2009 was a good year. I went on two maha yatras: Spain and France in May and Ladakh in September, besides going to Aurangabad and Lonar during the Diwali holidays. Academically, it has been a taking it easy year: No Conferences and no research papers, yet an enjoyable year on the whole. Also, started this blog which is just a collection of random notes, more for myself and less intended for any readership. Not that there is any. I happily bid adieu to 2009. For the coming year, for the first time in my life, I make some resolutions.
In random order of importance:
1. Not sleep till late on non-working days.
2. Exercise more and remain healthy.
3. Cook and clean more often.
4. Write at least one blog-post per week.
5. Be more tolerant of fools.
6. Not waste time on the net.
7. Be more organized.
8. Actually start keeping promises to friends about meeting up on Fridays.
9. Learn a new skill, language and software.
10. Be nice to people.
In short, I have decided to improve. Amen.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Sangria at Christmas
Christmas celebrations started in advance. Two days back, J brought a home-made cake and later, we participated in a naive but very jolly programme in the college. Although, we are still awaiting the goodies from the neighbours, the yule tide is very much around us.
Today, on the Christmas day, after a long while, got to spend a quiet holiday at home with the husband. Our spirits were high with the prospect of one week of domestic bliss and to raise them further, we decided to celebrate by making Sangria- a Spanish cocktail like a fruit punch. Sangria comes from 'Sang Real' or Royal Blood, an allusion to Jesus and Mary, so appropriate for the festive season.
Here's how to make it:
Take a large glass jug. throw in a pinch of sugar to start with. Squeeze in one lemon and two oranges. That is, cut them in halves, de-seed and then using the palm, squeeze the juice out of them directly in the jug. Throw in some slices of pear, peach, kiwi fruit- whatever you have -plus slices of orange and lemon. Add some white rum and a small bottle of red wine. Let the mixture marinade for a few hours in the fridge. When ready to drink, take the jug out, top it with lots of ice and chilled soda and give it a good stir. Pour out in tall glasses and enjoy with friends.
No friends were around, the two of us emptied the jug ourselves. Hic!
Today, on the Christmas day, after a long while, got to spend a quiet holiday at home with the husband. Our spirits were high with the prospect of one week of domestic bliss and to raise them further, we decided to celebrate by making Sangria- a Spanish cocktail like a fruit punch. Sangria comes from 'Sang Real' or Royal Blood, an allusion to Jesus and Mary, so appropriate for the festive season.
Here's how to make it:
Take a large glass jug. throw in a pinch of sugar to start with. Squeeze in one lemon and two oranges. That is, cut them in halves, de-seed and then using the palm, squeeze the juice out of them directly in the jug. Throw in some slices of pear, peach, kiwi fruit- whatever you have -plus slices of orange and lemon. Add some white rum and a small bottle of red wine. Let the mixture marinade for a few hours in the fridge. When ready to drink, take the jug out, top it with lots of ice and chilled soda and give it a good stir. Pour out in tall glasses and enjoy with friends.
No friends were around, the two of us emptied the jug ourselves. Hic!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Getting Drunk on Pineapple Banana Curry
I have a continuous love affair with Malayali food that began in 1992 when I joined PiCA as a founding faculty. There was a sudden explosion of Malayali people in my life- colleagues, neighbours, students and now former students.
A traditional Onam meal, for instance, was a revelation of entirely new flavours and combinations. I was also struck by the sheer number of items served on the Banana leaf. Over the years, I have become adept at eating from a banana leaf- including Payasam which tastes much better that way as it absorbs the aroma of the leaf and mingles with the remnants of previous curries. I have also learnt the trick of crushing ripe banana and papadam into hot payasam while scooping it up with fingers. After such a meal, only thing to do is go to sleep and dream of being in heaven. Surprisingly, upon waking up, you again feel quite light as the ingredients don’t sit heavy on the stomach.
I try my hand sometimes in rustling up a quasi-Kerala meal. I particularly relish combining the flavours of kadi patta and adrak with coconut milk. Today I made the ‘Pineapple banana curry’- a recipe I had picked up from the Jamie Oliver show- my all time favourite on the tele. It is so simple and quick to make and the result is absolutely lip smacking.
Here’s the recipe:
Heat oil in a pan and crackle some mustard seeds. Add hing, thinly chopped adrak (a lot of it), a couple of green chillies, kadi patta and sauté for a minute. Dice up one medium sized pineapple and add to above and saute for 5-7 minutes. Add chunks of banana, mirchi powder and roasted jeera powder. Mix everything and saute for a minute. Finally add coconut milk and simmer for 5-7 minutes. Garnish with coriander if prefer.
The sweet- sour combination is so unique. The trick is to choose a tender pineapple whose pith is not very hard and one that is properly ripe and juicy; and bananas (ordinary, not elaichi) that are firm and not squishy. Packaged coconut milk is freely available which makes this dish very easy and quick to cook.
As accompaniment, I made pumpkin pachadi which is also very easy to make. Choose golden ripe pumpkin and grate it fine. Lightly steam- this is important- as should cook but still retain some bite. After cooling it a bit, add beaten curd and salt. Temper with tadka of oil, mustard and jeera, hing, grated adrak, slit chillies and torn up kadi patta. This tampering works with many other things also as the oil gets flavoured with green chillies and kadi patta. I can’t eat chillies as I find them too hot to handle but love it’s flavour. I also prefer the popatiya green variety as it is less hot and more flavourful.
For desert, I mixed ripe, sweet papaya and firm banana tossed with some lemon juice and topped with sour cream. Sour, not sweet. And lemon juice is very important as it so totally combines with papaya.
To wash down all this, the only thing to do was to open the Rhododendron wine bottle which we had picked up from Manali a few months back.
I had really really hectic last two weeks. Cooking this meal was so soothing for the nerves. Wolfing it down had such happy heady feeling. My head was swimming- I don’t know whether that was the wine or the curry.
A traditional Onam meal, for instance, was a revelation of entirely new flavours and combinations. I was also struck by the sheer number of items served on the Banana leaf. Over the years, I have become adept at eating from a banana leaf- including Payasam which tastes much better that way as it absorbs the aroma of the leaf and mingles with the remnants of previous curries. I have also learnt the trick of crushing ripe banana and papadam into hot payasam while scooping it up with fingers. After such a meal, only thing to do is go to sleep and dream of being in heaven. Surprisingly, upon waking up, you again feel quite light as the ingredients don’t sit heavy on the stomach.
I try my hand sometimes in rustling up a quasi-Kerala meal. I particularly relish combining the flavours of kadi patta and adrak with coconut milk. Today I made the ‘Pineapple banana curry’- a recipe I had picked up from the Jamie Oliver show- my all time favourite on the tele. It is so simple and quick to make and the result is absolutely lip smacking.
Here’s the recipe:
Heat oil in a pan and crackle some mustard seeds. Add hing, thinly chopped adrak (a lot of it), a couple of green chillies, kadi patta and sauté for a minute. Dice up one medium sized pineapple and add to above and saute for 5-7 minutes. Add chunks of banana, mirchi powder and roasted jeera powder. Mix everything and saute for a minute. Finally add coconut milk and simmer for 5-7 minutes. Garnish with coriander if prefer.
The sweet- sour combination is so unique. The trick is to choose a tender pineapple whose pith is not very hard and one that is properly ripe and juicy; and bananas (ordinary, not elaichi) that are firm and not squishy. Packaged coconut milk is freely available which makes this dish very easy and quick to cook.
As accompaniment, I made pumpkin pachadi which is also very easy to make. Choose golden ripe pumpkin and grate it fine. Lightly steam- this is important- as should cook but still retain some bite. After cooling it a bit, add beaten curd and salt. Temper with tadka of oil, mustard and jeera, hing, grated adrak, slit chillies and torn up kadi patta. This tampering works with many other things also as the oil gets flavoured with green chillies and kadi patta. I can’t eat chillies as I find them too hot to handle but love it’s flavour. I also prefer the popatiya green variety as it is less hot and more flavourful.
For desert, I mixed ripe, sweet papaya and firm banana tossed with some lemon juice and topped with sour cream. Sour, not sweet. And lemon juice is very important as it so totally combines with papaya.
To wash down all this, the only thing to do was to open the Rhododendron wine bottle which we had picked up from Manali a few months back.
I had really really hectic last two weeks. Cooking this meal was so soothing for the nerves. Wolfing it down had such happy heady feeling. My head was swimming- I don’t know whether that was the wine or the curry.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sign Language
The language row in Mumbai, the Hindi v/s Marathi argument, came to a head when MNS MLAs slapped Abu Azmi for taking his oath as a member of the Maharashtra Assembly in Hindi. This action was lauded by many Marathi speakers judging by comments on the websites of Marathi dailies. This by itself is not surprising given the sustained propaganda for over a year. What is surprising is the approval of many Tamil and Kannada bloggers- some partisan to begin with and some others who are otherwise normal, funny or learned suddenly discovering their brothers-in-arm Hindi haters. Are they, in trying to justify this, finding reason for their own stated or latent grouses?
