Off to Kashmir!

The previous post was meant to serve just as an opening to my Kashmir trip travelogue, but as usual my rant turned into a full fledged post. This trip to Kashmir coincided with this sudden turn in my professional life, and both were unexpected, to say the least. For those who do not know, the central Government of India has been offering its employees a nearly fully sponsored trip to Kashmir, or the North-East (Sikkim only, I think) - air fare and all, to boost tourism in these trouble-hit regions in lieu of the LTC scheme. So my mother and one of her colleagues thought of availing this scheme, and I had been hearing mutterings since July about this proposed trip. I never took it seriously, because for one, it just sounded a bit too random, and also I wasn't too keen on going on a trip with another family or a group of people I had never known. With friends its a different deal altogether. But these were friends of my mother! Anyway, by September end, the plans actually started taking shape, increasing my discomfort and reluctance. Finally, the second weekend of October was bookmarked, forms filled, advances applied for and it became a concrete reality. I had spent the entire month of October at home, in between jobs, and while the first 10 days were heaven, being completely idle had started to take a toll on me and my sleeping schedule (whatever little of it could still come under the purview of a 'schedule', that is). So I resigned myself to this trip, because lets face it, I was getting a chance to see the paradise on earth, even if via a Govt. sponsored packaged tour, and when else would ma get a chance to go on such a trip!? But due to unforeseen unfortunate circumstances, the trip was cancelled (as I thought at that time). But a few days later, the discussions surfaced again, and now the dates blocked were immediately a week after I was supposed to join my new lab. Way to make a first impression Aditya, I thought, asking for a four day leave as soon as you join! But this time, the flight tickets were booked, and everything set in motion. So I thought. Elections for Delhi state assembly were announced, and brought with them the threat of election duty for my mother and her colleague. We were supposed to leave on the 8th of November, and my mother was assigned her training on the 7th. One bullet dodged. But her colleague was still in the firing line. Basically, till the evening of 7th November, we were in a limbo if we would actually be able to board the flight on the 8th. But as luck would have it, Mother was assigned her next training day on the 26th, and her colleague was spared of it (as last heard) altogether. So on the evening of the 7th of November, I rushed home from lab, we hurried to pack our bags and buy last minute essentials for the trip. Actually I was more fixated on checking out all the places we were about to visit, the weather forecast there for the next four days, the hotel we were supposed to stay in on the Internet, and asking for tips from friends who had already been there. Realizing I had failed to buy a digital camera for the trip as planned (had just a reel wala archaic camera, which apparently now belongs in a museum) amid all the uncertainty about the trip, I rushed to a friend's house and borrowed his Nikon L100 (he had caught the photography bug a while back and moved on to a DSLR). After trying to stuff as many warm clothes into a single medium sized suitcase for both of us, I decided it would be better to carry the heavy jackets in our hands only to save up on space. A lot of arguing ensued, but we finally managed to pack everything required. We were supposed to catch the flight at 11 next morning, and oh! did I mention, it was the first time traveling by air for both of us! It still had not sunk in that I was actually going on a trip to Kashmir (something I had never ever dreamed of as a possibility while growing up in the 90's and hearing of rampant insurgency). So after a standard breakfast of aloo ke paranthe, and debating whether to pack some along for lunch after landing as advised by the other family (finally deciding against it), we were off to the airport and met our co-travelers (pity there is no beautiful equivalent of humsafar in English!) - my mom's colleague, her husband and daughter. And we were off to Kashmir!

Of fresh starts and changed perspectives ...

