-myoozings.html
Exceedingly pretty eyes she had,
Piercing, misty and green.
They reflected something sad,
But beautiful they were,
As beautiful as can be.
I was sitting sipping my latte in Starbucks when I noticed this beautiful girl. I’ve just described to you the eyes. My cuzin sis who was sitting with me mentioned that her cheeks resembled a “thakkaali” (tomato in tamil). I could not stop staring at the girl.
Usually, when I see a beautiful girl, I try not to make the ogling obvious. This has been more prominent in the Middle East. Yahaan toh dar lagta hai kisi bandi se aankh milaane mein.
But in this case, I cared not for (my self imposed) Middle Eastern norms. She was pretty and there to be seen. She knew it too, through a sixth sense that only womenfolk have, that there was a pair of Indian eyes looking into hers. For a few seconds, or probably a fraction, our eyes met.
Most of the Middle Eastern girls have amazingly good-looking features. Only that they seem to be using layers and layers of make-up. Also this entire city smells of perfumes- inside the lifts, inside the malls, inside the office, just about everywhere.
Something intriguing about the girls though is that most of them are shrouded in a black gown.
The best thing about Dubai is that women can roam around freely here- without an iota of fear of eve teasing.
I’m now counting my days in Dubai. I’m likely to be back in India anytime now. Acquaintances do not seem to understand- there is a unique relief that pervades me when I think of coming back to India.. Friends will know.
I’d mentioned in my previous blogs about me going where destiny takes me. Looks like I’m going back to Gurgaon for now. Par Kal ka kya hai, kisne dekha….
I got a hang of the city’s enormity yesterday. A night drive on Sheikh Zayed road, skyscrapers on the left and the right, a massive highway and the badi badi gaadiyaan… tez tez chalti hui… from one traffic jam to another.
The Mall of Emirates would be a treat for a shopping freak. I guess I am not one.
My eyes long for roads lined with trees,
This place is filled with luxuries,
I see cranes, I see buildings,
I see cars and I see roads wide.
Yet I know not when I shall find my peace,
But, I do know when I shall see those roads,
Potholed and narrow, yet lined with trees,
This longing shall cease.
1) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-part-1.html
2) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-2-arabian-night.html
3) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-3-zimble-myoozings.html
Exceedingly pretty eyes she had,
Piercing, misty and green.
They reflected something sad,
But beautiful they were,
As beautiful as can be.
I was sitting sipping my latte in Starbucks when I noticed this beautiful girl. I’ve just described to you the eyes. My cuzin sis who was sitting with me mentioned that her cheeks resembled a “thakkaali” (tomato in tamil). I could not stop staring at the girl.
Usually, when I see a beautiful girl, I try not to make the ogling obvious. This has been more prominent in the Middle East. Yahaan toh dar lagta hai kisi bandi se aankh milaane mein.
But in this case, I cared not for (my self imposed) Middle Eastern norms. She was pretty and there to be seen. She knew it too, through a sixth sense that only womenfolk have, that there was a pair of Indian eyes looking into hers. For a few seconds, or probably a fraction, our eyes met.
Most of the Middle Eastern girls have amazingly good-looking features. Only that they seem to be using layers and layers of make-up. Also this entire city smells of perfumes- inside the lifts, inside the malls, inside the office, just about everywhere.
Something intriguing about the girls though is that most of them are shrouded in a black gown.
The best thing about Dubai is that women can roam around freely here- without an iota of fear of eve teasing.
I’m now counting my days in Dubai. I’m likely to be back in India anytime now. Acquaintances do not seem to understand- there is a unique relief that pervades me when I think of coming back to India.. Friends will know.
I’d mentioned in my previous blogs about me going where destiny takes me. Looks like I’m going back to Gurgaon for now. Par Kal ka kya hai, kisne dekha….
I got a hang of the city’s enormity yesterday. A night drive on Sheikh Zayed road, skyscrapers on the left and the right, a massive highway and the badi badi gaadiyaan… tez tez chalti hui… from one traffic jam to another.
The Mall of Emirates would be a treat for a shopping freak. I guess I am not one.
My eyes long for roads lined with trees,
This place is filled with luxuries,
I see cranes, I see buildings,
I see cars and I see roads wide.
Yet I know not when I shall find my peace,
But, I do know when I shall see those roads,
Potholed and narrow, yet lined with trees,
This longing shall cease.
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