The foremost is Hindi hegemony or Hindi arrogance, that Hindiwallas expect others to learn Hindi by falsely claiming it as THE National Language. So they refuse to learn other languages. India is multi-lingual in character and Hindi is one more language among many. The Hindiwallahs expect the shopkeepers and auto-drivers in Chennai to speak in Hindi. Now, while most non-Hindi people have experienced this arrogance; let it be known that the Hindi arrogance is not exclusive to Hindiwallas. Equally, Gujaratis, Bangalis and indeed Marathis expect the auto-driver in Chennai to understand them in Hindi.
The other argument is that the local language should have primacy over the others, that all outsiders should respect it and learn it. Nothing wrong here, except that these bloggers who are writing from Bangalore/ Chennai/ and mostly USA don’t realize that when it comes to Mumbai, Marathi is NOT the only local language. If India is multi-lingual, then Mumbai is its microcosm. Traveling in Bombay’s local trains, you would hear many of these tongues. The language of public communication and discourse is a mix of Hindi and English. This is how it has been always and most Mumbaikars don’t see what’s wrong with it. It is very common here to find two Gujaratis, two Malayalis or even two Marathis speak with each other in Hindi and English. In this sense, I feel that Bombay (unlike Delhi where it is local) is the only place where Hindi is spoken as the national language. Nobody has imposed Hindi here. Mumbai has no reason to despise it; after all it is the home of Hindi Film Industry. Many non-Marathis in Mumbai such as me are well versed in Marathi not because we ‘respect’ it, simply because we have friends and enjoy its cinema, theatre and culture. Many are not.
The Marathi v/s Hindi battle, linguistically, is artificial as they belong to the same family. Every urban Marathi perfectly understands Hindi and speaks it fairly well without having to specially learn it. Moreover, both are written in the Devanagari script, making them even more similar. This knowledge of Hindi is the Marathi man’s strength as he can do business with a number of other linguistic groups in the country.
It is ridiculous to compare Mumbai with Chennai or Marathi with Tamil. In the 1950s, probably there was validity in the anti-Hindi sentiments in the South. In 2009, such chauvinism is dated and self defeating. The shopkeeper or auto-driver in Chennai does not gain anything (only looses business) by pretending not to know Hindi. Mumbai can well do without the misplaced concerns of misguided 'Madrasis'.
As for the Marathi speakers, they might do well to remember that all of Bombay’s populations, including most Marathis, are migrants except for the Kolis and the Agris (fisherfolks and salt makers). Bombay’s mosaic of sub-cultures was formed well before it became the capital of Maharashtra. They should try to see through the propaganda by which their sentiments are exploited for political games. Instead, they should devise innovative ways of making their earthy and rich language more popular and fashionable among non Marathi speakers. This should not be a tall order given inherent talents of Marathi writers, film makers and musicians.
As for the political goons, they only do disservice to Marathi when they violently try to foist it on people. It is so ironic, for instance, their insistence on Marathi sign boards. They forget that Marathi is written in Devnagri- same as Hindi. The train commuters witness this oddity on the station name boards daily. As can be seen below.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Things that Annoy Me
1. This street dog who thinks that the landing in front of my door is his private potty.
2. People in the neighbourhood who insist on reversing their cars with horrible tunes at ungodly hours.
3. People who think that their kids are God’s gift to humanity and don’t think it necessary to teach them some humility.
4. Relatives who look me over as if I was something that the cat brought home.
5. People who think that laptops are some new age radios and have never heard of ear-phones.
6. People who flood my inbox with ‘invites’ to join Facebook or to view their photos.
7. Passengers on trains who insist on talking loudly on their cell phones and if not, listening to ‘music’ without ear-phones.
8. New Bombay train stations that don’t think it necessary to have indicators on the path leading up to the platforms and mostly, not even on the platforms.
9. Idiots who thought of installing metal detectors blocking the smooth exit at the VT station. And even bigger idiots who write letters to the news-papers complaining that they are out of order, or if not, how the beeps go unchecked and the security is so lax.
10. Panvel auto-rickshaw drivers who think it is their birthright to fleece passengers; and the dumb people who don’t protest.
11. People who spit from their car widows, train windows, windows from the upper deck of a bus, while walking on crowded platforms, streets unmindful of people just behind/below them
12. Characters in TV serials who speak in faux-Gujju accent.
13. News readers on NDTV who think their drawl is oh! so fashionable.
14. Cookery programmes on TV by Indian chefs- I mean they actually succeed in making the act of cooking, that too Indian cooking, totally sterile and unexciting. As if that was not enough- there is always a dumb looking anchor who insists on repeating every explanation. And at this stage, if you think that they can’t do anything more to insult your intelligence- they give you a quick recap. Jeez.
15. Hindustan Times for believing that the traffic police’s job is to arrest pedestrians and not to control traffic.
16. Motorists who think that the roads were made for the sole purpose of double-parking.
17. People who are behind me in the queue at the bank counter, who can’t stand patiently in a single file, insisting on stepping on the side. Not that they want to jump the line or dare to. They just think that being closer to the window will make things faster.
18. Bollywood film makers who make dumb films just because the NRI audiences lap them up.
19. NRIs who write letters via e-mail to India Today and Outlook- lecturing all and sundry on how to run the country.
20. The Indian middle class who think that it is the mission of the rest of the world to prevent India from becoming a super-power.
Friday, October 30, 2009
The Lonar Crater Lake- October 2009
It’s a miracle that I found myself gaping at this most incredible scene at 7.30 in the morning, almost 550 km away from home, in a place called Lonar that I had heard about, yet never made any plans to visit. In fact, none of my co-travellers had, either.
The decision to go there was made on a whim while eating breakfast in the artillery mess of Aurangabad. We landed there next morning, having hit the road at 4.00 in the morning. We were all bleary eyed as none of us had slept the previous night and without knowing what to expect as we had not made any previous study of the place. We were struck dumb by the sheer scale of this cosmic phenomenon when we realized that we were standing on a rim of a vast crater created due to a meteoric impact about 50,000 years ago. In the early morning light, the lake at the base and the thick vegetation on the crater wall seemed to resonate with the echoes of the past eons.
Lonar, situated about 140km from Aurangabad in Maharashtra, is the rarest of the rare geological site- a 1.8 km in diameter crater formed due to the impact of a 50m meteorite- the 3rd largest of its kind and the oldest. Its depth is about 170 m, the base of which is a saline lake with a pH of more than 10.
The decision to go there was made on a whim while eating breakfast in the artillery mess of Aurangabad. We landed there next morning, having hit the road at 4.00 in the morning. We were all bleary eyed as none of us had slept the previous night and without knowing what to expect as we had not made any previous study of the place. We were struck dumb by the sheer scale of this cosmic phenomenon when we realized that we were standing on a rim of a vast crater created due to a meteoric impact about 50,000 years ago. In the early morning light, the lake at the base and the thick vegetation on the crater wall seemed to resonate with the echoes of the past eons.
To think that I almost did not go on this trip, made all sorts of excuses to three intrepid students who wanted me to join them on their sojourn to Ajanta and Ellora. Even after reaching Aurangabad, I was wondering why I was there for the umpteenth time. Of course, the rock cut marvels still reveal some new insights every time I visit them. It was almost a chance that one of them said let’s go to Lonar. Everyone was excited by the idea. I was instantly reminded of Shekhar Gupta’s recent article- “Maha Crater” in the Indian Express. While reading it, I had mildly felt ashamed of myself for not visiting Lonar despite of going to Aurangabad so many times. Call it miracle or serendipity- there I was within less than a week.
Lonar, situated about 140km from Aurangabad in Maharashtra, is the rarest of the rare geological site- a 1.8 km in diameter crater formed due to the impact of a 50m meteorite- the 3rd largest of its kind and the oldest. Its depth is about 170 m, the base of which is a saline lake with a pH of more than 10.
http://www.khagolmandal.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4&Itemid=6
The lake, the surrounding forest on the crater walls and the rim constitute a unique eco-system home to several animal and bird species and colonies of bacteria and algae that border in colorful bands the water edge. There are steps that took us down on a steep slope towards the base, encountering a couple of ancient stone temples and their remains.
We walked about four km upto the 'Sita Nahani' temple where preparation was on for cooking a feast for the devotees. We collected some samples of what we thought were the remnants of the cosmic impact, sorely missing a site museum or an information centre. 
Later, we made our way to the 'Daityasudana' temple- a Vishnu temple built by the Deogiri Yadavas in the 12th century. The temple has stylistic traces from the Hoysala and Khajuraho temples and boasts of beautiful sculpture on its walls. We had our siesta in the temple mandapa- biding our time till the sunset.
In the evening, we visited another temple of note, the 'Gomukh' temple well-known for its water source, kund and the ghats- a very popular place for the devotees who believe that taking a dip in its waters would wash away all their sins.
Earlier, we had gone to the MTDC resort for breakfast. Shekhar Gupta has used very mild language to describe its horrors. In a way, the sorry state of the MTDC ‘resort’, a complete lack of awareness and information about this potentially loaded site, it’s deterioration due to garbage thrown by the devotees and soap and detergent laced outflow from the Gomukh temple in which the devotees bathe and wash clothes- this monumental negligence is symptomatic of the condition of Maharashtra politics.
