Everything that I loved about India has been in its past. The radical thinking of Gandhi, the literature of Kalidas, the architecture of Taj, the films of Satyajit Ray... I grope to find something of consequence that arouses my jingoistic fervor in current times. Or that was the case till a few days back when I brunched with 6 non-Indian friends in a restaurant filled with more non-Indians. When I looked around me and saw the sea of white (and I am not being racist here), it suddenly dawned on me that there must be something about this country that still attracts those strangers living beyond the seas. I almost yelped out a jubiliant cry in my head "India still has it!" . This interesting conglomeration had me wondering - why do they come here? Is it because India is so cheap for them, most certainly so. But somehow, I couldn't let myself be convinced of this reply alone, there certainly IS something more than the economic viability that terms this country that I live in, 'exotic'. Ofcourse this incident had generated enough intellectual curiosity in me and I knew tonight was going to be another one of those sit down and reflect moments.
So as I sit down with my glass of wine and the magical baritone of Abida Parveen levitating me to an ethereal state of mind, I begin my journey of rediscovering India! I realize I have been harsh on my homeland, all of us living here have. Cribbing about the state of affairs, criticizing the civic sense of fellow citizens, all-in-all nurturing a super negative attitude and deeming myself too good for this country. Then it hit me like a hard slap across my face. "I am a fool to not enjoy being a part of this glorious era of this country". Because that is excatly what it is - a poignant revolution. How else could you term a change of this magnitude where people are earnestly fighting for their individuality, where women are in the awakening of their newly discovered rights, where virtual world precedes the reality of tomorrow, where the custodians of society and religion are constantly questioned about dogmas that have plagued innocent, faithful minds? While I dwell in this recent consolation, another thought crosses my mind - there should be no reason to be ashamed of ignorance, provided you see the wave of change in the horizon. Every successful civilization went through it, every advanced country was once doomed in the dark ages. India too, is in a similar bubble right now and it is our fortune that we will be part of this significant change. It is definitely the time for action, for questioning, for discovering that country where you'd want your children to grow in.
Someone I knew said, "It is best to live in the ages of turmoil than to live in one of absolute stillness". That is the exact reason that attracts people to India - the dynamic, pulsating, uncertain times. You hate it one minute and you love it the immediate next, but you cannot go a single moment without forming an opinion of it. During these vibrant times, changes are creeping in to our lives even though we do not, would not like to acknowledge it. The international airport, the promise of a new mode of transport - the metro, the new generation women and men who finally think 'marriage' is not the only solution to settling down. Aging parents who respect and admire the new age thoughts of a supposedly irresponisible genreation... how can we deny that these aren't the stepping stones to a different India?
Yes, this wave hasn't necessarily percolated to the least common denominator, but it is only a matter of time that it will. It has to. In the years to come this country will be the result of the questioning that we are doing today and to me, all of a sudden, it is a privilege to be a part of this Indian revolution!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Monday, March 31, 2008
One and a half - the 'auto'matic reply!
They are universally hated after cockroaches and the sad part is some of them deserve it too! The purpose of this blog is not to bitch about auto drivers, there are plenty of other forums to do that - like the coffee vending machines in the mornings, like breakfast shows on radio, like the auto stand, the list goes on...
Being a single, working woman in the city of "Bad traffic" my interaction with the bugs in black and yellow is as inevitable as Britney's need to be in the newspapers every morning. I can safely say I have been studying this species for so long that I am ready to write a thesis on them, but for now I will start with this blog entry.
1. How to get an auto guy to come to your destination?
Remember the time you were standing for over an hour asking every other auto guy if he would come to your destination and all you got was a head shake (some of them don't even wait for that)? I am going to let you in on a little secret that will most certainly turn the tables. FYI this theory has taken years of rejection and deep insights to master the art of getting the man to say a 'yes'. Please ensure you follow the procedure step by step for it to work. Here goes...
Remember the times when you are enjoying a lovely stroll on the footpath down Indiranagar 100Ft road, window shopping and loving the gul mohar blossoms? What happens? Every two steps you take you are halted by an empty auto. Put the same formula to practise every time you want an auto - pretend you do not NEED one! And when an empty auto does stop by, with the auto driver shaking his head in a question "where to" just pretend like you do not need him but 'what the hell now that you are here, I may as well use your services'. It works like magic .. every time.
