This winter break was rather a very short one. Probably little over two weeks. But like my buddy’s time at home on thanksgiving, my time was non-stop. I was always onto something – meet family X, call person Y and catch up with friend Z, purchase B, get done the task C. If not anything, spend time on Facebook and emails and watching movies. Not that I disliked any of these (well … some of them), I wouldn’t have done these in that case. But I never got time to think. I never got time to spend with myself. Even though I love being with people I love and I keep on saying that I am not a big fan of my own company, but now I realize how much I can be happy and creative and productive, when I am left alone! Alone also means no internet either – just me and my solitude.

What do I do when I need that time and space to think? Head to mountains! I didn’t have the luxury of time to go to Himalayas. Plus that would have taken long travel time and my own company would have haunted me then. I decided to visit my uncle ji in Dehradun – not Himalayas , but their foot hills! 12 hours of comfortable to-and-fro train journey and 4 hours of company of a wonderful friend Fakru and my uncle ji.

Considering the non-stop days of break so far, I felt liberated in this journey. In fact I am in the process of liberation right now, as I write this aboard Delhi-Dehradun Shatabdi. 5 months of stay in US has given me some identity crisis which I had felt strongly many times in last two weeks in Delhi. Listening to Swades song and jogging, I would hardly feel that dramatic overwhelming sensation. I never was anyway big fan of Indian cities.

Now, sitting by the huge window of train, sipping the lovely scenery outside, I am feeling connected back to my interpretation of India. Passengers of non-Shatabdi train moving parallel to us, marveling at me and my train. I used to be them few years back. The multi-lingual boards of stations reading Deoband in Urdu, English and Hindi. The bundled up people on unsheltered platform.. slowly waking up to the morning after their last night’s slumber under cold winter sky. The raw unaltered natural beauty of Indian greens. I am writing, scripting, directing and producing my own film. And watching it too. And all this Just in Time! I can chose not to write whatever is not adding to the aesthetics of this lovely journey. I am changing the script the way I want. Soundtrack is of my choice. Well I am only listening to Discovery of India for last 2 hours. Through this song, a woman called India, is waking up from sleep and giving out a call to return to Country. And the film non-cyclical. Every scene , every station , every crop field is new. I am sipping the fog covered forests and rivers and fields. Actually, that crazy song peelun peelun, might actually fit more here. I am enjoying every sip of this experience. I noticed that I was smiling all this while. Non-stop!

Fog is not ready to disappear. No matter how much I get away from Delhi, fog is walking with me. Like I did not see sunrise when I was going to Chicago from Delhi for the first time. Every time I opened the window, I would see darkness flying with me.

There were some new and interesting things inside the train too! Train is much more spacious and cleaner. There were sliding doors. There was toilet paper in restroom! When I took my seat, I was thirsty. I wish I could ring a bell like in flight and request for water. What’s the harm in having an airhostess or air-host in a train! There were transparent overhead cabins for placing luggage. You can always look up and reassure yourself that your bag is there. I didn’t use that though , because I needed to dig my bag often and didn’t want bug my co-passenger. But this looked fancy, probably planes may also consider having them. I never saw waiter in train asking for tip. Tip in Shatabdi—holy shit! It’s like a moving restaurant!!! Am I friggin travelin in Palace on Wheels!! And I actually ended up tossin a 10! Well I was pleased with his service too. Plus I wanted to know what it would feel like if I do that in a train!

Now folks inside train. I was intrigued by my ability to establish an unspoken and unexpressed relationship with co-passengers. I just met them.. well not even met them, hardly spoke a word with them, except when I needed to get out and pee and I would request co-passenger in hardly audible words, but mostly through gestures to move and let me out. In spite of this absence of any dialogue or sharing of anything, I felt my decisions and actions and thoughts were influenced by them – when I would make choice of vegetarian or non-vegetarian food, when I would make choice of newspaper and when I am writing all this. Not that influence was very heavy and factor in them before making any choice or doing some action, but they do enter in my head, albeit briefly. I try to assess their background, occupation. Which I don’t want to. But probably one does tend to think. Even when one sees a leaf or an apple. At the same time, there is lot of indifference too. I can write my journal entries without feeling conscious or concerns about privacy intrusion. And would otherwise keep my personal diaries deeply and strictly guarded.