They say your destiny eventually catches up with you. And so it seems. My indecisiveness has become my defining trait unfortunately, and the fear of missing out on one thing by committing to another has severely crippled many aspects of my young adult life every now and then, the biggest victim being the career aspirations. Though I always wanted (or rather, still want) to dabble in countless professions, the only thing I really stuck to was Science and research. More out of cowardice than some true passion, in hindsight. Going through the last few years with a hit and trial approach, I was fortunate for the most part and my career decisions more or less worked out in my favour. But the last, and arguably the biggest gamble I took in terms of my career ambitions backfired in the most horrendous way possible, leaving me with 22 of the most miserable and least productive months of my life. I had left a project position in a reputed lab to join the first batch of a PhD programme in an institute reputed for excellence in technology, but the particular department I joined was not even a speck on the institute's radar itself, leave alone the giant  universe that is the field of biological research. Needless to say, my worst fears came true, and an impulsive decision taken against the gut feeling (sounds contrary, I know) cost me dear. I was afraid of losing time, falling behind and jumped on the first opportunity to come instead of waiting (and more importantly, working) for better things. After coming close to quitting every single day, I still forced myself every morning to travel two hours to what was proving to my living hell. All out of fear - if not this, then what? I was also aware of the fact that in order to pursue something else, I will have to let go and completely free myself of this trap I had gotten myself in to. But the fear of being left with nothing was all too overpowering. However after 22 months of constant struggle (with myself, the circumstances, and a few others) which led to frequent and fierce seismic activity, something had to give. In response to a threat in the garb of an ultimatum, I had applied for a position determined to get out of there. Five months later, when I had more or less decided to give up and stay on and try and make lemonade of the rotten lemons thrown at me, the opportunity beckoned in terms of an interview for that same position. I reluctantly went for it, and before I knew it, I landed a PhD position in a lab I would have been lucky to get into in the first place! But still, the most difficult part was to actually go through with this decision, of whether to throw the past 22 months and take up this better opportunity, or stay on and make the best of what I had, making these 22 months count. After talking to a lot of friends, teachers, and people I look up to, who all were unanimous by the way in their opinion of ditching that hell hole, I went with my gut and tried not to think too much about it, and just go with what now seems so obviously the right decision. And now, all I am left with is a feeling of vindication. I always felt that I deserved better, and finally got it. All the fears of wasting two years of my life in a worthless pursuit, giving nearly five more years and starting all over again from scratch still persist, but there is also a huge sense of relief. There is also a faint sense of optimism, and a growing belief that try as you might, nothing comes to you before time.

Sikkim, the searcher and the shaman

"Famed for their knowledge of traditional medicine, the Lepchas live in a little country in the North of India, perched high up in the Himalayas, Sikkim. University professors have come to seek the help of the shaman Dechen and the osteopath Mandela, who watch over the health of Saffu's inhabitants.

Directed by: Werner Kiefer (Germany/France, 2010)"

- (description from the official website of TV5 monde asie)

Image taken from TV5 monde Asie website page linked above

A lazy Friday morning at home, with incredible weather. It almost feels like a rainy day in February, and I am now really hoping for an early onset of winters. At home on a weekday, I usually stay in bed till at least noon. But the wonderfully chilly breeze, and the promise of a beautiful day sans sunshine was enough to make me get out of the bed early morning (well, relatively). After breakfast, I switched on the TV to listen to the commercial free block on Vh1 from 9 to 12, which has some amazing music everyday. I switched the channel when a song I am not particularly fond of came on, and I landed on TV5 Monde asie. A french documentary was on with English subtitles, and I caught a glimpse of a board with Sikkim on it and I stayed. And I am glad I did. The documentary as stated above was titled "Sikkim, the searcher and the shaman". I had missed about half of it, but it apparently was about a researcher from Sikkim University, who travels to the beautiful, remote village of Saffu, nestled in the lap of  the imposing Himalayas, to learn more about the treasure trove of medicinal plants in the Himalayan forests, and how the local healer - called shaman, is keeping alive the practice of traditional medicine. The documentary beautifully explores how these protectors of traditional wisdom are responsible for the well being of an entire village devoid of accessible modern health care, using their profound, vast and irreplaceable knowledge of these medicinal plants and herbs, along with their faith and spiritual beliefs, through the eyes of the researcher, Bharat.