We walked about four km upto the 'Sita Nahani' temple where preparation was on for cooking a feast for the devotees. We collected some samples of what we thought were the remnants of the cosmic impact, sorely missing a site museum or an information centre. Later, we made our way to the 'Daityasudana' temple- a Vishnu temple built by the Deogiri Yadavas in the 12th century. The temple has stylistic traces from the Hoysala and Khajuraho temples and boasts of beautiful sculpture on its walls. We had our siesta in the temple mandapa- biding our time till the sunset.
In the evening, we visited another temple of note, the 'Gomukh' temple well-known for its water source, kund and the ghats- a very popular place for the devotees who believe that taking a dip in its waters would wash away all their sins.Earlier, we had gone to the MTDC resort for breakfast. Shekhar Gupta has used very mild language to describe its horrors. In a way, the sorry state of the MTDC ‘resort’, a complete lack of awareness and information about this potentially loaded site, it’s deterioration due to garbage thrown by the devotees and soap and detergent laced outflow from the Gomukh temple in which the devotees bathe and wash clothes- this monumental negligence is symptomatic of the condition of Maharashtra politics.
It was hard not to feel despondent and yet, the greatest reward of going to Lonar was awaiting me. It was in the form of the most spectacular sunset over the opposite end of the crater rim- of a kind I had never seen before. I came away totally grateful.
Travel and Photography
After seemingly endless dithering, I have finally brought myself to start a thread on travelogue to cover my two greatest passions- travel and photography. I love to travel and mostly do photography only while travelling. And I have travelled a lot- enough to fill pages after pages- if only I could shake out of lethargy. So here it goes...
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Why Symbols are so Essential in Elections
Panvel assembly constituency in Maharashtra is probably quite unlike any other. For years, there have been two main political parties slugging out the electoral battle: The Congress and the PWP- Peasants and Workers Party- or Shetkari Kamgar Paksha, a left-wing party. The situation is same even today despite of so many other players who have entered and even conquered the scene elsewhere.
In the 1998 and 1999 general election, Ramshet Thakur from the PWP was elected in the Loksabha. Subsequently, he joined Congress and has been a leading light in Panvel, including getting his son Prashant Thakur elected as the President of the Panvel Nagar Parishad.
This same Prashant Thakur is the Congress- NCP candidate for the Assembly this time around. The PWP has fielded Balaram Dattatrey Patil and he is supported by the BJP-SS combine, who don't have a candidate of their own and have found a bedfellow in a left-wing party. Most people had no idea about who else was in the fray. The 'MNS factor' is over-rated outside big cities in any case.
Today, on the voting day, when presented with the ballot paper, we couldn't believe our eyes. We found that our reading faculties had taken our leave and we had to actually look at the next column of symbols to identify the persons. We were in the same league with our anguthachhap brethren.
Don't believe? Well, the ballot paper listed people such as:
(If you were looking for the Congress candidate):
Thakur Prashat Tukaram
Prashant Ramshet Thakur
Ramshet Thakur
(If you were looking for the PWP candidate):
Balaram Dattatrey Patil
Patil Balaram Gajanan
Patil Balaram Jayram
Patil Balaram Dattushet
Patil Balaram Namdev
Patil Balushet
No kidding! Without consulting the adjoining symbol, who would be able to identify their candidate of choice?
However, one name stood out though in this medley of real people and imposters. That was one Raghunath Nayar, with a symbol of very appropriate one and a half coconut. I won't be surprised if he walks away with a couple of thousand votes.
In the 1998 and 1999 general election, Ramshet Thakur from the PWP was elected in the Loksabha. Subsequently, he joined Congress and has been a leading light in Panvel, including getting his son Prashant Thakur elected as the President of the Panvel Nagar Parishad.
This same Prashant Thakur is the Congress- NCP candidate for the Assembly this time around. The PWP has fielded Balaram Dattatrey Patil and he is supported by the BJP-SS combine, who don't have a candidate of their own and have found a bedfellow in a left-wing party. Most people had no idea about who else was in the fray. The 'MNS factor' is over-rated outside big cities in any case.
Today, on the voting day, when presented with the ballot paper, we couldn't believe our eyes. We found that our reading faculties had taken our leave and we had to actually look at the next column of symbols to identify the persons. We were in the same league with our anguthachhap brethren.
Don't believe? Well, the ballot paper listed people such as:
(If you were looking for the Congress candidate):
Thakur Prashat Tukaram
Prashant Ramshet Thakur
Ramshet Thakur
(If you were looking for the PWP candidate):
Balaram Dattatrey Patil
Patil Balaram Gajanan
Patil Balaram Jayram
Patil Balaram Dattushet
Patil Balaram Namdev
Patil Balushet
No kidding! Without consulting the adjoining symbol, who would be able to identify their candidate of choice?
However, one name stood out though in this medley of real people and imposters. That was one Raghunath Nayar, with a symbol of very appropriate one and a half coconut. I won't be surprised if he walks away with a couple of thousand votes.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Austerity Overkill
Here is one more expert comment on the austerity overdrive as if all that can be said is not already been said twice over. Yah! we are repeatedly told (it's so complex, no) by the 'expert' news anchors and columnists (mostly the same people) that our netas flying the cattle class is not going to solve the problem of drought.
What drought? What do we know about this drought- frought? There is nothing on any news channel/ panel discussions/ national news papers/ editorials/ cartoons on this drought. There is nothing in our lifestyle as yet to suggest it's existence or onset. So dear Burkha Dutts and Arnob Goswamis and Vir Sanghvis et al why not stop blabbering about and make news programmes about this 'real issue'? Please tell us with your detailed analysis as to what is the status regarding this drought and how we ought to be prepared to face it.
I have a feeling that the zeal to ridicule the austerity drive is not just arithmetics of how much it costs to be austere. It is also partly due to doubts about our own lifestyles and values, and contradictions within. It is partly due to a belief that exposing the hypocrisy of the netas will mask our own.
The fact is that simplicity has never been a virtue in our society. Display of wealth, living beyond the means is normal and moreover linked to status. Anybody living under the means is considered a kanjoos. Lavish weddings and celebrations, wearing heaps of ornaments of gold and diamond, living in overdecorated houses- and much more that advertises the status- is considered normal social behaviour. Showing sympathy for the poor, specially in troubled times is not what we do. We may donate money and stuff but live simply for its own sake? No body wants to change their lifestyle just because there is a fucking drought somewhere. (who knows where?)
Simplicity and austerity is not to be espoused but suspected in our society.
What drought? What do we know about this drought- frought? There is nothing on any news channel/ panel discussions/ national news papers/ editorials/ cartoons on this drought. There is nothing in our lifestyle as yet to suggest it's existence or onset. So dear Burkha Dutts and Arnob Goswamis and Vir Sanghvis et al why not stop blabbering about and make news programmes about this 'real issue'? Please tell us with your detailed analysis as to what is the status regarding this drought and how we ought to be prepared to face it.
I have a feeling that the zeal to ridicule the austerity drive is not just arithmetics of how much it costs to be austere. It is also partly due to doubts about our own lifestyles and values, and contradictions within. It is partly due to a belief that exposing the hypocrisy of the netas will mask our own.
The fact is that simplicity has never been a virtue in our society. Display of wealth, living beyond the means is normal and moreover linked to status. Anybody living under the means is considered a kanjoos. Lavish weddings and celebrations, wearing heaps of ornaments of gold and diamond, living in overdecorated houses- and much more that advertises the status- is considered normal social behaviour. Showing sympathy for the poor, specially in troubled times is not what we do. We may donate money and stuff but live simply for its own sake? No body wants to change their lifestyle just because there is a fucking drought somewhere. (who knows where?)
Simplicity and austerity is not to be espoused but suspected in our society.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
My Home Workspace
This post is inspired by reading a similar post by a friend. He has posted pictures of his home workspace and described it. The description is as meticulous and tidy as the workspace.
My workspace at home, which is a 12 feet long ledge, two revolving chairs, a wall on which the ledge is supported and a window niche in it. It is anything but tidy at most of the times. Right now, the inventory reads like (from left to right)
An empty gift box on which are piled assorted papers, spectacle wipe, plastic pack of my new Kodak battery charger
Several writing pads, scribbled notes, bills, telephone diaries, pencil boxes, photo albums, books, and cobwebs on the window ledge.
Coming back to the ledge itself: medicine pouch, torch, hand sanitiser, telephone, scissors, 5 assorted battery chargers, 3 digital cameras, two laptops, power cords of 2 cameras, several cables emanating from the laptop, external hard disc, modem, printer and scanner, one functioning mouse, one non-functioning mouse, 1 laptop cleaning kit, one rag to clean the ledge. (btw, the rag is clean, ledge is not).
On the wall are 3 framed print posters by FLW, Warhol and Lichtenstein and a tube-light.
Coming back to the ledge again: the remaining items are a couple of books, a box of slides which I am scanning for last 6 months, sun-screen lotion and a trophy.
Coming to the chairs: on one of them, I am seated and on the other is hung semi dried laundry.
Phew! I bet, no one wants to see a picture of this mess.
My workspace at home, which is a 12 feet long ledge, two revolving chairs, a wall on which the ledge is supported and a window niche in it. It is anything but tidy at most of the times. Right now, the inventory reads like (from left to right)
An empty gift box on which are piled assorted papers, spectacle wipe, plastic pack of my new Kodak battery charger
Several writing pads, scribbled notes, bills, telephone diaries, pencil boxes, photo albums, books, and cobwebs on the window ledge.