And did I mention the computerized-digital-waitlist-reservation-display on the platform?

Today Economic Times released the list of best business schools in India and they called the list “India’s Ivy League”. Media refers to even an ancient Indian ruler as India’s Alexander. When a film on homosexuality is made here, they call it India’s answer to Broke-back Mountain. We make North Eye in Noida to present to the world India’s London Eye! Today, while writing about IIM Ahmadabad, they mentioned in the pros of the 50 year old school that its curriculum is modeled on Harvard Business School.

After 50 years, IIMA’s syllabus is still based on HBS, and we are proud of that? And we are counting that as a reason for placing IIMA on the top of ‘India’s Ivy League’? And why can they just not be India’s premier schools, why Ivy League? After so many years, can English literature grads serving as editors and journalists think of nothing but Ivy Leagues to convey the meaning of elitist schools? Are their creativity and vocabulary so limited? Even after 60 years of independence, do media and India’s crappy journalists want us to continue giving answers to the West’s people, buildings, institutes etc.?

When we talk of India’s glory, we often talk of ZERO that Aryabhatt discovered. But what after that? No, we are better off sitting on our historical achievements.
When exactly shall we make original things again and call them original too instead of India’s answer to America or Japan or France?

I strongly believe that one thing that was discovered in the past and is still relevant is Kamasutra. Countries around the world try and answer us. Hungarian Kamasutra. Japan’s answer to Kamasutra. Swedish Kamasutra.

When will make another such relevant achievement so that news papers get something better to write?

Well till then, Hail Kamasutra.

Ever since I returned from villages, I am trying to get out of a cultural shock. One of them is finding everyone speaking in English wherever I go. Last weekend when I went to Kamani Auditorium for this concert of Raja Radha Reddy, there too I noted that almost everyone spoke English only. This reminded me that last time when I was at Kamani to attend Kucchipudi concert organized by Indian Government. The compere spoke in English, all the guests and ministers addressed the people in English. Question is WHY ENGLISH? I am not one of those self-appointed preservers of Indian culture who propose that anything ‘non-Indian’ including English language should be done away with. But I do question the use of this language to communicate when there’s no absolute need. For example, at Kamani, consider any two girls or for that matter, any two people. You will find them chattering in English. Did they not know Hindi? I doubt. Did they find that more convenient? This could be a possible reason for them to speak, because other possible reason could be pretense or attempts to impress. But these other reasons can’t explain this behavior of so many people. Only a few could be pretentious or were in the process of impressing someone. That brings us to the first possibility. What made it inconvenient for people to speak the language that so many people around them spoke while they grew up? If some Indian grew up outside India, it is understandable. Again, not all those people who come to Kamani grow up in Singapore or US or UK. Is it the upbringing itself? I see a clue here. In many families residing in India, English is the common medium of communication even at home. Kids are talked to by teachers and parents in English. Siblings speak with each other in English. Kids talk to each other in school and outside in English. That can certainly make it inconvenient for such children to speak a language other than English when they grow up.

While discussing the dilemma with this female from UNHCR, she narrated the incident of a 5 year old kid asking her to open a tap in a restaurant because, “I can’t reach the tap you see I am small”. In fact I also had mentioned in a very old post that I had observed few years back in Bangalore, kids learning Hindustani classical music with सा as Sa and रे as Re!

Further questions can be raised now. What is the need to create this atmosphere of English language around a growing child? If this continues, this will have a ripple effect or chain effect, the new set of parents that will take birth in few years, will find it completely natural to see English being spoken everywhere. It will no more be need based. In fact I guess, already there must be many families, that have this cultural setup at home and outside homes with natural ease. Result ? The Indian languages will be phased out from chains of such families. Of course that will never lead to dying of Indian languages, particularly the popular ones, because such families constitute very small percentage of humanity. 70% Indian residents still reside in villages and speak the different variants of those popular languages. Even in cities and towns majority of people speaks Indian languages.