The cinematography is brilliant, and captures the incredible beauty of Sikkim, and the village which though seemingly impoverished, still possesses priceless wealth in the depths of its forests. It traces the days in the lives of the shaman (Dechen), and the healer (Mandela) who collects the herbs and concocts the remedies on the advice of the shaman. They welcome the young researcher, let him observe and teach him their invaluable practices and methods of identifying and collecting the correct plants, and how to prepare and use them for their medicinal benefits. You see patients being administered the remedies, and get better over time, with prayer being an equally important component of the healing process. For instance, the shaman administers extracts from the leopard lily plant to a woman suffering from food poisoning, telling her that he's been using it for 35 years, she should have faith in it, and she will get worse before she gets better. The extracts flush out toxins from the liver, and cause a fever in the process. Of course, the shaman is totally oblivious of this fact, and also of the fact (as pointed out in the documentary) that very recently pharmacologists have identified the active component in this leopard lily plant, which is endemic to this region. It makes you appreciate the fact that what science is just learning now, has been known to our ancestors since ages and forms a part of our traditional knowledge and wisdom passed down by the generations.

The documentary ends with Bharat picking the mind of the shaman, and realizing that though science teaches us to be objective and not trust the supernatural phenomenon, the work of the shaman is based as much on spiritual belief and faith as on the science of medicinal plants. He believes he was chosen by his ancestors and Gods of Nature to become a shaman when he was 12, and prays and chants to ward off the evil spirits possessing his patients - very few of them actually needing medicine to get better. Modern education and science scoffs at such notions, but forms the very basis of this ancient art of healing, which is in danger of dying out, with modern generations moving out to the cities, for jobs and material comforts, and with no interest in pursuing the traditional knowledge which has been passed from generation to generation, without any written records, through observation and teaching. Bharat leaves for his University, vowing to try his best to save this knowledge, and record it for future generations, and to understand the spiritual side of it as well. 

As I gulped in the scenic beauty of the Himalayas along with this documentary, I realized that this is the kind of science that matters. This needs to be pursued on a massive scale. And thankfully, a team of French movie makers got hold of this story from a remote part of India and put it on film, so that more people can become aware of it. It is though painful that hardly anyone in India would see it, or would ever be aware of this incredible phenomenon. Why does it take a French director, or for that matter, people from the west, to explore and uncover the miracles of our country? Does Sikkim even exist in the collective conscience of our nation (other than maybe while gorging on momos), and our news channels? Why do we have to see documentaries made by foreign production houses on Discovery, NGC, and Animal Planet to know more about our own country? Anyway, I am just thankful that I got this chance to see this documentary and learn about this culture, which I might have remained forever oblivious about.

Update: The actual name of the documentary is Sikkim, das alte Wissen der Schamanen. Linking the IMDB page for reference, and its available on youtube too, so embedding it. Watch it instead of reading about it!

Woo Hoo!

So another long hiatus ensues. Its been almost three months I posted anything here, and there is no good reason for it. Anyway, how does it matter? Plenty of things worth writing about have happened, lots of unfinished drafts are gathering dust on the back end, but for now, something totally mundane to break the dry spell. Not really in the mood, or inspired enough to write something profound or insightful!

So for the past few months, my ringtone has been this unreleased track recorded by Ke$ha, called Woohoo!, which I can't even remember when and where did I come across. As the song title, and the artist responsible for it suggests, it is the ultimate upbeat, party anthem. It really is a wonder why it was never released. Would have been a sure shot hit in the clubs and on the dance charts. Check it out here. 

I do remember that when I came across this song, I read somewhere that although not released by her officially, it was loaned to some other band and was heavily sampled by them in their own track. Which now after googling, I can tell you, is Windows Down by Big Time Rush. Anyway, so a few days back, while watching TV, I was just thinking about this song that has been my ringtone for ages now, and was wondering how would that other song sound like. And coincidentally, as I landed on Vh1 while channel surfing, imagine my surprise to hear this loud, grunge-alt song, oddly titled "Song 2" by British alternative band Blur, and it had the same hook and beats as that of Woohoo!

So I assumed this must be the track that sampled Woohoo. Today I finally remembered and managed to download and hear Blur's track, and then google it. To my surprise, this song came out way back in 1997, and it was in fact Ke$ha who had heavily sampled Song 2 on Woohoo! and basically turn this alt song that was supposed to parody American grunge rock, but ironically became a hit amongst the same fan group, into a uptempo party track! (man that was a long sentence!) I pretty much like both the songs, and in fact, since I heard Woohoo! before Song 2, it gives a weird perspective of a dance pop track being converted into a grunge, alt song, though it is the other way round. Either way, the purpose of writing this was to introduce anyone who by chance lands on this blog page to these two pretty cool songs. And to break the rut!

