Lost World

I wanted to discard every thing that is obsolete, every thing which is not in use, every thing which I disliked, every thing which brought me ill luck ( sounding superstitious? yep. That's how it is). Many times I wanted to describe myself as person with no past nor future. I am living at this moment. Hardly I regret for what has happened in the past nor do I bother much about my future. I dislike to live in antiquated bildings may it be the Taj Hotel. Neither do I like too futuristic interiors as they look extra terristrial devoid of plants and mortals. Given a choice between "Ghajini" and "Bobby" perhaps I would prefer to watch Ghajini. If at all I confirm to the old order on certain issues, it's because after so many deductions I arrived that, human life could be less tumultous if they possibly stick to certain core elements. In comparative terms probably I bother much about the world at large than with my own issues. It may look silly. But that's it.

As the last reminder of my past I found that small rusted box, which perhaps no beggar on earth would like to pick it even if I leave it on a busy road. It was lying on my table for the past one week. But least in one weak moment I did not feel like opening it. As it started gathering dust around, I was compelled to open it. It was the moment of awakening. Should I call it so? or moment of resurrection?

It contained so many letters, little reminders of my "Betein huwe din". Some as old as my 10th class days. Many of my friends expressing their anguish on account of my absence on one occassion and wanting me to come back to my home town.I even I forgot some names as I never chanced to meet them again. Some wrote tinged with humour , some requesting, some with casual and matter of fact tone , some in tears,... one thing was very obvious. All of them loved me so much. All of them wanted me back with them as early as possible. But what have I given to them in return? I was a quirky, snooty, heavy head filled with hubris. I thought it was my right to be loved. They were all bound by the duty of friendship with me. I bragged, teased, and abused them very often. But to my surprise none of them deserted me. They always wanted to be close to me, sit with me, play with me, and talk to me. I wonder with all the pit falls how I was liked by one and all. With all the politeness, maturity and kindness I am not able make friendship with any one at the moment. How that stupid "Bewakuf ladki" turned to be an apple in the eyes of so many people around. All the letters dating back decades are fading in colour and close to ashes. All of the old friends have disappeared. I never maintined a contact with them as I was not allowed to do so by my parents once I moved out of the town.Back then I felt that my exuberance was tempered and I was stymed from my favourite foibles. Yet I do not feel sad about it now. Probably even if I meet all the old friends now I may not be able to open my heart. It is past. It faded and melted away into darkness.

One letter stood apart from all others. I wonder how I missed to gauge the wisdom, mental prowess of my lost friend during my friendship days. The knowing, which I thought I have acquired during my past long years, was already there in nutshell in front of me by way of simple letter. How come I could not assimilate the esense of life despite my long correspondence with him ? God alone knows how he thought this stupid girl was fit enough to be his close friend? He throught I had the potential to be some thing (phew) His long stint of education in IITs also could not change his faith towards me. He wrote about so many things which are beyond my reach even to day. He read so much. He learnt so much. He discussed so much. He met so many.He wrote some. Life being cryptic in definition for him, he remained a constant traveller, endless explorer. He was a man with dicerning perspective towards life. He never enjoyed his youth. He refused to buckle to the mainstream masala living. He never enjoyed anything but his persuit of knowledge. He was man who dived into his own heart to the greater depths of it's unfolding secrecy. He sat in Kanpur campus in the midnight squatting on a rug barely covering himself in 3-4 C temperature. He was man who laid down on the dark shores of Orissa coast trying to understand the sounds of waves and coarse wind(as he wrote) He is the man who explained to me about Radha krishnan, Raja rao, Thomas Mann, Satre, Santayana, Francis Bacon, Virginia Wolf, Fitze Gerald, Will Durant, Russian critics, malayalee poets, Butchi babu, Viswanatha Satyanarayana, so on so forth and I swear I do not remember any. He introduced me to the world of philosophers, scientists, critics, and so many reverential souls that lived on this earth from time immemorial. It is impossible for me to complete even a fraction of what he read in his in his early twenties. Where are you my friend? How nice it would have been had I been mature enough to apprehend what you have been trying to teach me !. Yet I don't want to see you again. You are a past. You disappeared away from my memory lane.No one can give me a call from the forsaken lands. I do not turn back to shed a tear nor to jump overjoyed. I keeping walking ... walking a head. I can only see the way forward in this increasingly fading evening light.