In that case, this growing proliferation of English, spacing out Hindi and other languages from those families should not be a concern, RIGHT? I have one concern though. Many people in our country who matter, who decide the policies for the rest of the country perhaps belong to such families?

By the way, Shree mentioned that Madhuri Dixit was the last Indian actress to speak Hindi with correct diction and grammar. Should it matter if most popular cinema doesn’t use the most commonly spoken language correctly? Well no. Because most common people anyway do not relate to such ‘popular cinema’. Or do they?

When ‘they’ came!

I was told the previous night that someone was coming to ‘see’ me. That’s what we call it in India when we are arranging a meeting for fixing up a marital alliance. Everybody knew that it’s too early for me to even think of it, and that I had no plans for marriage right now. So, I asked my parents why were my ‘prospective in-laws’ visiting us in the first place when it wasn’t gonna lead to anything. I was then promised that it would be nothing but a Sunday brunch with random relatives.

Next morning, when they arrived, I was taking shower. As I came out of shower, I heard my parents singing out eulogies for me. Holy crap! My feet were too frozen to go downstairs and enter the room amidst the eulogy session and do a ‘meet the parents’ there! I called up a friend to tell him I was feeling shy and scared by the heavy weight of the sights of everyone around me in next few minutes. He told me to relax and better concentrate on recipe of Samosa, so that I can narrate it when people do not believe that I prepared them, which of course I hadn’t.

For the ease of writing, the prospective in-laws will be called Mr and Mrs. Mr asked me the break up of my salary. I literally had no clue. Every month when salary arrives in my salary account, I silently transfer a fixed amount in my dad’s account, pay my credit card, mobile and other bills and have a look at the amount left, to decide how I am gonna live in the coming month! So I could not divulge details on this question of Mr, which seemed to have left him in some doubts. Mrs asked me if I wanted the girl to work after marriage or stay at home. What the hell was I gonna say to that.. I simply told them that I had’t even thought of any of this, there was nothing I could comment. But my SBMA blood was boiling now after being a part of gender activities in garhwal! so I did probe them why they want me to decide what she wanted to do after marriage. They were so typical. They repeated the exact same thing what my parents had said to the other party in such meetings when we were looking for alliance for my sister, ‘हमने तो कह दिया है बेटी से , अभी घर में रह, बाद में ससुराल में जाके कर लेना जो करना है , as if in sasural, she will have her will!

In fact at this point, this struck me for the first time that if I end up marrying into such a family, I will be having two set of similar parents, & families both of which will be of thinking wavelength different from mine. Handling one itself is taxing, what I am gonna do against the power of two! I am sure that any alliance through my parents will present this power of two. So I gotta find someone before I get overpowered by the power of two.

I forgot to mention the eulogy that was harped in my presence. “Our son has no bad qualities – doesn’t drink , doesn’t smoke, doesn’t eat non-veg.” None of which was true! I noticed that this has been happening ever since I could remember. Is it that my parents did not know that I do all these, or that it’s a formal ritual to make this statement in such meetings? I remember hearing about a guy in Kumaon who could not get married after 35 because of his honesty which made him mention in every meeting that he drank.

What are these arrange marriages, if they begin with hiding things? How come a sea of humanity believes and respects this kind of institution when majority of these marriages begin like this? It seems to be a done thing, an unwritten rule. I discussed with some married couples and they told that of course no one affirms when asked such questions as ‘do you drink’, ‘do you dope’, this is how it works always.

Towards the end, the most embarrassing thing happened. I thought I would not need to blush or anything. But how could this be complete without that. My parents asked me in front Mr and Mrs when we should go to see the girl. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I thought it was just a brunch, I could digest the questions of marital enquiries, but ‘meet the girl’? I gave the best blush possible. Mr and Mrs told me not feel shy, and that I could visit them anytime, and that I could meet her in Maaaaalll also. I had blushed enough now, did not know what to do next because don’t-feel-shy commandments were being issued from all directions now!