On a side note, I have observed this a million times - quite often when I am thinking about something for a few days now and then, and usually have a missing link, or an unanswered question related to it, then something happens or I come across some information or facts etc inadvertently, which provides that missing link, or answers that question etc, without me actively seeking it. Or it could be just me thinking up some imaginary scenario in my random chain of thoughts someday, and within a few days, something related to that scenario actually happening. For example, almost a decade ago while in high school, and newly introduced to cable TV, my life pretty much revolved around two things - FRIENDS (the TV show, too lazy to put in the dots) and Shania Twain. So one day while obssessing over these two things simultaneously, I just had this idea that how cool it would be if Shania actually guest starred on FRIENDS. And lo! in just a few days after that, the episode of FRIENDS which aired, had Phoebe mentioning Shania Twain! I was flabbergasted that what would be the probability of that happening within the same week as me getting that whimsy. I remember blurting it out to my sister in excitement right then and there, and her shooting me down and dismissing me as a blubbering lunatic (as I am sure many of you reading this right now would also be doing!). Sorry, but that's the best example of this phenomenon I could come up with right now. I have no idea if the last few sentences make any sense to you, but if that thing that I am trying to talk about happens to others as well, they'll get it, I presume. Or maybe as I always suspected, I do have actual, untapped, raw psychic powers that I just haven't learned how to control yet. If you have experienced it too, let me know in the comments, and dismiss the notion of psychic powers in my head!  

No country for Comedy!?

So as it turns out, our government is quite concerned for us, the citizens of India. So much so, that it is ready to be play our knight in shining armour, and protect us from the evils of the world, more specifically, an evil that goes by the name of entertainment, that comes packaged disarmingly in the form of seemingly harmless channels called 'comedy central'. Such is their dedication, that the smallest finger raised at our nation's so called modesty, morality and family values is twisted till it conforms to our demands. So Comedy Central India found itself banned by the Ministry for Information and Broadcasting for ten days last week  on the basis of  scenes from episodes of Stand Up Club and Popcorn TV  (aired way back in Au-Sept 2012) “offensive” and “derogatory to women.”. Now I have not come across anywhere that the ministry was acting on complaints from the general viewing public or a PIL. So I have to assume that it was acting on its own discretion. As is often the case nowadays, the judiciary had to step in and restore some sort of sanity, when the Delhi High Court stayed the ban after three days, after Viacom18 Media filed an appeal challenging the ministry's notification. 

In its notification against the channel, the ministry Referred to various provisions in India's Cable Television Networks Rules set in 1994, saying that one of the rules provides that no program can be broadcast "which denigrates women through the depiction in any manner of the figure of a woman, her form or body or any part thereof in such a way as to have the effect of being indecent, or derogatory to women, or is likely to deprave, corrupt or injure the public morality or morals." [from The Hollywood Reporter]. If this rule has to be strictly followed in its true essence, it would immediately bring all the music channels, movie channels  and even the general entertainment Hindi channels under its purview, and eligible for a ban. Because the last time I checked, the so-called item songs, or even many of the non-item songs as well as the regressive soap operas which are to be found with every click of the remote, do exactly that - denigrate women. What is laughable is that these observations were made with respect to a stand up comedy show on the said channel, when the stand up comedy chows on Indian channels are a hundred times more derogatory, vulgar and offensive, not only to women, but humanity in general. And as I write this, a Hindi movie called Jab tak hain jaan is playing on the TV on a major movie channel in prime time slot, and Anushka Sharma is nonchalantly calling SRK (the lead actors) "asshole". Similarly, the trailers for most contemporary films or even general TV shows use these 'a' words and their brethren, or even thinly veiled references to the 'f' word without ruffling any feathers.Ironically, the English language general entertainment and movie channels here tread a fine line, as they air western shows, which are apparently responsible for 'morally corrupting the younger generation' and 'ruining the Indian culture'. on these channels, the programming is so heavily censored, that more often than not, it takes away a great deal from the content. Even words that can be found in the science books of a 6th grade student are either muted out form the dialog or starred out in the subtitles. one hour shows are cut so heavily that half of the air time is filled by advertisements. 