Coming back to the ledge itself: medicine pouch, torch, hand sanitiser, telephone, scissors, 5 assorted battery chargers, 3 digital cameras, two laptops, power cords of 2 cameras, several cables emanating from the laptop, external hard disc, modem, printer and scanner, one functioning mouse, one non-functioning mouse, 1 laptop cleaning kit, one rag to clean the ledge. (btw, the rag is clean, ledge is not).
On the wall are 3 framed print posters by FLW, Warhol and Lichtenstein and a tube-light.
Coming back to the ledge again: the remaining items are a couple of books, a box of slides which I am scanning for last 6 months, sun-screen lotion and a trophy.
Coming to the chairs: on one of them, I am seated and on the other is hung semi dried laundry.
Phew! I bet, no one wants to see a picture of this mess.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Pedestrain Concerns
It is so ironic that the most logical and common sense suggestions for Mumbai’s future came from a developer in a panel discussion on Mumbai’s proposed development plan, during a recently held workshop by the UDRI. The remaining panelists- Municipal commissioner, former chief planner, prominent city architect and urban activist could only come up with obfuscation of needs and apologies for why it’s not possible to have them fulfilled.
Mr. Hiranandani, the developer, in a clear and lucid speech stated the priorities:
1. A Metro system that criss-crosses the entire city.
2. More and better roads for busses and taxis.
3. Good footpaths and better walking conditions with better pedestrian environments.
4. Discourage privately owned vehicles.
He said that Bombay can sustain its growth and increasing densities if the above is done on a priority basis. In fact, Higher and concentrated densities justify the above infrastructure and make it cost effective. He gave example of Manhattan where the costliest of the apartments come with ZERO parking facility.
I whole heartedly agree with him. Two years back, I spent five days walking up and down almost half of Manhattan. It has similar population density and commuter load as that of Bombay. The Metro, with several lines criss-crosses and disperses and distributes this load effectively. No matter where you are, you are within 7-8 minutes walking distance to a nearby metro station. Every street junction has traffic and pedestrian signals and of course zebra crossings. So many people just walk. Some ride their bicycles and many hail a passing cab which is always available. What they call traffic jams is nothing but slow (but steady) moving traffic due to signals. This slow moving traffic actually enables riding a bicycle. In addition to the metro is a bus system which is equally prolific.
If you are the car-owning type, you need to rent a garage as there is no privilege parking. If you need to park your car, there is limited street side public parking (which is about $2-3 for half an hour). This is so limited in quantity that you will have no hope of getting one free lot. You can avail the services of private car parks that charge appx. $25- 50 per hour.
In short, you are discouraged from owning or bringing your car to the city and if you must, you are asked to pay for it.
This is what makes for a true city life. That the city centre is dense and compact and full of attractions and actions. That it allows negotiations within it on foot and by using public transport. That a cab can be easily hailed and a bus stop or a train stop is not very far away. That you don’t need to own a fucking car.
If one needs to own a car, then might as well live in a village. In a great city, you shouldn’t even need to have a driving license.
Mr. Hiranandani, the developer, in a clear and lucid speech stated the priorities:
1. A Metro system that criss-crosses the entire city.
2. More and better roads for busses and taxis.
3. Good footpaths and better walking conditions with better pedestrian environments.
4. Discourage privately owned vehicles.
He said that Bombay can sustain its growth and increasing densities if the above is done on a priority basis. In fact, Higher and concentrated densities justify the above infrastructure and make it cost effective. He gave example of Manhattan where the costliest of the apartments come with ZERO parking facility.
I whole heartedly agree with him. Two years back, I spent five days walking up and down almost half of Manhattan. It has similar population density and commuter load as that of Bombay. The Metro, with several lines criss-crosses and disperses and distributes this load effectively. No matter where you are, you are within 7-8 minutes walking distance to a nearby metro station. Every street junction has traffic and pedestrian signals and of course zebra crossings. So many people just walk. Some ride their bicycles and many hail a passing cab which is always available. What they call traffic jams is nothing but slow (but steady) moving traffic due to signals. This slow moving traffic actually enables riding a bicycle. In addition to the metro is a bus system which is equally prolific.
If you are the car-owning type, you need to rent a garage as there is no privilege parking. If you need to park your car, there is limited street side public parking (which is about $2-3 for half an hour). This is so limited in quantity that you will have no hope of getting one free lot. You can avail the services of private car parks that charge appx. $25- 50 per hour.
In short, you are discouraged from owning or bringing your car to the city and if you must, you are asked to pay for it.
This is what makes for a true city life. That the city centre is dense and compact and full of attractions and actions. That it allows negotiations within it on foot and by using public transport. That a cab can be easily hailed and a bus stop or a train stop is not very far away. That you don’t need to own a fucking car.
If one needs to own a car, then might as well live in a village. In a great city, you shouldn’t even need to have a driving license.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Holiday Register
“Raja no chopdo aavyo, raja no chopdo aavyo”.
“रजा नो चोप्दो आव्यो, रजा नो चोप्दो आव्यो”.
This is how mother remembers the best moment of her school days in Calcutta in the early fifties. She says, in her school, the holidays of the month were announced to the students via a fat register called ‘chopdo’ in Gujarati. A minion would bring it from the Principal’s office to the class and the teacher would read out the announcement. Now, in a school, there must be many other announcements. But, it seems that this register was exclusively for the holidays. Not surprisingly, the arrival of this ‘chopdo’ was the most welcome relief for the girls in the middle of a class. I could just guess the sentiments of delight and joyful cries as in माय school, the holidays were given as a list in the diary, the element of surprise and dramatic revelations were not for us। I never knew what it felt like.
Until yesterday. When, in the middle of my history class, our peon brought a notice and asked me to read it out to the class. Absent mindedly, I began to read. The first words out of my mouth, even before I realized their meaning were: “Holidays in September”. There was perhaps a micro second of stunned silence and then uproar.
I found myself reading a list which was seemingly unending and each item on it was greeted with delightful cries, the loudest for the last two which happen to be Mondays when I have a day long studio covering two subjects for the same class। I don’t recall ever having brought a greater cheer to my students than this।
When the uproar died down, I continued my lecture amidst a very upbeat class. However, I being me, with my wicked ways, unleashed another list at the end of the session. This list being a schedule of submissions (the dreadful stuff every Architecture student has to keep turning in to avoid being eaten alive). For sure, I did not read it out myself, asked the CR to do the honours.
Why be a villain when just a few moments back I was their hero?
“रजा नो चोप्दो आव्यो, रजा नो चोप्दो आव्यो”.
This is how mother remembers the best moment of her school days in Calcutta in the early fifties. She says, in her school, the holidays of the month were announced to the students via a fat register called ‘chopdo’ in Gujarati. A minion would bring it from the Principal’s office to the class and the teacher would read out the announcement. Now, in a school, there must be many other announcements. But, it seems that this register was exclusively for the holidays. Not surprisingly, the arrival of this ‘chopdo’ was the most welcome relief for the girls in the middle of a class. I could just guess the sentiments of delight and joyful cries as in माय school, the holidays were given as a list in the diary, the element of surprise and dramatic revelations were not for us। I never knew what it felt like.
Until yesterday. When, in the middle of my history class, our peon brought a notice and asked me to read it out to the class. Absent mindedly, I began to read. The first words out of my mouth, even before I realized their meaning were: “Holidays in September”. There was perhaps a micro second of stunned silence and then uproar.
I found myself reading a list which was seemingly unending and each item on it was greeted with delightful cries, the loudest for the last two which happen to be Mondays when I have a day long studio covering two subjects for the same class। I don’t recall ever having brought a greater cheer to my students than this।
When the uproar died down, I continued my lecture amidst a very upbeat class. However, I being me, with my wicked ways, unleashed another list at the end of the session. This list being a schedule of submissions (the dreadful stuff every Architecture student has to keep turning in to avoid being eaten alive). For sure, I did not read it out myself, asked the CR to do the honours.
Why be a villain when just a few moments back I was their hero?
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Video Parlours in a New Avatar
Last sunday, I watched "Kaminey" in a cinema opened recently in Khandeshwar. Now, this establishment which goes by the name ‘multiplex’ is really a few shop galas clubbed together and has two really tiny screens that are barely larger than the new age TVs. The hall had a seating capacity of 80 and was half full at 10pm which I am told is very good going. The ambience was cool and clean, the projection and sound quality above average. However, the experience was nowhere near watching a thriller on a single screen that looms real large in front of you, covering more than your normal cone of vision, engulfing you and 500 others who have packed the hall in a thrall as if casting a spell.
The collective experience of watching the film was perhaps more like in those places in the eighties and nineties which went by a name- ‘video parlour’. These were mostly shady places among the kind of shop galas that were covered by cement sheets and fronted by a narrow verandah in which would be placed a chalk board on a stand. Coloured chalk caligraphy announced the daily screenings of video cassettes of B and C grade Hindi films or similar regional language films.