Oscars - The Indian Way

Tears rolled down my cheeks while I was watching an Indian musician receiving Oscars. How long did it take? We have been yearning to see an Indian receive an international acclaim in each one of the international events. Bindra made it with his golden gun. Boxers made it at Olympics. One Tagore, one Milkha singh, one Usha, one Vishwanath Anand... few.. very few could make it to the top. It is too little for one billion plus. Vast untapped pool of talent, creativity, huge amount of potential which is worth an applause , accolade is lying here in this Indian soil dusting and rusting. Many remain unexploited, some remain neglected, few crushed to death, very few reach their pinnacle of success. Facing fierce and cut throat competition for very limited opportunities and facilities, many are torn between fame and life struggle to make both ends meet. The story continued for decades, and our generation came to the point of despair that we would never be able to make it. But long overdue miracle has happened to the young India, and to day they are able to brake the barriers. It is truly amazing experience to watch few dancing to an Indian tune in Oscars.Certainly it is not his best number. Yet I am happy, I am happy beyond words.

Many are hoping too many things and I am not too sure about them. But surely it inspired many. Given the back drop of the demarcating line between good cinema and commercial cinema is almost thinning down to the point of blurring in the Indian context, now big producers can venture with an eye on international aura simultaneously with element of commercial purpose. No more dark underbellies please !

What a Pulitzer or Booker is to a writer, what Olympics is to a player,what a Noble is to a scientist , The Oscar is to an artist. Thank you Rahman! You got it for us. What I wrote about you down from my memory achieves did not deviate much from what they fathomed about you in print.. (Thank God!) Your jingles for Titan.. I never knew that it was you. But I knew it from the bottom of my heart that it was a trend setter.But I can't help pointing you on account. Your first acceptance speech was a flop. It was O.K.for Indian audience. But you did not make use of your international podium well. Cheer up boy! Perhaps you have many more such occasions waiting for you.

We are not technically aware of what magic Rasul Pookutty has cast. But what he spoke is truly sensible and has great depth. But we can not think of Rasul without Rahman being coming to lime light. Our technical excellence has too little exposure to an outsider, neither do we have too great infrastructure to put our talent to best use. The kind of fabulous music scores other nominations showcased have to be taken into cognizance while fixing our parameters of excellence. The very prerequisite for an international recognition is absolute impeccable perfection with high technical quality. Nothing short of top class quality can earn you fame in Western medium. At the moment we are not too far away from them. The borders are seemingly not invincible. We made a beginning.

Plub Culture

Did I hear it right? Yes. I am one hundred percent sure. The chief minister of Karnataka said so in his press conference. All the people on earth want to stop it with many more ministers joining the wagon. More gruesomely attacking the women in pubs. Who are these self styled culture defenders? Certainly they are not the people who are worried about the people. In the present day of opportunistic politics, each and every group carving a niche for themselves, these people want a place for themselves. One chooses regionalism, one chooses religion, and the other chooses culture. By what propriety god alone knows these people brag that they are the representatives of Hindu Culture. They apply massive tilak on their fore heads, give lectures, they garland themselves, their sycophants clap, they shout flaunting on the streets and they vandalise. People around look at them aghast and choose by_lanes to avoid them and unwillingly contribute if they come with a donation dabba to celebrate a festival or puja as they look fiercely religious. Yesterday it was pub, to day it is valentine's day, tomorrow who knows what is in store for women? Will they ask to cover head? or not to wear jeans? or punish for not wearing bindi? This is the high time we condemn this extreme behaviour.It causes serious concern among the peace loving citizens. Let us not cave into this kind of flagrant heavy weight religious men. As it is they have created havoc by attacking Churches and disturbing the peace between the communities. Let us not be indoctrinated by this extremely intelligent self serving people. We never endorsed any body to represent our culture. Irresponsibly certain governments continue to shield them and stonewall criticism from all the quarters.. Do we have to vote them to power? At times submission too is connivance to a crime.

World Worries.

The chill winds on the wane for sometime. The blooming "Gul Mohar" trees symbolize onset of more blazing summer. Head to toe blankets or rugs discorded with disdain with our increasing need to breath more fresh air. Mornings are quicker and turning brighter. Misty dawns, small bonfires, mufflers, are coming to an end. The brief cool winters are almost over. Despite of all dry skins they bring, winters have their own charm. You are absolutely cool. You do not have to turn on fan round the clock and frenetically search for fresh air inlets. You can enjoy deep slumber till late in the mornings. No need to turn on A.C and pay fat electricity bills. Blessed with undisturbed sleep during nights as we don't wake up to abruptly switch off silently killing A.C . No longer you fight with your partner for right fully owning a bed right under the ceiling fan. Not required to stop at roadside to buy a dry coconut or drink sugar cane juice with contaminated ice. Your throat is flawless as you do not gulp extremely cold waters from the fridge to quench your thirst. No need to take evening shower ( as against a bucketful of cold water generously poured over body with a big plastic mug in summers. Back then I wondered how all the world outside India is surviving with out a plastic mug in their bathrooms and I wanted to hide a mug in my suit case while I take my foreign trip) The roads beginning to look dusty and hot. I am depressed. I am heading towards great Indian summer.