2. How to judge if the meter is faulty?
Alas, even I haven't been able to crack the code completely but here are a few insider tips. When you ask the guy to take you somewhere and he immeditaley asks for an extra and when you start to walk away comes back and promises to take you on 'meter'.. it is more certainly than Obama winning Diplomatic seat, a faulty meter.
3. How to get off an ugly argument over faulty meter and yet pay only the correct price?
Well there are multiple theories to this one. But mostly it is rooted in behaviourial psychology. You need to observe the man carefully - if he is the lazy kinds - step on the acclerator of charge. Shoot him with your words ask him to come to the police station, create a scene - chances are he will be too lazy to continue an argument. He will give up.
If he is the shamelessly dishonest types. Kill him with a morality pep talk. Trust me this works - I have tried it put personally and the driver was so bugged with me that he folded his hands, pleaded and said I didn't have to pay him a single penny for the ride as long as I shut up.
If he is the honest looking but really dishonest type, then play along with him. Tell him you are surprised that such an honest looking man can have a faulty meter. Advice him to go get his meter checked perhaps, he didn't notice it was faulty at all.
If he is the red eyed, monster looking types act dumb in the beginning. Tell him it never costs so much and you travel every single day. If he is adamant as hell and turns aggressive, there are 3 options - shut up, pay up or run like hell.
Do share your insights and theories on this strange species. It may or may not hold true every time but hey it is not like we have Einstein's theory to refute here!
Being a single, working woman in the city of "Bad traffic" my interaction with the bugs in black and yellow is as inevitable as Britney's need to be in the newspapers every morning. I can safely say I have been studying this species for so long that I am ready to write a thesis on them, but for now I will start with this blog entry.
1. How to get an auto guy to come to your destination?
Remember the time you were standing for over an hour asking every other auto guy if he would come to your destination and all you got was a head shake (some of them don't even wait for that)? I am going to let you in on a little secret that will most certainly turn the tables. FYI this theory has taken years of rejection and deep insights to master the art of getting the man to say a 'yes'. Please ensure you follow the procedure step by step for it to work. Here goes...
Remember the times when you are enjoying a lovely stroll on the footpath down Indiranagar 100Ft road, window shopping and loving the gul mohar blossoms? What happens? Every two steps you take you are halted by an empty auto. Put the same formula to practise every time you want an auto - pretend you do not NEED one! And when an empty auto does stop by, with the auto driver shaking his head in a question "where to" just pretend like you do not need him but 'what the hell now that you are here, I may as well use your services'. It works like magic .. every time.
2. How to judge if the meter is faulty?
Alas, even I haven't been able to crack the code completely but here are a few insider tips. When you ask the guy to take you somewhere and he immeditaley asks for an extra and when you start to walk away comes back and promises to take you on 'meter'.. it is more certainly than Obama winning Diplomatic seat, a faulty meter.
3. How to get off an ugly argument over faulty meter and yet pay only the correct price?
Well there are multiple theories to this one. But mostly it is rooted in behaviourial psychology. You need to observe the man carefully - if he is the lazy kinds - step on the acclerator of charge. Shoot him with your words ask him to come to the police station, create a scene - chances are he will be too lazy to continue an argument. He will give up.
If he is the shamelessly dishonest types. Kill him with a morality pep talk. Trust me this works - I have tried it put personally and the driver was so bugged with me that he folded his hands, pleaded and said I didn't have to pay him a single penny for the ride as long as I shut up.
If he is the honest looking but really dishonest type, then play along with him. Tell him you are surprised that such an honest looking man can have a faulty meter. Advice him to go get his meter checked perhaps, he didn't notice it was faulty at all.
If he is the red eyed, monster looking types act dumb in the beginning. Tell him it never costs so much and you travel every single day. If he is adamant as hell and turns aggressive, there are 3 options - shut up, pay up or run like hell.
Do share your insights and theories on this strange species. It may or may not hold true every time but hey it is not like we have Einstein's theory to refute here!