The point I am trying to make is, why the double standards in moral policing? Not that I want to counter unjustifiable censorship with more of the same thing, but why is it that the local programming can walk away with virtually anything (well not always, considering the whole Dirty Picture on Sony TV episode) like the teacher's pet student, while channels airing international programming have to walk on fire to prove themselves as worthy of being on air on Indian TV? No doubt India is a fragile society, built like a Lego house, of diverse pieces and it requires a certain level of austerity to keep the whole structure from collapsing. But isn't it time that the Government stops babysitting its citizens, telling people what's good for them and what's not, and let them figure it out on their own for once? Did they seriously think that a couple of programs on a niche channel having a limited viewership even within the English-language programming viewers were worth endangering the democratic principles of this country and the freedom of expression and speech?

The Weekend Paradox

This has been one hell of an unbearable week for Delhiites. While we are no strangers to temperature reaching 45 degree Celsius and over in peak summers, it still is usually a one off occurrence in the whole season. But when a whole week goes by with the mercury refusing to go below the 45 mark, life can literally become a burning hell. And this is just the average temperature recorded for the city. Local observations have had recording going as high as 47. Its times like these I wish we could hibernate too. That wish partially comes true, for me at least, on weekends. Every weekend, I go underground. In my home that is. Sleeping late, and parking my ass on the couch for the rest of the day in front of the television, interspersed by the occasional grocery shopping. I am not even on the computer on weekends as much as I am on weekdays. Sounds pretty chilled and relaxed. But for some reason, I end up being bitter and angry throughout the weekend. And the main reason being - I just killed time, without being productive. 

People all over the world look forward to the weekends religiously. I think more odes have been written on Friday than on woman's beauty! Its like a gift of time, and everything fun you want to do in life is scheduled for the weekend. Shopping, trips, travels, visiting friends or family, movies, excursions, catching up on your reading, dusting, cleaning and a thousand other things fill up weekends for people. Or at least, the idea of doing these things. That's all I am left with usually. Just the ideas. Now don't get me wrong, its not like I am extremely productive or super busy on weekdays. That's as far form the truth as possible. But, still on weekdays, there is this illusion of not having time. Your time on weekday is already committed to a prefixed itinerary- in my case, apparently planned by a travel agent who's out to get some long lost revenge on me. You don't have a choice, you have to perform some mundane tasks including getting an education or making a living, and commuting to and fro from the places where you perform the said activities. But on weekends, you have a choice of doing anything else you want to do apart from these things, or even fill in the gaps you left through the week in these - if that's how you roll. For some people, the idea of a perfect weekend could also be the one I described. But somehow, that just leaves me with a feeling of bitterness, of being ashamed at my own laziness and lack of initiative, disappointment that I am sitting on the couch and watching a reality show on TV when I could have been watching live musicians play at the Escape music festival at naukuchiyatal  in Kumaon Hills of Uttarakhand, about which I had been hearing all week long on the radio. Ok, that might be a little bit too ambitious, considering I can't get myself to go to a mall 20 minutes away from my home, leave alone a music festival hundreds of kilometers away. But that is the idea of my life in my head, and the reality is just so distant from it that this rift causes a great deal of disturbance in my mind. Especially off late, since I turned 25 a week back. And as the realization dawns on me that this rant might be more of a reflection of my dissatisfaction with my life in general, rather than a measly weekend, I guess it would be safe to conclude it right here. 

Now I know there is no one who can change all this other than me, myself and I, and there is no one else responsible for it either, but God I wish there was someone I could blame it on! Or much rather, someone who could may be snap me out of this rut! Darn it! Now I feel like I should change the title too. Or rather, I'd just let it continue as a verbal diarrhea of literally thinking out loud. So anyway, in effect, I guess I want to reclaim my life back, starting with more productive and satisfying weekends maybe. And in case someone didnt get it, the paradox lies in the fact that while most people look forward to relaxing on weekends, I want mine to be more productive and ... well, not so lifeless. 