There was one such video parlour just outside our colony and many a times I would notice this ubiquitous chalk board and its contents on my way to the station. My most favourite occasion was coming upon it with a title which went- “India win England- 6.00 pm- Rs.75”. This was of course on the morning following the semi-final of the 1983 world cup in which India against all expectations defeated England. Many people gave it a miss instead of bunking work. Somebody from the video parlour had recorded the live telecast and made most of it, selling the show more than once.
The collective experience of watching the film was perhaps more like in those places in the eighties and nineties which went by a name- ‘video parlour’. These were mostly shady places among the kind of shop galas that were covered by cement sheets and fronted by a narrow verandah in which would be placed a chalk board on a stand. Coloured chalk caligraphy announced the daily screenings of video cassettes of B and C grade Hindi films or similar regional language films.
There was one such video parlour just outside our colony and many a times I would notice this ubiquitous chalk board and its contents on my way to the station. My most favourite occasion was coming upon it with a title which went- “India win England- 6.00 pm- Rs.75”. This was of course on the morning following the semi-final of the 1983 world cup in which India against all expectations defeated England. Many people gave it a miss instead of bunking work. Somebody from the video parlour had recorded the live telecast and made most of it, selling the show more than once.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Come, Come, Advaniji!
I feel sorry for the BJP spokespersons on various TV channels having to defend someone else’s (not their party’s) indefensible position.
Why is Mr. Advani mum?
Why doesn’t the ‘Strong Leader’ come clean and clarify? Where is his eloquence, he used to be so fond of talking. For last five years, he incessantly blabbered, about non-issues mostly. He kept on describing the gentle and learned PM as nikamma. When the ‘weak’ Dr. Singh dared him to enumerate his achievements, he went into a sulk and feigned hurt. Now he is feigning amnesia.
Why is everybody chasing their own tails arguing about this? Were there no minutes of the cabinet meeting in question? Wasn’t there a written record of who was present in the meeting? Are we to believe that the home minister was absent in all these meetings?
In the aftermath of the hijack, an all-party meeting had authorized the then government to take any steps necessary to avert a tragedy. Nobody in the country had the heart to sacrifice the lives of captives on the eve of the new millennium. Everybody was relieved to see them return safely, fully and sadly aware of the price having been paid.
What is all this fuss about then?
Is it because, Mr. Advani chose to distance himself from the painful decision of a government in which he was the home minister? Did he choose to lie to appear strong?
Perhaps, Mr. Advani has never realised real strength lies in having the courage to tell the truth.
Why is Mr. Advani mum?
Why doesn’t the ‘Strong Leader’ come clean and clarify? Where is his eloquence, he used to be so fond of talking. For last five years, he incessantly blabbered, about non-issues mostly. He kept on describing the gentle and learned PM as nikamma. When the ‘weak’ Dr. Singh dared him to enumerate his achievements, he went into a sulk and feigned hurt. Now he is feigning amnesia.
Why is everybody chasing their own tails arguing about this? Were there no minutes of the cabinet meeting in question? Wasn’t there a written record of who was present in the meeting? Are we to believe that the home minister was absent in all these meetings?
In the aftermath of the hijack, an all-party meeting had authorized the then government to take any steps necessary to avert a tragedy. Nobody in the country had the heart to sacrifice the lives of captives on the eve of the new millennium. Everybody was relieved to see them return safely, fully and sadly aware of the price having been paid.
What is all this fuss about then?
Is it because, Mr. Advani chose to distance himself from the painful decision of a government in which he was the home minister? Did he choose to lie to appear strong?
Perhaps, Mr. Advani has never realised real strength lies in having the courage to tell the truth.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Berry Pulav for Pateti
At 11.30 in the morning, I entered my kitchen absent mindedly, half thinking of cooking something. Breakfast was early and not quite what is called sumptuous. Lunch time was approaching and something needed to be done.
And suddenly, I remembered two things: that today’s holiday was because of Pateti and there were some juicy, succulent mulberries in the fridge. The decision was made: shall make Berry Pulav to celebrate the Parsi New Year. Now, I have never been to Britannia which is famous for this particular dish and therefore had no idea how it looked or tasted let alone how it’s cooked. Minor matters indeed. I also had a vague idea that it contained meat. Really minor a matter in my opinion. It’s called Berry Pulav and I had Basmati and berries. Enough to start. In went some mutter, butter, cloves, elaichi, sauted mushrooms and onion in pepper, fresh basil, salt.
Lo and behold- my first berry pulav was ready. Refer to the picture below.
To contrast with its mild sweetness, I made tangy and salty cucumber salad with celery in which were added last drops of olive oil from the Eiffel Tower look- alike bottle. This is a story by itself… I was determined to purchase my own version of a hideous Eiffel Tower souvenir so that everyone who came to my house would know, you know, that I have been there. Also, it had to be unique. Run of the mill plastic replicas or key-chains would just not do. In moments of desperation, I came close to buying tower shaped pasta but wisely decided against it. Finally, I found this bottle at one of the airport shops just before boarding our flight back home.
So…how was the pulav? Quite delicious, if you ask me. Husband can vouch for it.
Friday, July 31, 2009
"A Lovely Day for Cricket"
In 1972, a calypso emerged out of Trinidad and Tobago, sung by Lord Relator, centered around Sunil Gavaskar. Look at the way he brings in the entire Indian cricket team and the lambasting his own West Indies team gets:
A Lovely Day for Cricket
Blue skies and gentle breeze
The Indians are awaiting now
To play the West Indies
A signal from the umpire
The match is going to start
The cricketers come on the field
They all look very smart ...
Erapalli Prasanna
Jeejeebhoy and Wadekar
Krishnamurthy and Vishnoo Mankad
Them boys could real play cricket
On any kinda wicket
They make the West Indies team look so bad
We was in all kinda trouble
Joey Carew pull a muscle
Clive Lloyd get 'bout three run out
We was in trouble without a doubt
It was Gavaskar
De real masterJust like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all, not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all
Ven-kat-a-ra-ghavan
Bedi, in a turbanVijay Jaisimha, Jayantilal
They help to win the series
Against the West Indies
At Sabina Park and Queen's Park Oval
A hundred and fifty-eight by Kanhai
Really sent our hopes up high
Noriega nine for ninety-five
The Indian team they still survive
It was Gavaskar
De real master
Just like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all, not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all
Govindraj and Durani
Solkar, Abid Ali
Dilip Sardesai and Viswanath
They make West Indies bowlers
Look like second raters
When those fellas came out here to bat
West Indies tried Holder and Keith Boyce
They had no other choice
They even try with Uton Dowe
But ah sure that they sorry they bring him now
It was Gavaskar
De real master
Just like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all, not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all
Little Desmond Lewis
Also Charlie Davis
Dey take a little shame from out we face
But Sobers as the captain
He want plenty coachin'
Before we cricket end up in a disgrace
Bedi hear that he became a father
So he catch out Holford in the covers
But when Sobers hear he too had a son
He make duck and went back in the pavilion
It was Gavaskar
De real master
Just like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all, not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all
...and here you can see Lord Relator perform the calypso, in an appropriately grainy video from the 1970s:
.
A Lovely Day for Cricket
Blue skies and gentle breeze
The Indians are awaiting now
To play the West Indies
A signal from the umpire
The match is going to start
The cricketers come on the field
They all look very smart ...
Erapalli Prasanna
Jeejeebhoy and Wadekar
Krishnamurthy and Vishnoo Mankad
Them boys could real play cricket
On any kinda wicket
They make the West Indies team look so bad
We was in all kinda trouble
Joey Carew pull a muscle
Clive Lloyd get 'bout three run out
We was in trouble without a doubt
It was Gavaskar
De real masterJust like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all, not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all
Ven-kat-a-ra-ghavan
Bedi, in a turbanVijay Jaisimha, Jayantilal
They help to win the series
Against the West Indies
At Sabina Park and Queen's Park Oval
A hundred and fifty-eight by Kanhai
Really sent our hopes up high
Noriega nine for ninety-five
The Indian team they still survive
It was Gavaskar
De real master
Just like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all, not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all
Govindraj and Durani
Solkar, Abid Ali
Dilip Sardesai and Viswanath
They make West Indies bowlers
Look like second raters
When those fellas came out here to bat
West Indies tried Holder and Keith Boyce
They had no other choice
They even try with Uton Dowe
But ah sure that they sorry they bring him now
It was Gavaskar
De real master
Just like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all, not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all
Little Desmond Lewis
Also Charlie Davis
Dey take a little shame from out we face
But Sobers as the captain
He want plenty coachin'
Before we cricket end up in a disgrace
Bedi hear that he became a father
So he catch out Holford in the covers
But when Sobers hear he too had a son
He make duck and went back in the pavilion
It was Gavaskar
De real master
Just like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all, not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all
...and here you can see Lord Relator perform the calypso, in an appropriately grainy video from the 1970s:
.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Belated Happy Birthday, Gavaskar
“Fluke- part II”, Gavaskar’s explanation for India winning the World Championship of Cricket in Australia in 1985.