Friday, February 29, 2008
You need to be mad to be creative
Here's a confession - I am afraid of creativity. Not beacuse I confer to mediocrity but because the ability to conjure up notions that no normal mind can ever perceive takes more than just guts, it takes eccentricity. Like me many of us are afraid to , if I may use the cliched term - 'think different'. It is not so much that one fears the unknown as one fears throwing oneself to an idea, to an abstarct expression, to the throes of melancholy in order to create a pure piece of genius. We are scared as hell of it. We try every possible second to stay happy, we listen to music, take refuge in art, watch sheer pieces of craftsmanship that in all possibility rose from the dark, depressive life of an artist. We acknowledge it, we sing laurels of him but we refuse to lead his life. Yes we appreciate art. There's irony for you right there.
Einstein, Warhol, Newton, Cézanne, Goya, Michelangelo, Turner and Berlioz the geniuses whose masterpieces are now thought to have been influenced by disease. Is that what creativity really is - a disease? Our race is a funny one, while on one hand we raise funds for diseases on the other we celebrate it. In some obnoxious, twisted sense it gives meaning to our life, we are inspired from some man throwing away his life to create that thing that hangs on our walls, plays on our ipods, or is burned, pirated and copied onto DVDs.
Perhaps we never really appreciate art, we just admire or romanticize, to be precise the artist who never lead a 'normal' life...
Einstein, Warhol, Newton, Cézanne, Goya, Michelangelo, Turner and Berlioz the geniuses whose masterpieces are now thought to have been influenced by disease. Is that what creativity really is - a disease? Our race is a funny one, while on one hand we raise funds for diseases on the other we celebrate it. In some obnoxious, twisted sense it gives meaning to our life, we are inspired from some man throwing away his life to create that thing that hangs on our walls, plays on our ipods, or is burned, pirated and copied onto DVDs.
Perhaps we never really appreciate art, we just admire or romanticize, to be precise the artist who never lead a 'normal' life...
Friday, January 25, 2008
The other world
In the beginning I didn't think much of going to Myanmar. It is perhaps because of this that I shall never be able to forget it. I am not the one for dramatics but Myanmar truly is a whole different world. We got in from Thailand, Bangkok to be precise and the stark difference betwen the two countries hits you the minute you set foot on Myanmar. Bangkok with its garish wealth, flashy cars and liberated views..then sweet, sweet Myanmar, a world of its own tucked away in a mesh of time. Even though I write this blog a few months after returning from Mynamar I distinctly remember every minute that I spent there.
The first thing that hit me was the airport, deathly quiet, it was almot eerie when I got there. We got there at noon and a person from the hotel where we had booked a room was there to receive us. Our 'man' like everybody else, was dressed in a blue and black striped lungi and was carrying a blue canvas bag over his shoulder. Everybody around us although shy, seemed ready with a smile. We got into a white contessa- kind of car, which in Myanmar seemed to be a luxury car. I tried picking up a conversation with our driver but language barriers limited our interaction to just exchanging nods and smiles. We were staying at the Kandawgyi Palace Hotel which overlooked the beautiful Shwedagon pagoda and the lake. since ATMs are scarce in Myanmar, we had made our reservations much in advance wiring the money across. The capital Yangon seemed to me like India in the early 80s untouched by commercialisation, old Cibacca-like hoardings, clean and pollution-free which for a capital seemed almost impossible. Although the atmosphere was so quiet and peaceful one could sense the poignant tension which by now has turned into civil issues. But I am not going to venture into much - partly because I do not want to spoil my romantic picture of the beautiful country and partly because I want to avoid a foreigner's perspective on a much deep-rooted problem.
The places 'Lonely Planet' suggests you to vist in Myanmar are: Yangon, Inle lake, Mandalay and Bagan. Since most of our trip was already planned out and we did have a few days, we decided to venture out and do some exploring on our own. Speaking to the locals, we got to know of a small beach close by called Nwesaung beach. It was 5-6 hours from Yangon by road so we hired a car and took off. We stayed in this resort that was called 'Sunny beach resort'. WOrds would never do justice to this quaint, little place so I am not even going to bother trying to encapsulate it. It would suffice if I were to tell that if ther eis one place I think of that would bring me (or anyone for that matter) peace when I close my eyes, it has to be Nwe Saung beach. The resort was made all of wood and had the old-world charm about it. After doing nothing but basking in the warm Myanmar sun and lazing around the pool, we ventured into the Nwesaung village. The village was a modest one, the people in the village seemed honest and inquisitive about us we were the only foreigners. What caught my attention the most was the house that were on stilts and seemed so basic yet warm. As we were walking, an old man called out to me. I had no idea what he was saying but I figured he wanted to us to join him. We went along and sat on his door step. His house seemed smaller than the others. A small, battered hand rickshaw was parked in the yard. The house was just a corridor with two doors, one at the front and the other that opened to the beach at the back. His wife sat behind him grounding beetle nuts. It was an interesting interaction because we never really talked just poinetd to things, noodded and smiled a lot. The man showed us a picture of himself in younger days with his arms around a white man. Then he pointed to a purple blanket of Thai Airlines and motioned it had been a gift from the man in the picture. The reason why I mention this is because even though we didn't understand we each other, we sat there like we were visiting friends and talking when we didn't speak the same language and yet it seemed so normal. That is what Myanmar makes you do - forget superficaility, it urges you to get in touch with just your true self.