Once Again

Once again the mirror was held up,

to reveal the dark in me.

Once again, I chose to reflect it onto someone else,

shunned all accountability.

Down with the white caps, 

down with the khaki I cried ....

but once again, I failed to look within,

to see the black in me.

Hang the rats by their tails, we cried

we bayed for their blood,

castrate them, we thundered,

and marched ahead, to make ourselves heard.

But once the dust settled down,

once again, we crawled back into oblivion.

When the evil raised its ugly head again,

we just turned our eyes away, convinced, we are helpless.

But aren't we the ones,

who daily fed this hungry monster?

By refusing to change,

to listen, to see, to talk,

and bury it in denial,

we just perpetuated this monster.

Our slate is not clean, 

we just swept it away under the rug. 

If only we could clearly see,

the evil straight in the eye

every time the mirror was held up,

we'd find it lurking, right within.

Where is the dragon,.

you're looking to slay?

Its not dressed in khadi, nor in khaki,

it is wearing your own skin.

Teach our future, what's right,

what's wrong,

what is acceptable and what is to be abhorred.

Change will surely come,

one we start from within our homes.

Hindi cinema, Punjabi soundtrack

Just read an article in The Hindu's Friday supplement (the closest it will ever come to the main body of the Times of India), titled 'Direct, Dil Se'. The subtitle read as, "It is no longer just about Bandra and Bhatinda. .....". This was just the stimulus I needed to write about something that has been irking me for long now, and was on my hitlist of things to lament about here. Its the all pervasive Punjabi songs in Bollywood cinema of recent times. Sure as the afore mentioned article says, Hindi films may have finally broken the confines of Punjab, Gujarat and Maharashtra and starting to venture into the by-lanes of  UP, Bihar, Kolkotta, and the likes. But apparently, the whole country dances to the tunes of bhangra and hums Punjabi lyrics. The first time I realized this was when I was looking at my music collection sometime back, and noticed that in two months of the new year, I had only felt the need to download the music of one film. Even last year, the total number of films with music worthy of listening to more than once was miniscule. While this might be due to the overall falling standards of filmy music, I also realized that I just didn't care to listen to Harshdeep Kaur singing heer or Rabbi's challa as I had no clue as to what they are singing about. Now give me something like angrezi beat, where the music is more than enough and I don't have to really guess what the lyrics mean, and I'll be more than happy. But whats up with all the heavy duty Punjabi music in almost every other Bollywood movie nowadays? A sampler of the trailers and music on TV nowadays - 'Jugni' from Saheb, Biwi aur Gangster returns, a couple of tracks from Mere dad ki maruti (something about Punjabiyon di battery and another one I don't even know what its called). 

Now when we are talking about movies that are set in Punjab and the stories are integral to the state, I get that the music adds to the flavour - movies Mausam, Luv Shuv tey Chicken khurana, needed their (wonderful, I might add) Punjabi soundtracks. But do we need a Punjabi track in every movie? I have not seen Jab tak hai jaan (and will not see it. well ..... Jab tak hai jaan!), but I am guessing it wasn't really necessary for SRK to jump around like a monkey singing an all out Punjabi song on the streets of UK or US (or whatever hell western country Yash Chopra chose this time around to humiliate Indians) in a HINDI movie!? Did a movie like cocktail need to have all those Punjabi tracks (borrowed from various sources), however great they might have been? Did a student of the year really need a "Velle" or Kukkad"? Did a UP-based Tanu weds Manu, need a Jugni (there seems to be a lot of them anyway!) in the end credits? And speaking of Jugnis, one of the stand out moments in Cocktail for me was when Deepika Padukone's character realizes she's hit rock bottom, at a party, and is seen lying on a rooftop, ravishing in a green dress. The song playing in the background is, of course, another Jugni! And though I love that song, I have no idea what it is saying! I do not know how does it convey the turmoil the character is going through, or even if it does do that or not, because I do not understand the lyrics. So it takes away something from that moment for me. Do the filmmakers and music directors and lyricists of our Hindi film industry really believe that the entire country understands Punjabi? Heck I am a Delhiite, and Delhi might as well be the honorary capital of Punjab, and I still have trouble understanding and more importantly, identifying with those songs! I just feel like flipping the channel, or get bored and distracted when most of them come on. 