I vaguely remember Stalin speeches unearthed from my daddy's trunk saying "We need only three things to win the war". My curiousness rose as my eyes ran through his next utterance " arms, arms and arms". That was the age when word jugglery was always the tickling factor on my nerves. Similarly we have only three seasons in India. Summer, summer and summer. The very first day in the rainy season is the happiest day in my life. I take great pleasure in imagining that I am living in a farthest day of an year away from summer. Intermittently sun continue to scorch during the dry spells even during rainy season, the more severe the drought is the more our predicaments are. Few down pours, followed by few cloudy weeks, ending like few bright fortnights, all pass by the wink. After marooning few cities, the water, clamoured for long, runs into the gutters, people watch them not knowing what to do with it when flows unasked. Administration has no idea how conserve it. It is refreshing to know that even in Chirapunji, the place with the highest rainfall in the world, people buy water in summer. I think you can not find a finer paradox than this. The winter enters when our occasional showers totally miss from our weather charts. No doubt our winters are increasingly becoming warmer. We are hardly finding an occasion even to wear a sweater. Yet days are cooler than in summer. We can work with utmost efficiency without being exhausted, and do all the other stuff which I have mentioned above.

Our miseries in summers are numerous and to a great extent many are man made. Our perennial power problems remain unresolved. As far as my memory goes I grew up with power cuts. Even to day there is no end to my power problems affirming my belief that time taken for finding a solution to some of our problems is minimum one generation's life span. Our nuclear deal achieved by jumping through hoop of fire with a hope to solve our power problems.. Still I am stuck with the idea that it will take off only after my counting days on earth. It always has a fair chance of being buried too if my left friends come to power. Power cuts used to begin in summer. As an indication of our being more progressive they were preponed to winter. Now as we progress more they are further advanced to rainy season. You can be taken by surprise by watching heavy down pours from your window on day one and other day followed by eight hour power cut (it is no power breakdown) Water problems add ten folds to our power problems. Municipality have their own tricky ways of conserving water with erratic supplies. Interestingly they become more enthusiastic with repair works during summer, apart from the vows brought by abruptly bursting Krishna water pipe line due to it's faulty execution. Rural folks are worst hit as there is no one to sell water around nor they have money to buy it, desperately keep gazing their withered crops.Bore wells going deeper and deeper in search of water, one fine morning stop pumping water to the surface. Mercury touching 50 Celsius in most parts of the land , one wonders if the country is turning into Sahara Desert.

Much cherished springs of the West are barely enjoyable in Indian subcontinent. Cuckooing sounds like fire alarm while we exasperate covering our heads with a handkerchief walking on the roads. Fruits which are supposed to cool our body in summers, make their presence even before onset of summer and disappear when people really need them. Poor mangoes chemically ripened even before they reach their riping age look attractive enough to buy, but tongue piercingly sour to taste. Hence forth eat them sour or abandon them. Nature gifts abundantly but we have no patience to wait.

As our days are becoming increasingly hot with soaring sun, and our evenings are fuming with radiation from concrete structures and tar roads. We were living on the edge few years ago. At the moment we are on the the brim. We have systematically destroyed our planet with greater speed than even anticipated. Imagine Mumbai drowning in the sea, Sunderbans vanishing from the map, and Mount Everest sans ice cap. Tree less forests, wild sanctuaries with scant wild life, straying elephants in to the human habitat, dwindling tigers, extincting millions of under water life, monkeys hanging to our windows, all these disastrous changes occur as a result of man's mindless aggression on nature. Homosapiene the greatest thinking animal, has turned too casual, and at times greedy, and above all rapidly multiplying.

Our scriptures say when river Ganga dries up it is symbolically end of "Aryavarth" .Whether we believe it or not our great river "Ganges" is one of the seven most endangered rivers on earth. So is the condition of many other rivers too, finally tapering into lean patches or stinky swamps with industrial effluents. Senseless felling of trees, animal poaching, carbon emissions, plastics, industrial waste, what not? We have abused this mother earth. We have dumped every thing on it's heart. Now we have to be prepared to face it's wrath. It is hard to find any one who fails to enjoy nature's beauty. As our nature is shrinking with man's ever expanding territories what are we leaving behind for our posterity?

It is never too late for a good work. At least now let us do some thing in a small way. Let us check resource wastage. Let us abandon polutants. Let us protect our green cover. Let us plant a sapling. Does this sound like an ad? No . It is heart felt.