Our next halt was Bagan. Getting off the plane, we had to pay $20 each at the airport as entry to a historical site. Neat and convinient. Atleast I do not have to whisk out my purse every single time at each and every monument. Our driver was waiting for us again and we sat in the car and drove off. I rememebr the exact sentiments as soon as we left the airport and I set my eyes on the first pagoda. WOW! The driver who spoke a little english smiled at my awe and said to me "Madam, you haven't even seen anything yet". That was probably the understaement of the century because the whole town is filled with over 450 pagodas in all shapes, colours and sizes. Bagan is located on the Ayeyarwady river and was once the capital to several ancient Burmese kingdoms. What exactly is a pagoda and why did people build so many of them? My understanding was it is a buddhist temple which it is but my true understanding of its significance was revealed when I picked up the book "Bumese days" by George Orwell. Apparently people build pagodas to redeem themselves of their sins and to attain salvation. Once again I marvelled at the fear and man's obsession with life after death. Think about it that is the universal truth no matter where you go - The pyramids of Egypt, the tombs of Delhi, the pagodas of Burma.. man is constantly worried about his next life in everypart of the world and in every century. The pagodas were little temple-like structures mostly made from mud and bricks. Some them even had fresco ppaintings in them that dated back to 10th century I was told. We stayed at the Riveside resort which again had an old world charm about it with dark wooden floors and the smell of an ancient world. The popular mode of transportation and one that is highly recommended is the horse carriage ride. When we stepped out of our hotel a burmese man approcahed us and introduced himself as "Mr.Tim" not just Tim but "Mr.Tim" he said he would take us around the ruins for the equivalent of Rs.400 for the whole day! If you think it is expensive, compare it to the autorickshaw rides in Bangalore. I took an instant liking to Mr.Tim, there was this sense of dignity and honesty about him. This is true for the people in Myanmar even. This was the only country which Lonely planet described as "Forget you wallet and chances are you will have localites coming up and reminding you of it". The place is a heaven for single-women travellers as well. Even though I wasn't alone, the few times that I did venture out by myself I found people almost sheilding me from no apparent danger. What stands out from my trip to Bagan though is having dinner near the ruins of a pagoda, under the starry night. You see the place leaves no chance but to turn into a hopeless romantic. This is my feeble attempt to make this blog entry an informative one: If you are interested in shopping one must try out the laquer work and the sand paintings. Perhaps the only disappointment was food that seemed mostly fried but that could just be my lack of adaptability.
All said and done Myanmar is truly a place one should visit in their lifetime. It is of little wonder that Kipling was enamored by the beauty of Mandalay. Go there and you will experience it for yourself.
The first thing that hit me was the airport, deathly quiet, it was almot eerie when I got there. We got there at noon and a person from the hotel where we had booked a room was there to receive us. Our 'man' like everybody else, was dressed in a blue and black striped lungi and was carrying a blue canvas bag over his shoulder. Everybody around us although shy, seemed ready with a smile. We got into a white contessa- kind of car, which in Myanmar seemed to be a luxury car. I tried picking up a conversation with our driver but language barriers limited our interaction to just exchanging nods and smiles. We were staying at the Kandawgyi Palace Hotel which overlooked the beautiful Shwedagon pagoda and the lake. since ATMs are scarce in Myanmar, we had made our reservations much in advance wiring the money across. The capital Yangon seemed to me like India in the early 80s untouched by commercialisation, old Cibacca-like hoardings, clean and pollution-free which for a capital seemed almost impossible. Although the atmosphere was so quiet and peaceful one could sense the poignant tension which by now has turned into civil issues. But I am not going to venture into much - partly because I do not want to spoil my romantic picture of the beautiful country and partly because I want to avoid a foreigner's perspective on a much deep-rooted problem.