Gavaskar was and still remains my all time favourite cricketer not because he was the most accomplished opening batsmen the world has seen since his time but because of his ready wit, sense of humour and an intellectual approach towards all aspects of the game. He knew how to put down the most fearsome bowling attack- but who doesn’t know that? He knew how to put down the all powerful BCCI bosses who in those days treated cricketers with only slightly more respect than their household servants. They earned paltry match fees and little perks. Gavaskar, along with Bishensingh Bedi formed players’ association, took the board head on and began a process of change in the fortunes of the sportspersons. He also knew how to put down the Press. Once in a press conference when asked to explain a band-aid on his forehead, he replied, “I had a fight with Kapil Dev”.
He is the only Indian cricketer to have penned down his memoirs, ie without services of ghost or collaborative writers. ‘Sunny Days’ is immensely enjoyable to read and again a testimony to the days when cricketers came from a stock of college graduates and not school drop-outs. (There used to be a rumour that Dilip Vengsarkar took so long to finish his B.Com. was due to Poddar college deliberately not passing him to keep him in the college team!)
Gavaskar made his debut in the Indian test team at the age of 21 after graduating from St. Xavier’s college. What a debut it was! His amassing 774 runs in four tests with an average of 154.8 in the 1971 series in West Indies still remains a record. The series began his love affair with the Caribbean. They even composed calypsos for him:
“It was Gavaskar
The real master
Just like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all
Not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all”.
http://www.cricinfo.com/ci/content/story/120290.html
That series also began his love affair with the West Indian pace battery. He scored more runs against them on their home turf than anybody else. Imagine demolishing a combined attack of the likes of Roberts, Holding, Garner and later the likes of Clark without wearing a helmet! The highlight in my mind is the 3rd Test of the 1976 series in which India successfully chased 403 runs in the last innings. Both Gavaskar and Vishwanath scored a century in it.
It is true that Gavaskar hated to loose his wicket. Somebody please make a chart of all his 214 test innings and his wicket in the order of the fall of wickets. My hunch is that more dots will appear in the latter five positions. I know that he carried his bat at least once if not more (i.e. the entire team got out in front of him!) We all remember his last test innings in 1987 against Pakistan at Bangalore on a crumbling pitch, his valiantly holding the fort almost till the very end before succumbing to a dubious decision at 96. Pakistan won the match by 16 runs.
Why he had to retire when batsmen who replaced him as an opener, and there were about a dozen in quick succession, were not even quarter as good as him.
But that is Gavaskar for you.
It is generally believed that Gavaskar, though a Master of the Test genre was a goner in the limited overs format. That he couldn’t adapt his ‘defensive’ style to this more aggressive form of cricket. I disagree. He was too clever a cricketer not to adapt. For one, he adopted a more rigorous fitness regimen and became a specialist fielder in the deep and becoming much sharper slip and close-in fielder too. Recall the match against Pakistan in 1995 Rothman’s 4 Nation Cup at Sharjah. India bowled out the opposition for 87 while defending a meager score of 125 in 50 overs. Gavaskar took four catches in the slip.
http://thatscricket.oneindia.in/odi/1985/rothmans-four-nations-cup-1984-85/ind-
vs-pak-sc-45749.html
Talking about one day cricket, India reaching the finals of the 1983 Prudential world cup, let alone winning it, is considered a very big surprise. The ‘Fluke- II’ comment was made as a reference to this. We will never get tired of watching the highlights of that historic match; we have memorized it ball by ball. Though, why was it a surprise? Did we not beat the favourites in the very first Group B match on 10th June at Old Trafford? India won by 34 runs, after scoring 262. (Anything above 250 was considered HUGE in those days).
So, maybe 10th June 1983 was a surprise. Was it really? Wind the clock back by a couple of months to 29th March 1983- the 2nd ODI in which India beat the mighty West Indies by 27 runs after scoring…hold your breath…282 runs. This probably was the first time when the Indian team believed in itself in the one-day format. Gavaskar made 90 in 117 balls. I feel, this victory holds the key in understanding our changed performance in the world cup following immediately after the WI tour.
http://thatscricket.oneindia.in/odi/1983/india-in-west-indies-1982-83/ind-vs-wi-sc-43340.html
Exceptions don’t prove a rule and in Gavaskar’s case, there is no need to rely on exceptions. Figures speak for themselves:
http://www.cricinfo.com/india/content/player/28794.html
Recently, on 10th July while watching news report of celebrations of his 60th birthday, I was reminded of one occasion in the past when my friends extracted a treat of samosa and chai from me on a 10th July in the college canteen, exploiting their knowledge that I was such a huge fan of his.
Gavaskar was and still remains my all time favourite cricketer not because he was the most accomplished opening batsmen the world has seen since his time but because of his ready wit, sense of humour and an intellectual approach towards all aspects of the game. He knew how to put down the most fearsome bowling attack- but who doesn’t know that? He knew how to put down the all powerful BCCI bosses who in those days treated cricketers with only slightly more respect than their household servants. They earned paltry match fees and little perks. Gavaskar, along with Bishensingh Bedi formed players’ association, took the board head on and began a process of change in the fortunes of the sportspersons. He also knew how to put down the Press. Once in a press conference when asked to explain a band-aid on his forehead, he replied, “I had a fight with Kapil Dev”.
He is the only Indian cricketer to have penned down his memoirs, ie without services of ghost or collaborative writers. ‘Sunny Days’ is immensely enjoyable to read and again a testimony to the days when cricketers came from a stock of college graduates and not school drop-outs. (There used to be a rumour that Dilip Vengsarkar took so long to finish his B.Com. was due to Poddar college deliberately not passing him to keep him in the college team!)
Gavaskar made his debut in the Indian test team at the age of 21 after graduating from St. Xavier’s college. What a debut it was! His amassing 774 runs in four tests with an average of 154.8 in the 1971 series in West Indies still remains a record. The series began his love affair with the Caribbean. They even composed calypsos for him:
“It was Gavaskar
The real master
Just like a wall
We couldn't out Gavaskar at all
Not at all
You know the West Indies couldn't out Gavaskar at all”.
http://www.cricinfo.com/ci/content/story/120290.html
That series also began his love affair with the West Indian pace battery. He scored more runs against them on their home turf than anybody else. Imagine demolishing a combined attack of the likes of Roberts, Holding, Garner and later the likes of Clark without wearing a helmet! The highlight in my mind is the 3rd Test of the 1976 series in which India successfully chased 403 runs in the last innings. Both Gavaskar and Vishwanath scored a century in it.
It is true that Gavaskar hated to loose his wicket. Somebody please make a chart of all his 214 test innings and his wicket in the order of the fall of wickets. My hunch is that more dots will appear in the latter five positions. I know that he carried his bat at least once if not more (i.e. the entire team got out in front of him!) We all remember his last test innings in 1987 against Pakistan at Bangalore on a crumbling pitch, his valiantly holding the fort almost till the very end before succumbing to a dubious decision at 96. Pakistan won the match by 16 runs.
Why he had to retire when batsmen who replaced him as an opener, and there were about a dozen in quick succession, were not even quarter as good as him.
But that is Gavaskar for you.
It is generally believed that Gavaskar, though a Master of the Test genre was a goner in the limited overs format. That he couldn’t adapt his ‘defensive’ style to this more aggressive form of cricket. I disagree. He was too clever a cricketer not to adapt. For one, he adopted a more rigorous fitness regimen and became a specialist fielder in the deep and becoming much sharper slip and close-in fielder too. Recall the match against Pakistan in 1995 Rothman’s 4 Nation Cup at Sharjah. India bowled out the opposition for 87 while defending a meager score of 125 in 50 overs. Gavaskar took four catches in the slip.
http://thatscricket.oneindia.in/odi/1985/rothmans-four-nations-cup-1984-85/ind-
vs-pak-sc-45749.html
Talking about one day cricket, India reaching the finals of the 1983 Prudential world cup, let alone winning it, is considered a very big surprise. The ‘Fluke- II’ comment was made as a reference to this. We will never get tired of watching the highlights of that historic match; we have memorized it ball by ball. Though, why was it a surprise? Did we not beat the favourites in the very first Group B match on 10th June at Old Trafford? India won by 34 runs, after scoring 262. (Anything above 250 was considered HUGE in those days).
So, maybe 10th June 1983 was a surprise. Was it really? Wind the clock back by a couple of months to 29th March 1983- the 2nd ODI in which India beat the mighty West Indies by 27 runs after scoring…hold your breath…282 runs. This probably was the first time when the Indian team believed in itself in the one-day format. Gavaskar made 90 in 117 balls. I feel, this victory holds the key in understanding our changed performance in the world cup following immediately after the WI tour.
http://thatscricket.oneindia.in/odi/1983/india-in-west-indies-1982-83/ind-vs-wi-sc-43340.html
Exceptions don’t prove a rule and in Gavaskar’s case, there is no need to rely on exceptions. Figures speak for themselves:
http://www.cricinfo.com/india/content/player/28794.html
Recently, on 10th July while watching news report of celebrations of his 60th birthday, I was reminded of one occasion in the past when my friends extracted a treat of samosa and chai from me on a 10th July in the college canteen, exploiting their knowledge that I was such a huge fan of his.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Sar(i)torial Tyranny
It is often unsettling to see many Muslim women in a Burkha with a niqab, i.e. a face veil. Many are forced to dress thus, some others resign to the dictates and yet a few are too willing to follow the suit. The religious structure that compels this kind of dress code argues that it is mandatory to dress modestly. This injunction is interpreted severally as just a head scarf or a full hijab to the extremities of a niqab. At the ground level, therefore it becomes more of a social code where every social group (and there are several) evolves its own set of rules and a mechanism of enforcement. Conforming to these rules is thus to retain or some time assert one’s social identity. I am much too aware that many veiled Muslim women I encounter in a ladies compartment of my local train have willingly accepted the dress code; most are young college going girls or educated office goers. One may even sense a high moral ground kind of attitude that comes over people when they adopt religious customs.