At this critical point, I was saved by a phone call, which we all knew must be from didi. I ran before my dad could pick the receiver and thanked her for calling, which I never do otherwise! I spent as much time on call as I could as against usually telling her in 5 mins that I was hanging up. As I finished with the call hoping that festival downstairs must be over by now, my parents and other parents came upstairs in my room to see the rest of the house. Anyways, they left soon expecting that we would visit them in the evening to see the girl, which my parents were eagerly looking forward to.

It’s intereting for me to now that for the first time, I kinda felt empowered. I kinda feel that I am now in a position when people will wait for my decision, although everyone comes into this position at least once, so it’s not really a big deal. But it was my first time. Was it because I am an Indian male or that now I am of marriageable age?

After they left, mummy asked me ‘क्या करना है ’?
‘what do you mean क्या करना है , it was only for formality, we were all clear that nothing will happen out of it’
My dad added, ‘क्या पता पसंद आ जाए तो कर भी लें’.

By now a filter was already plugged in my head to ignore the talks around and enjoy my soap ‘how I met your mother’

My mom came to Delhi as a young bride from a small village in Haryana about 40 years ago. After all these years later, now she hears about Common Wealth Games being hosted by Delhi in 2010. Yesterday evening, she reflected, “यह खेल कनाट प्लेस में हो रहे होंगे “. (I think that these games will be held in Connaught place)

WHY? This woman spent over 40 years of her life in this city, voted for different governments, paid taxes for everything she consumed. Yet the places she lived in are never considered to be ‘Delhi’?

I hear about Bed and Breakfast scheme of Delhi Tourism. I hear about ‘Shera’, the mascot of the games touring Delhi. I hear of baton of Common Wealth Games doing rounds in different parts of Delhi. I hear and see these things only through news papers and televisions. Why can’t I see them with my eyes in real, without going at least 15 kilometres to see the celebration?

When will the places like Uttam Nagar, Sagar Pur, Raghu Nagar, or for that matter, all places on the left side of the wide sewage drain that separates Janak Puri area from the ‘others’ be counted in DELHI?

Or will Delhi always mean CP, ‘DefCol’, GK, Rohini, DU etc?

Rajniti

My first film after I returned to ‘world’. Actually this is the first film I watched in theatre after more than a year. So my negative feedback could have been more had I been regular to theatre. But I was in cinema after like ages, so I was enjoying the sounds and big screen. In fact , I was imagining how my first film will look like on this screen. I wish I could screen my Swades Ki Khoj in that auditorium. I was just wondering how different scenes and different sounds in the film will appear.

So here it is. Photography, no doubt, is awesome. The blast scene in which Prithvi & Sara die is shot with awesome seriousness which the scene deserved. There is one thing that I carry back with me on my way to home from theatre. In this case, it was the song, ‘more piya’. I am sure I am gonna hum it for quite some time now. Another awesome thing is Katrina Kaif. I loved her with that deep red bindi. How beautiful can a woman with no make up and just one bindi! In all the ethnic wear, she showed a side of her beauty which I was unfamiliar with for so long.

BUT. Yes there’s BUT. The film had way too much violence. It brought so much of hopelessness. Agreed, all those dirty games take place in politics, but not in a span of 2.5 hours. Indira Gandhi & Rajeev Gandhi and many other Gandhis did not die in hours of each other’s assassination. So at one point, it all looked unconvincing. I felt like now any one could kill anyone at any point. I was expecting every single character in the film to die in the next shot! How could Sara or Katrina not be kidnapped & raped in the revenge game. How could Bharti & Sara move around openly in the New market in a time, which to me appeared, no less than a curfew. The scene with Bharti & Ajay in the end sounded so much artificial & farce because of the Mahabharat analogy they were trying to bring. The resemblance was uncanny.
Worst part, after playing in so much of dirt, Samar or Ranbeer Kapoor did not show a sign of remorse or guilt in the last scenes.

Anyways.

Finally I made this journey. Actually, ‘finally’ is not an appropriate word to use here. It wasn’t something I was looking so much forward to. After staying in hills for almost a year and travelling by road under the sedative effect of mountain sickness tablets, I do not feel keen for any road trip unless it is bike or the destination promises some wonder of the world.