The places 'Lonely Planet' suggests you to vist in Myanmar are: Yangon, Inle lake, Mandalay and Bagan. Since most of our trip was already planned out and we did have a few days, we decided to venture out and do some exploring on our own. Speaking to the locals, we got to know of a small beach close by called Nwesaung beach. It was 5-6 hours from Yangon by road so we hired a car and took off. We stayed in this resort that was called 'Sunny beach resort'. WOrds would never do justice to this quaint, little place so I am not even going to bother trying to encapsulate it. It would suffice if I were to tell that if ther eis one place I think of that would bring me (or anyone for that matter) peace when I close my eyes, it has to be Nwe Saung beach. The resort was made all of wood and had the old-world charm about it. After doing nothing but basking in the warm Myanmar sun and lazing around the pool, we ventured into the Nwesaung village. The village was a modest one, the people in the village seemed honest and inquisitive about us we were the only foreigners. What caught my attention the most was the house that were on stilts and seemed so basic yet warm. As we were walking, an old man called out to me. I had no idea what he was saying but I figured he wanted to us to join him. We went along and sat on his door step. His house seemed smaller than the others. A small, battered hand rickshaw was parked in the yard. The house was just a corridor with two doors, one at the front and the other that opened to the beach at the back. His wife sat behind him grounding beetle nuts. It was an interesting interaction because we never really talked just poinetd to things, noodded and smiled a lot. The man showed us a picture of himself in younger days with his arms around a white man. Then he pointed to a purple blanket of Thai Airlines and motioned it had been a gift from the man in the picture. The reason why I mention this is because even though we didn't understand we each other, we sat there like we were visiting friends and talking when we didn't speak the same language and yet it seemed so normal. That is what Myanmar makes you do - forget superficaility, it urges you to get in touch with just your true self.
Our next halt was Bagan. Getting off the plane, we had to pay $20 each at the airport as entry to a historical site. Neat and convinient. Atleast I do not have to whisk out my purse every single time at each and every monument. Our driver was waiting for us again and we sat in the car and drove off. I rememebr the exact sentiments as soon as we left the airport and I set my eyes on the first pagoda. WOW! The driver who spoke a little english smiled at my awe and said to me "Madam, you haven't even seen anything yet". That was probably the understaement of the century because the whole town is filled with over 450 pagodas in all shapes, colours and sizes. Bagan is located on the Ayeyarwady river and was once the capital to several ancient Burmese kingdoms. What exactly is a pagoda and why did people build so many of them? My understanding was it is a buddhist temple which it is but my true understanding of its significance was revealed when I picked up the book "Bumese days" by George Orwell. Apparently people build pagodas to redeem themselves of their sins and to attain salvation. Once again I marvelled at the fear and man's obsession with life after death. Think about it that is the universal truth no matter where you go - The pyramids of Egypt, the tombs of Delhi, the pagodas of Burma.. man is constantly worried about his next life in everypart of the world and in every century. The pagodas were little temple-like structures mostly made from mud and bricks. Some them even had fresco ppaintings in them that dated back to 10th century I was told. We stayed at the Riveside resort which again had an old world charm about it with dark wooden floors and the smell of an ancient world. The popular mode of transportation and one that is highly recommended is the horse carriage ride. When we stepped out of our hotel a burmese man approcahed us and introduced himself as "Mr.Tim" not just Tim but "Mr.Tim" he said he would take us around the ruins for the equivalent of Rs.400 for the whole day! If you think it is expensive, compare it to the autorickshaw rides in Bangalore. I took an instant liking to Mr.Tim, there was this sense of dignity and honesty about him. This is true for the people in Myanmar even. This was the only country which Lonely planet described as "Forget you wallet and chances are you will have localites coming up and reminding you of it". The place is a heaven for single-women travellers as well. Even though I wasn't alone, the few times that I did venture out by myself I found people almost sheilding me from no apparent danger. What stands out from my trip to Bagan though is having dinner near the ruins of a pagoda, under the starry night. You see the place leaves no chance but to turn into a hopeless romantic. This is my feeble attempt to make this blog entry an informative one: If you are interested in shopping one must try out the laquer work and the sand paintings. Perhaps the only disappointment was food that seemed mostly fried but that could just be my lack of adaptability.