I find it awkward that I will not recognize them if I meet them again as all I have seen is a tight oval window revealing the front of the face and some times even less- just the two eyes peering from a slit. The burkha surely divests them the dignity and identity of an individual.
Why then, I am arguing against the French President’s desire to ban the burkha? Mr. Sarkozy has denounced the garment as a sign of women’s subjugation. Surely, he is right. Then why complain?
If a garment can represent women’s subjugation, then, burkha is not alone.
What about the good old Indian saree? Some of my Marwari friends in Panvel where I live are compelled to wear only sarees by their ultra traditional families. Surreptitiously changing into a salwar kameez when they visit a friend or go out of town is their idea of indulging in a forbidden pleasure. I remember, in my own Gujarati family, for my mother and aunts wearing the saree in a non-Gujarati fashion itself was an act of defiance against the traditional values. For these women, letting their daughters-in-law to wear a ‘Punjabi Dress’ is akin to a major revolution. But you can’t catch them dead without a dupatta. The term used to justify these traditions is ‘maryada’ which literally means ‘limits’. Women must remain within certain limits. The most commonly enforced limits are in the sartorial realm as it is the most outward manifestation of status. So, why not liberate all these women by banning sarees and dupattas? There are people out there who do feel that wearing a saree is a sign of backwardness. Where does this leave someone who wears a saree out of choice as they think Punjabi dress as alien as pants? What if Sarkozy declares it as unwelcome in France.
My objection is against compelling women what they must wear. I object in equal measure against dictating what they can’t wear or judging them by what they choose to wear. Women always have to be told, they can’t decide for themselves.
Finally, why just ban a head scarf? Why leave out fancy hats? Why not liberate HRH Queen Elizabeth II who never appears in public with her head bare?
I find it awkward that I will not recognize them if I meet them again as all I have seen is a tight oval window revealing the front of the face and some times even less- just the two eyes peering from a slit. The burkha surely divests them the dignity and identity of an individual.
Why then, I am arguing against the French President’s desire to ban the burkha? Mr. Sarkozy has denounced the garment as a sign of women’s subjugation. Surely, he is right. Then why complain?
If a garment can represent women’s subjugation, then, burkha is not alone.
What about the good old Indian saree? Some of my Marwari friends in Panvel where I live are compelled to wear only sarees by their ultra traditional families. Surreptitiously changing into a salwar kameez when they visit a friend or go out of town is their idea of indulging in a forbidden pleasure. I remember, in my own Gujarati family, for my mother and aunts wearing the saree in a non-Gujarati fashion itself was an act of defiance against the traditional values. For these women, letting their daughters-in-law to wear a ‘Punjabi Dress’ is akin to a major revolution. But you can’t catch them dead without a dupatta. The term used to justify these traditions is ‘maryada’ which literally means ‘limits’. Women must remain within certain limits. The most commonly enforced limits are in the sartorial realm as it is the most outward manifestation of status. So, why not liberate all these women by banning sarees and dupattas? There are people out there who do feel that wearing a saree is a sign of backwardness. Where does this leave someone who wears a saree out of choice as they think Punjabi dress as alien as pants? What if Sarkozy declares it as unwelcome in France.
My objection is against compelling women what they must wear. I object in equal measure against dictating what they can’t wear or judging them by what they choose to wear. Women always have to be told, they can’t decide for themselves.
Finally, why just ban a head scarf? Why leave out fancy hats? Why not liberate HRH Queen Elizabeth II who never appears in public with her head bare?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Konkani Muslim Wedding and Sarkozy
Yesterday was my husband’s cousin’s Konkani Muslim Wedding at the Haj House near VT station. The men were dressed more or less the same- Pant and Bush Shirt- in simple style and subdued colours. The two men who have a central role to play in a Muslim wedding were dressed a little differently. The groom had a more flamboyant blue shirt on with a corduroy jacket that was promptly removed after the brief ceremony. The Bride’s father had a black coat and a black fur cap (a bit like what Farooq Abdullah wears) on. When the Kazi who was the only bearded man in the hall (and a few others) began to recite the Kalma, the groom donned a white skull cap which was clearly a last minute and unco-ordinated inclusion in his wedding attire. A couple of elders on the stage placed their handkerchiefs on their head. The rest tried to look as solemn as they could with their bare heads. The groom’s father was walking up and down, giving catering instructions on his mobile phone while his son was reciting his wedding wows. It can’t be more humdrum and matter of fact than this.
The scene among the other sex was different. The women were a motley mix. At the middle of the spectrum were the normal Konkani Muslim women of our family- clad in a Banarasi saree and gold Mangalsutra sans bindi. There was a section of women clad in black burkhas- maybe very distant relatives as neither I knew them nor was introduced to them. Then there was this bizarre lot who was dressed in zhakpak salwar kameez and wore shiny imitation jewellery. Among all this, you wouldn’t have missed a huge number of women dressed in Banarasis, mangalsutras with bindis on their foreheads. They were the more family than friends Hindu friends of the family and long standing neighbours, greeting our aunt with the muslim hug. As if this was not enough, you also had my husband’s Bohra Muslim aunt clad in a bright coloured and intricately embroidered Bohra burkha known as a rida.
In short, men and women dressed as they pleased or as they understood/ interpreted the tradition. I did not see any consciously defined uniform pattern. This is how it should be: Let people be. Let them choose for themselves. Give them the freedom to follow their traditions or reject them, as long as they are not causing harm to others.
What would Mr. Sarkozy have made out regarding the Muslim sartorial tradition if he was a guest at the above wedding? He has created a stir by proposing a ban on burkha in France.
How can any state dictate what people should not wear? I am sure there are anti-nudist laws in France, meaning one can not go about completely naked in public, meaning one has to wear some clothes at least. That being the case, who decides the upper limit? Personally, I can’t understand why some Muslim women choose to wear a sac like garment with a face mask. I don’t get the logic of modesty implied here. I also don’t understand the stark contrast in the way men and women dress at the Oscar award ceremony, for instance. Now, either the women must be freezing to near death or the men must be slowing stewing inside their penguin like uniforms. You don’t go about advocating bans on some things you don’t like or understand.
Compare some universities in Uttar Pradesh banning girls from wearing jeans with the French government banning burkhas. Both acts are equally dubious even though the former seems to be imposing restrictions on women while the latter seems to liberate them from restrictions. At a deeper level they commit a similar folly.
I wish both the state and the church would leave people alone in matters of personal choices.
The scene among the other sex was different. The women were a motley mix. At the middle of the spectrum were the normal Konkani Muslim women of our family- clad in a Banarasi saree and gold Mangalsutra sans bindi. There was a section of women clad in black burkhas- maybe very distant relatives as neither I knew them nor was introduced to them. Then there was this bizarre lot who was dressed in zhakpak salwar kameez and wore shiny imitation jewellery. Among all this, you wouldn’t have missed a huge number of women dressed in Banarasis, mangalsutras with bindis on their foreheads. They were the more family than friends Hindu friends of the family and long standing neighbours, greeting our aunt with the muslim hug. As if this was not enough, you also had my husband’s Bohra Muslim aunt clad in a bright coloured and intricately embroidered Bohra burkha known as a rida.
In short, men and women dressed as they pleased or as they understood/ interpreted the tradition. I did not see any consciously defined uniform pattern. This is how it should be: Let people be. Let them choose for themselves. Give them the freedom to follow their traditions or reject them, as long as they are not causing harm to others.
What would Mr. Sarkozy have made out regarding the Muslim sartorial tradition if he was a guest at the above wedding? He has created a stir by proposing a ban on burkha in France.
How can any state dictate what people should not wear? I am sure there are anti-nudist laws in France, meaning one can not go about completely naked in public, meaning one has to wear some clothes at least. That being the case, who decides the upper limit? Personally, I can’t understand why some Muslim women choose to wear a sac like garment with a face mask. I don’t get the logic of modesty implied here. I also don’t understand the stark contrast in the way men and women dress at the Oscar award ceremony, for instance. Now, either the women must be freezing to near death or the men must be slowing stewing inside their penguin like uniforms. You don’t go about advocating bans on some things you don’t like or understand.
Compare some universities in Uttar Pradesh banning girls from wearing jeans with the French government banning burkhas. Both acts are equally dubious even though the former seems to be imposing restrictions on women while the latter seems to liberate them from restrictions. At a deeper level they commit a similar folly.
I wish both the state and the church would leave people alone in matters of personal choices.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Valentine's Day
Yesterday was the valentine's day that was marked by pink chaddis, pink saris, moral brigades, love brigades and what not. An innocous western saint and his day has assumed a large proportion in our country- which in itself is not surprising. We are all asked to take sides- should we or should we not celebrate this western festival? Then, long explanations follow why we
should or should not celebrate it.