My parents came here with the expectation that I am one of those good sons (read श्रवण कुमार) who considers it his most important duty of life to take his parents to the pilgrimage spots of the world. So they came here to see चार धाम of Uttarakhand in a span of 10 days. They forgot their age and weight and the fact that the roads to these 4 places are not straight but serpentine ones, and most importantly the fact that I am not one of those good sons! I felt bad to disappoint them. But I took them to Badrinath – one of the 4 sacred places for Hindus.

In the temple, we had do the दर्शन which I wasn’t so much interested in, but my mom was, in fact most interested in! My parents wanted a quick peek at the God’s statues. I never wanted to be part of that dirty game of shortcut to god, but looking at their old weak legs and their insistence I had to pull some strings. I detested every single second of that time from the moment I started making arrangements for back door entry to main temple to the time we were out. The main queue outside the temple consisted of the common people, who either had no extra money or power for back door entry or no intention to catch a glimpse of god through these ways.

I entered through the other door. Here I saw a secondary queue. It was quite visible that these people knew the power of money. I felt a storm of questions in my head to justify or reject my presence in that area. The people here were a mixed lot – south Indians-north Indians, east Indians-west Indians, white Indians-black Indians, young Indians-old Indians – in short all Indians. They all had many similarities. They made every possible attempt to gain a spot inside the temple that can offer the closest and most direct view of the deity. My mom was shouting to inform me that she had obtained one such spot and that I should come to her to seek ‘direct’ blessings of the god. Now I shouted back through eyes and signals to tell her to close her eyes and fold her hands and try to see Lord Badri inside her heart if she could. In fact, people did not mind trampling others in the process. Every body was trying to ensure that his/her family should get those direct blessings, let the rest of the world die! I felt quite surprised to see this at the most revered place in the world for Hindus. I could not understand that now, that they are so close to that thing which they call ‘God’, why don’t they close their eyes while standing at any place in the premises of temple, and try to feel the God’s presence. Forget Hindus, forget Indians, forget family etc. Does not a man’s worshiping god mean to achieve God, to establish a dialogue with God, to be one with God? I did not see this in even one person. Priests were giving the blessing – ‘your business should flourish’, ‘your family should stay happy’, ‘you should have joy and prosperity’, ‘you will get money’, ‘you should get good health’. I did not hear any one saying – ‘may your heart fills with kindness and love and forgiveness for all beings’, ‘may you feel oneness with the world and the God’, ‘May you get rid of all such things as greed or anger or laziness’. People’s desires and priests’ blessings were all so narrow and focused to the family of person, that even at Badrinath, there’s no one to guide people the way Kabir, or Meera, or Mother Teresa did through their lives. What sort of भक्ति is this that is devoid of ममता, प्रेम, and स्नेह? Various Hindi news papers call these people श्रध्हालू and तीर्थ यात्री and describe all this as if this is some journey to heaven. But when people are pushing each other, shouting at each other, there’s no love or kindness and without these, can there be a prayer?

The only people who I thought were doing real worship here, were a couple of young men who were distributing free coffee and sweets in the cold night to any one who would pass by. Off late, I find no better way of praying than serving. And now all those ‘pilgrims’ who were enjoying this free coffee were littering around with the coffee cups. All the way on National Highway to Badrinath, I found every one throwing plastic and trash so mercilessly on road that I was wondering what पुण्य are these people going to earn at Badrinath when they spoil the mother earth this way. Every throw of plastic would give a severe blow to heart and somehow I managed to control myself. What right these people from rest of India have to come to hills and spoil the place and begin the process of converting the place into a trash bag that are coming from? All these rich and powerful people wearing Armani shades, are they not cultured enough to have the least civil sense?

I have this curiosity now that why temples have a deity in a closed and badly spaced room. I suggest that we erect a single huge statue of god placed at a height or in a large space and statue be placed in an open space protected by barricades. No one should be allowed to come close anywhere in the 5 kms radius of the statue. Statue should be so huge that it is visible from distance. This way, there will be no secondary queues for close glimpse of God. Anyone will be able to see it. Then give the challenge to people to now feel God from wherever they are standing and viewing the God.