Now I am not saying that if its a Hindi movie, it all should be inexplicably Hindi. I don't mind a Marathi 'Navrai Majhi' (English Vinglish), Womaniya or a Gujarati 'Shubhaarambh' (Kai Po Che) thrown in every now and then. In fact, these are pleasant, refreshing breath of fresh air. All I am opposing is this excessive, unending barrage of unnecessary Punjabi music and lyrics (they bother more) in every second Hindi film! And this is a relatively recent trend maybe last couple of years or so. I guess it has to do with the recent success of Punjabi pop music and artists like Mika, Honey Singh and so on. Not so long ago, a "tere bin" by Rabbi (Delhi Heights) or even Mauja Mauja (Mika) were extremely appreciated. Because then they were the exceptions, rather than the norm. Hindi Pop music scene died with the 90's and all we have now is Bollywood to satiate our need for Hindi music. A little regional flavour every now and then is welcome and even appreciated, but can we please maintain a soundtrack that all Hindi-speaking consumers of Bollywood universally understand?

Of pens and pencils

One of the things that change as you grow up, and progress up the ladder of your third decade on this planet, rather quickly for one's liking- might I add, is the number of trips you make to the stationery store. Today morning, while watching the Republic Day parade after God knows how many years, I again found myself escaping into the past, reminiscing childhood memories. As often happens with such train of thoughts, one led to another, and soon I found myself thinking of the dozens of trips I would have to make to the neighbourhood stationery stores not so long back. Then I tried to think of when was the last time I was there, and I was clueless! When was the last time I bought a pen? Again, Clueless! I somehow always have a couple of them around. But while in school, and even college, the stationery was like a daily pit stop. I would be there every other day, sometimes twice in a single day, because I forgot to get an eraser, or a compass or some other object which now seem like they belong in some other distant world. But then, life revolved around these seemingly miniscule pieces of paper, plastic, and metal. There was always the need for pens, pencils, erasers, sharpeners, geometry sets, maps - physical and political, chart papers, those colorful, shiny rectangular pieces of paper (I cannot recall right now, what were they called!?), ink pots, refills, covers, graph papers, sketch pens, water colors, brushes and a million other things. Children back then were often classified into two rough groups, one who would always have a surplus of these supplies, and those who would always be borrowing them. Oh wait, there would be another kind - the ones who would always have an extra pen, but would blatantly lie in your face that they don't, lest you borrow and never return. Every class always had a 'pen chor'. Half of the stress associated with exams pertained to having adequate stationery supplies. Do I have enough number of sharpened pencils? Will at least one of them hold on for the duration of the exam or the tip would keep breaking off? Does my pen have enough ink? Do I need more refills, should I carry the inkpot, should I risk using an ink pen in the first place? Do I need to carry my own graphs/maps? The stationery shopkeeper was a friend. Friendly familiar face one would see at least 5 times a week. 

Now when I cross those shops, the shopkeeper is the same, he's older, greying, and the teenaged helper of yore now manages the shop for the most part. I often cross, with my hands full of groceries, or vegetables, and have an urge to go the shop and buy something, just for the sake of old times. But do I really need anything from there? My stationery stocks are somehow always magically replenished, the need for them always reducing at an exponential rate. I honestly feel a bit weird when I have to actually write more than a couple of lines with my hands, it looks like a person learning to write with surgically attached arms! (ok, that's last night's episode of Grey's anatomy talking). Writing with hands has become so obsolete, and I am still involved in research and science! I have hardly any use for geometry sets, maps, chart papers and their like, and we all have printers and photocopiers at our workplaces. And worst of all, the stationery shop is not the first place I would run to in event of a friend's birthday, to buy a set of magic markers, sketch pens, a board game, a pack of playing cards, or a snazzy pencil box! Unfortunately those gifts will not cut with it now. Or maybe they will!? Whose birthday is it next? Maybe this nostalgic trip might even save me some money!  

The two faces of hate?