While we were in college, we had not heard of a Valentine's day. (I graduated in 1988) Many of my college mates would have been only too pleased if they were 'forcibly' married off (for free) by self righteous outfits. And mind you, we had not heard of these outfits too, then. For all I dig into my memory, my first valentine day gift was in 1992 when on 14th Feb, my
beloved husband of one and a half year presented me with a gift paper wrapped 'masala no dabbo', a crucial kitchen item for a Gujju girl which was missing in his parental house. I still use it. So, tell me, is valentine day against our culture?
Of couse, the advertising hype around the day was at its peak at that time. The college where I teach saw two quite bizzare celebrations involving auctioning of chocolates to be gifted to the objects of devotion. Many other days became popular such as rose day and friendship day- again largely unheard of earlier.
Suddenly around at the turn of the millenium, the valentine's Day caught attention of Shiv Sena (other outfits are new kids on the block). I distinctly remember that students in my campus had put up posters about the upcoming valentine's day events and had made a large heart shaped rangoli in the courtyard. The Shivsainiks came, objected, tore the posters, smudged a few
corners of the Rangoli and left. This was enough to scare the authorities. The event was modified as 'the butterfly day' and postponed to a later day. The heart shaped rangoli was changed into a butterfly! The 14th Feb was no longer mentioned. I believe, the students also got tired of this concept. The youngsters today, prefer to go to many hang outs in the city on days that convenient to them rather than celebrate a sedate 'day' in the college. The advertising blitz in the paper no longer had that zing. Shiv Sena no longer cared about this day.
We thought the Valentine's Day was slowly becoming dated when thanks to the fringe outfits, it has again been revived in the public mindscape. The publicity generated has benefitted both the pedlers of valentine's Day merchandise and the outfits who want to oppose this phenemenon.
should or should not celebrate it.
While we were in college, we had not heard of a Valentine's day. (I graduated in 1988) Many of my college mates would have been only too pleased if they were 'forcibly' married off (for free) by self righteous outfits. And mind you, we had not heard of these outfits too, then. For all I dig into my memory, my first valentine day gift was in 1992 when on 14th Feb, my
beloved husband of one and a half year presented me with a gift paper wrapped 'masala no dabbo', a crucial kitchen item for a Gujju girl which was missing in his parental house. I still use it. So, tell me, is valentine day against our culture?
Of couse, the advertising hype around the day was at its peak at that time. The college where I teach saw two quite bizzare celebrations involving auctioning of chocolates to be gifted to the objects of devotion. Many other days became popular such as rose day and friendship day- again largely unheard of earlier.
Suddenly around at the turn of the millenium, the valentine's Day caught attention of Shiv Sena (other outfits are new kids on the block). I distinctly remember that students in my campus had put up posters about the upcoming valentine's day events and had made a large heart shaped rangoli in the courtyard. The Shivsainiks came, objected, tore the posters, smudged a few
corners of the Rangoli and left. This was enough to scare the authorities. The event was modified as 'the butterfly day' and postponed to a later day. The heart shaped rangoli was changed into a butterfly! The 14th Feb was no longer mentioned. I believe, the students also got tired of this concept. The youngsters today, prefer to go to many hang outs in the city on days that convenient to them rather than celebrate a sedate 'day' in the college. The advertising blitz in the paper no longer had that zing. Shiv Sena no longer cared about this day.
We thought the Valentine's Day was slowly becoming dated when thanks to the fringe outfits, it has again been revived in the public mindscape. The publicity generated has benefitted both the pedlers of valentine's Day merchandise and the outfits who want to oppose this phenemenon.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Legal or Cultural Issue?
Mangalore Mayor has served a legal notice on the Union minister for women and child development Renuka Chowdhary for issuing statements that "tarnish" city's image. (HT, dated 13 Feb)
To my mind this little news item encapsulates a partly flawed debate relating to the incident in Mangalore where members of one'Shri Ram Sene' stormed a pub and assaulted women. In a democracy, everyone has a right to question. But, if we ask a wrong question, we will get misleading pointers. We will beat the stick at the wrong end. Just as the above mayor has done.
For instance,take a question like this: "Is it against Indian culture to go to pubs?" Maybe it is or maybe it is not. There is no official definition of 'Indian culture' and it is not mandatory to follow it. There are thousands of establishments in our towns and cities that serve all kinds of beverages to whoever will pay. For a certain fringe group to select just one such establishment to launch an attack is to generate publicity and reactions. Nobody had heard of Mr. Muthalik before this, now he is a welknown figure. We see this pattern all the time and yet are fooled by it.
Let's look at another question: "Should they be allowed to take law into their hands?" This attack was not taking law in their hand. It was breaking the law. You take law into your hand when say, you beat up a pickpocket instead of calling the police. The owner and the patrons of the pub were not engaged in any illegal act, therefore, preventing them from doing so was actually illegal and assaulting them was a criminal act.
In many cities people took out morchas to condemn the violence. One placard asked: "Is beating up women a part of Indian culture?" Well, may be it is and may be it is not. However, it is certainly against the law.
I agree that there are several other complex issues involved here as well. Issues such as right wing extremism, repressed behavior of controlling women, class resentment etc. It is evident that most politicians have empathised with the cause of the Sene (ie pub culture is bad), while only mildly denouncing the use of violence. Yet, I feel the nub of the matter is that
the sene members have publically commited violent crime and should be dealt with as a law and order situation. There is an increasing cult of violence and intolerance that gets couched in obsfucating issues and language.
We are a free, liberal democracy. Unless there is a rule of law that protects civilian freedom granted by the constitution, there is no basis for democracy. Unless groups engaged in goondagiri- attacking shops, establishments, theatres, art galleries, places of worship- damaging property and assaulting citizens- unless such acts are not promptly punished (actually
stopped), it is futile to argue about larger issues.
To my mind this little news item encapsulates a partly flawed debate relating to the incident in Mangalore where members of one'Shri Ram Sene' stormed a pub and assaulted women. In a democracy, everyone has a right to question. But, if we ask a wrong question, we will get misleading pointers. We will beat the stick at the wrong end. Just as the above mayor has done.
For instance,take a question like this: "Is it against Indian culture to go to pubs?" Maybe it is or maybe it is not. There is no official definition of 'Indian culture' and it is not mandatory to follow it. There are thousands of establishments in our towns and cities that serve all kinds of beverages to whoever will pay. For a certain fringe group to select just one such establishment to launch an attack is to generate publicity and reactions. Nobody had heard of Mr. Muthalik before this, now he is a welknown figure. We see this pattern all the time and yet are fooled by it.
Let's look at another question: "Should they be allowed to take law into their hands?" This attack was not taking law in their hand. It was breaking the law. You take law into your hand when say, you beat up a pickpocket instead of calling the police. The owner and the patrons of the pub were not engaged in any illegal act, therefore, preventing them from doing so was actually illegal and assaulting them was a criminal act.
In many cities people took out morchas to condemn the violence. One placard asked: "Is beating up women a part of Indian culture?" Well, may be it is and may be it is not. However, it is certainly against the law.
I agree that there are several other complex issues involved here as well. Issues such as right wing extremism, repressed behavior of controlling women, class resentment etc. It is evident that most politicians have empathised with the cause of the Sene (ie pub culture is bad), while only mildly denouncing the use of violence. Yet, I feel the nub of the matter is that
the sene members have publically commited violent crime and should be dealt with as a law and order situation. There is an increasing cult of violence and intolerance that gets couched in obsfucating issues and language.
We are a free, liberal democracy. Unless there is a rule of law that protects civilian freedom granted by the constitution, there is no basis for democracy. Unless groups engaged in goondagiri- attacking shops, establishments, theatres, art galleries, places of worship- damaging property and assaulting citizens- unless such acts are not promptly punished (actually
stopped), it is futile to argue about larger issues.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Last Train to Panvel
I live in Panvel since 1994- from a time when there was no train to Panvel.
Now that it boasts of a large terminus, it's useful to know that the last train to Panvel from VT (CST if you prefer) is at 00.43 am. For someone who has been a commuter on Bombay's suburban trains forever, it's a ticket to wander around the city till midnight and a little beyond. If you have also taken this train as I have done many times, you would know how many people are on board. Workers, men and women working in late shifts in myriad establishments across the city are your co-passengers. Crowds are that are a nightmare at usual hours now appear comforting and reassuring.
Of course, if you for any reason miss this last train, there is always the first train at 4.24 am which you can board after having a break fast of baida pav and chai outside the station (only chai for me, though).
It's never too late or for that matter too early in this city.
Now that it boasts of a large terminus, it's useful to know that the last train to Panvel from VT (CST if you prefer) is at 00.43 am. For someone who has been a commuter on Bombay's suburban trains forever, it's a ticket to wander around the city till midnight and a little beyond. If you have also taken this train as I have done many times, you would know how many people are on board. Workers, men and women working in late shifts in myriad establishments across the city are your co-passengers. Crowds are that are a nightmare at usual hours now appear comforting and reassuring.
Of course, if you for any reason miss this last train, there is always the first train at 4.24 am which you can board after having a break fast of baida pav and chai outside the station (only chai for me, though).
It's never too late or for that matter too early in this city.
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