Having said all this, I am glad that I could do one thing that did not displease my parents but made them immensely happy. When my mom told that she forgot all her tiredness or cold or hunger when she finally saw the statues with closest proximity and when the priest placed his hand on her head while blessing, I said to myself, ‘fine yaar, you got your god, I am yet to find mine, I hope I do this sometime’

I was going to Maddi Lala’s shop for some toiletries. On the way, first I saw the family with 3 little sons. Two of them playing, and the eldest one – 8 year old, breaking stones. First comment in head was of course the clichéd child labor pity – poor kid, he should be playing, he is breaking stones with hammers. I did not click his picture. I guess we have seen enough of pictures/videos/stories on this, and there’s no need to expose the plight of these children any more to establish that child labor is pretty much prevalent in India. In a while, his dad arrived. I did not act like an NGO guy, by telling that what the hell was he doing, his son was not supposed to do the labor etc etc. Rather, I casually and curiously enquired, “school ni jaainch” (Did the children not go to school today?).

He replied, “nai saab jaate hai school, ab pahunche thodi der pehle”. I was wondering what else the child could do now in the village in this period after school. This is one of the poorest families I have ever seen. Asking the children to read something after school would have been too much of a demand. Parents have do not have education or enthusiasm to sit with their kids with books. The children can’t really play all the time after school. It was tough to conclude if it was really child labor. His dad would earn some money by selling those stones. Who knows how much of that money will be used in alcohol and how much in buying even a candy (forget clothes etc.) for the kid? Of course this scene was running totally counter to the Child Protection that our NGO focuses on. On one hand, child could hit his hand anytime with hammer and stones. On the other hand, the child might be experienced enough by now to carry this task seamlessly without any danger.
With these thoughts I reached Maddi Lala’s shop some 10 metres away. There a very young boy was sipping tea and having a cream roll. He was taking lunch-break from his tasks of walking all day selling saree and rugs. The conversation went like this:

“Kahan rehte ho tum”
“Mehelchori”
“subha khane ka kya karte ho”
“subha kaun banaaye.. subha kuch nahi karte”
“subha khaana khaate hi nahi ho”
“na”
“aise hi nikal padte ho..? fir saare din kya karte ho?”
“aise hi samaan bechte hain ghar ghar mein”
“paidal chalte ho saare din?”
“haan”
“fir yahan kisi dukaan pe chaay pee lete ho, hain? Raat ko khaate ho?”
“haan haan”
“hotel main?”
“na na, raat ko pakate hain to, kamre pe”
“umr kitn hai tumhari?”
“16 saal”
“kab se kar rahe ho yeh?”
“ho gaye 3-4 saal”
“gaon kahan hai tumhara?”
“muzaffar nagar”
“ghar mein aur bhai behen bhi hain”
“haan haan, sab hai to, sab mazdoori dhyadi karte hain”
“school… kahan tak padhe?”
Laughs, “ZERO”
“hain?”
“school mein padha hi nahi kabhi.. ghar mein khoob koshish ki padhaane ki, main school se bhaag jata tha.. man nahi lagta tha school.. padhai mein”

Now I was speechless for sometime. I understand that this boy started the work at the age of around 13. He has never been to school and had no interest either. Who is responsible for this ‘child labor’? Is it the boring school that could not entice him to education? But then many other would have studied in the same school. Is it the parents, who could not engage him in something else at home, where he could have at least gotten two times meal? What could parents possibly do in family of 7 children, who are currently pooling in money at home, may be for sisters’ wedding or household expenses. Parents do not work, this boy told me. I can’t figure out what sustainable help can be extended to make this boy’s life better. Does he himself feel that his life needs to be bettered? In the small conversation I had with him, he never sounded complaining. If this labor is taken away from away from him, what will he do? I guess if there’s something that one can do for him, then it would be making him have breakfast somehow. Either he himself prepares or buys. He carries that heavy sack of rug on his back all day walking up and down hill. He might end up becoming anemic. Now I might be accused of underestimating the boy. And on the top of that, if he gets into alcohol/smoking (in case he hasn’t already), then that will complete the damage.