All said and done Myanmar is truly a place one should visit in their lifetime. It is of little wonder that Kipling was enamored by the beauty of Mandalay. Go there and you will experience it for yourself.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Here's to a choice!
Till, with a sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head
- Ted Hughes, The thought fox
The stink proves the fox is alive, the idea is alive.... confusion proves I am alive, in more ways than one. Choice is such a dangerous thing. It is an affliction, almost forcing one to consciously make a decision. Every time I need to make a decision, I am reminded of the lines from Larkin's poem To my wife, "Choice of you shuts up that peacock-fan...". I guess 'choosing' is a gamblers game and unfortunately for me, I have always sucked at it. It is easier when rationale is by your side but what if you have to decide between two options that seems to have equal number of pros and cons? Lord save my soul, those are the decisions I despise with all my heart.
Not long ago I had to choose between two jobs - a dynamic marketing one with great opportunities and that of an idealistic artist. So I sat down to analyze both the possibilities. When one needs to choose, one generally has a pre-meditated choice deep down in their head. An inner voice that softly favors an option, which connivingly makes you choose for you. As things would have it, I had none. The idealist in me said the life of a wanderlust, of a dreamer and the achiever in me swayed towards the notion of success. Then there was the fool in me who said "Why not both?"
It is not important as to what I chose in the end but what was interesting was the process of choosing by itself.
At that point in time I felt the whole universe was filled with "What ifs":
What if nobody had discovered the Earth was round?
What if Ottoman Turks had never captured Istambul forcing the Europeans to discover a new route and eventually colonise?
What if Hitler had succeeded?
What if Gandhi wasn't ever born?
What if the partition hadn't ever taken place?
What if Europe had never gotten out of the dark ages?
What if we were still ruled by monarchy?
What if there was no internet?
Can you imagine the world if people had made choices that were different from the ones we know of today?
Maybe it is a virtue at times when one doesn't have the answers. That is one reason why the fascination with tomorrow shall never cease or for that matter the lure for unknown. Who cares if the fox stinks, atleast it tells you the fox is alive...
It enters the dark hole of the head
- Ted Hughes, The thought fox
The stink proves the fox is alive, the idea is alive.... confusion proves I am alive, in more ways than one. Choice is such a dangerous thing. It is an affliction, almost forcing one to consciously make a decision. Every time I need to make a decision, I am reminded of the lines from Larkin's poem To my wife, "Choice of you shuts up that peacock-fan...". I guess 'choosing' is a gamblers game and unfortunately for me, I have always sucked at it. It is easier when rationale is by your side but what if you have to decide between two options that seems to have equal number of pros and cons? Lord save my soul, those are the decisions I despise with all my heart.
Not long ago I had to choose between two jobs - a dynamic marketing one with great opportunities and that of an idealistic artist. So I sat down to analyze both the possibilities. When one needs to choose, one generally has a pre-meditated choice deep down in their head. An inner voice that softly favors an option, which connivingly makes you choose for you. As things would have it, I had none. The idealist in me said the life of a wanderlust, of a dreamer and the achiever in me swayed towards the notion of success. Then there was the fool in me who said "Why not both?"
It is not important as to what I chose in the end but what was interesting was the process of choosing by itself.
At that point in time I felt the whole universe was filled with "What ifs":
What if nobody had discovered the Earth was round?
What if Ottoman Turks had never captured Istambul forcing the Europeans to discover a new route and eventually colonise?
What if Hitler had succeeded?
What if Gandhi wasn't ever born?
What if the partition hadn't ever taken place?
What if Europe had never gotten out of the dark ages?
What if we were still ruled by monarchy?
What if there was no internet?
Can you imagine the world if people had made choices that were different from the ones we know of today?
Maybe it is a virtue at times when one doesn't have the answers. That is one reason why the fascination with tomorrow shall never cease or for that matter the lure for unknown. Who cares if the fox stinks, atleast it tells you the fox is alive...
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