So the nation ushered in the new year on a sombre note, and the first two weeks of 2013 and have been volatile, to say the least. With the entire nation seething with hurt, anger, hopelessness, introspection and a keen desire to change over the 16th December Delhi incident, this year seems to have opened up the Pandora's box with respect to India's problems; from communal clashes in Maharashtra, dirty politics over the Delhi gangrape incident, hate speeches, to tensions along the border, miserable state of affairs on the cricket pitch, and a hostile weather across North India.

With intense outrage and serious debate carrying on for nearly a month now over women's safety in the country, and gender issues in general, one hopes that this incident serves as the inflection point marking the change in the country's psyche, as well as the administration, laws and policing. Its easy to point fingers at the management, but the need of the hour is introspecting and weeding out the flaws in our own attitudes, mending the cracks in the institution of family and marriage, and bringing in systematic changes and awareness so that the future generations are spared of this maligned, rotten and despicable part of our heritage. Education, of course is a key tool in achieving this goal, but the real change on ground level will come when it starts right in the family, for instance when women stop gossiping and pointing fingers at the girl next door for coming late at night in front of their sons, and men start actively teaching them that its not okay to harass a woman and lead by example - right in the household. 

Shoot! I had resolved not to write anything on this issue, as enough has been said and written already, but I guess I couldn't help it. What had bothered me off late was how the whole hate speech issue played out. An MLA from Andhra Pradesh, Akbaruddin Owaisi was under the fire for delivering hate speeches against the Hindu community, and the nation in general. His accusation, the outcry by the principal opposition party, the delay in his arrest and the soft handling of the issue by the state government and police were all issues that drew a lot of media attention. So did another hate speech, which resulted from political opportunism as a fallout of the Delhi incident. The head of a major political party in Maharashtra, blamed people from Bihar for crimes like the Delhi gangrape. This is not the first time his party has attacked North Indians, and more specifically Biharis, even venturing as far as literally attacking aspirants for a Railways exam arriving in the state through trains from North India, as well as autowallahs allegedly hailing from northern states in a separate incident. His comments on this occasion did invite the ire of media, and politicians form Bihar, but that is as far as it went. While Owaisi's speech was of a communal nature, and hence automatically attracted a lot of attention and criticism, regional and ethnocentric parties like this one have constantly tried to agitate and influence people against others of a certain community, state or speaking a different language. However, they rarely invite any political or judicial reprimand or action. They might have been arrested a couple of times, or might have been banned form contesting elections for a period of time, but these are drops in an ocean. They get away by paying measly fines and carry on with their ways.

I wonder, why these double standards when it comes to hate? Is inciting hatred against a religion a bigger crime or in some way, a more morally corrupt offense  than advocating hate against people form a particular region/ethnicity/state? Doesn't our constitution and its preamble denounce both regionalism and religionism in equivocal terms? Then why does one invite instant hue and cry and results in action, even if delayed, while the other just gets swept under the rug after ruffling a few feathers?  One doesn't have to dig deep to find the answer. While religion offers a bigger, stronger vote bank, regional integrity isn't so strong that flaring up these sentiments translates into large scale political gains. Also, it was easy to make Owaisi a convenient scapegoat, as he belongs to a minor party which doesn't hold much influence. But action against these powerful, towering leaders of ethnocentric parties in Maharashtra and other states for that matter, who enjoy massive clout and considerable public support, will definitely amount to a risk, and thus is conveniently ignored. 

There is an urgent need to instill fear into the minds of the people in position, that they can't just get away with saying whatever they want, especially when it causes grievous hurt to even an individual, leave alone a community, or the entire nation for that matter. We have all seen the foot in the mouth complex most of our public figures suffer from in the wake of the Delhi gangrape case, with every other person blurting out his worthless two cents without so much as thinking once as to the meaning and the consequences of their words. And this is a particularly dangerous phenomenon when such figures, whether political, 'spiritual', or in any other public domain, command a following of hundreds of thousands of people in a complex, diverse society like ours. It would serve us a great deal of good, if an example is made out of a few of them with harsh actions and retribution for openly flouting laws, or violating the principles of our constitution. Even better, we all should really start introspecting and take a closer look at who we are raising to such a pedestal.

P.S. - 50th post of this blog to inaugurate the new year!