Beyond the vastness of Mumbai, Delhi, and Delhi lies an India that has defied explanation. People with more sense than me have tried and failed to fix a definition to this India. This India has sometimes shown its face when a small town Indian wins a medal at a sporting event or gets selected for the Cricket team. However this India is largely ignored by the people who are hard at grind in the so called metros. This India reaches out and kicks you in the butt when you step outside the confines of a sealed, artificially cooled cab or the hotel room or the centrally fumigated office block.
That India is still outraged by the scams, the people are essentially decent and live in the mortal fear of losing their dignity. That India gets embarrassed when faced with the guy behind the counter at a Gloria Jeans Coffee shop who asks them what kind of coffee they want. Or the India that shares a idli platter because they cannot fathom why 3 idlis and 5 varieties of chutney would cost Rs 90 when they get the same for Rs 15 back home.
My dad ran away from home to escape a hopeless existence in communist Kerala in 1960s to first Mumbai and then settled down in Pune. He married, had us kids and died a peaceful death. He never adjusted to the big city living, never could understand why we did not want jobs in TELCO or why we were so restless. He I suspect was suspicious of the kind of work me and my sis did at companies that were not names he recognized.
India of the middle class is now threatened.
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My body is somewhere at 8 am in the morning while I am physically at 2 15 in the afternoon. That is the effect of waking up at 3 am to catch at 6 am flight. You might think I am crazy to reach the airport at 4 15 am. I love reaching early and having the airport to myself. It allows me to slow down and enjoy my coffee.
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Here is something I loved reading : Acute Angle by R Sukumar of Mint
I however disagree with R Sukumar when he says that the easiest way to obfuscate the issue of corruption in governance is to highlight corruption in other spheres, and journalists and bankers, the protagonists of this week’s scam, are soft targets.
My take is that finally the murk is out in the open. Many of us suspected all along what the tapes have shown. India is fast becoming like Russia where a few have all the powers. I just wish someone would do a wikileak on all the scams. It would be easy, am sure all the information is available for a price.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
three cities, two movies and one funeral later
In the last 20 days since my last blog post I have driven down to Pune twice, been to Hyderabad and generally moped around Bombay / Mumbai.
Driving down to Pune is like planning to go to war for me. One has to decide the exact time and the route to be able to make it to Pune or back in less than two and a half hours. I start at 6 am mostly and drive like my tail is on fire before the road hogs get onto the roads and cross into Pune by 8 30 in time for breakfast.
Lately however I have been tempted by the Misal Pav served at the Expressway pit stop. Its oily, spicy, acidity inducing and makes me swear that I will never eat it again. I give in to temptation each time. Compared to the MacD and the CCD stuff this is potent, earthy stuff.
____________________________________
My daughter missed Diwali again this year. In her 4 and half years we have seen a death every year. So technically she had celebrated just once when she was a year old. I have promised her that the next year she will be allowed to do what she wants and she will get to do bang bang with fire even if someone else kicks the bucket in the family.
On the way to Pune this year, I was informed about the death of a close relative. Diwali day was spent at the home of the uncle in the company of people I do not really know. It seems I look too alien to be a Malayali and too snooty for people to strike up a conversation. So I sat or stood or leaned around the cars and the chairs and the walls calling people, informing them, arranging for the food for the family.
The food was a very simple gruel of rice accompanied by a vegetable without any spice. The only concession was the mango pickle served as an after thought. Our plan was to have Diwali lunch at home with my in laws. Almost grudgingly I spooned a mouthful and it was brilliant. Maybe it was the ambience, maybe it has to do with the somber atmosphere around the place - death has a way of stupefying people affected. The gruel humbled me, it was nourishing and filling. It did not make me feel sleepy like the festive food would have. I almost never attend events in my family. I cannot bear the politicking and the need for social graces. But this year I have mellowed down to allow people to talk to me. And connect.
____________________________________
26 years ago I used to live in an areas known as Dr Amberkar Colony in Pune. It was built for the followers of the original reformer of India. My neighbours we all Buddhists and most ceremonies started with Dhammam Sharanam Gacchami - the real meaning of which was understood by me much much later. This Diwali, the day after the funeral I travelled back in time. Drove along the roads that were familiar - I used to walk to my school everyday - a distance of 5 Kms. Every little bit has changed - even though there are trees and walls and paths that have survived the concrete mishmash pune is becoming.
What did not change are Rajeev Dubey and Kavita Jain. They studied with me in the graduation years at Wadia College. My milestones of those years have these two along with Swati B and Poonam Ponde scattered in memories - of love and passion and jealousies and anger and despair. Of being blooded into being a Kishore fan, of Asha's voice and growing up. I met the families of Rajeev and Kavita for the first time. The feeling is strange. Of seeing the in between years in the faces of husbands and wives and children. Of not knowing whats protocol with people who have known your worst and best. The 17 years of not being in touch melted away. The years never existed when they sang Kishore - Asha duets.
________________________________________
Hyderabad airport is like home now. No the toilets do not smell of ammonia, the people speak good Hindi and you do not find Biryani stalls at street corners. This is the third city thats becoming close to my heart now. I love the pace and the people in Hyderabad. Will explore the city soon and find the quirks that make it a human place as compared to Mumbai.
__________________________________________
Loved The Social Network and HP7. TSN for the director's ability to take a bad book and make a quote worthy cracker. Will be writing a piece in defense of Mark Z soon for the business blog I write for.
HP has grown up. No more silly brooms and wide eyed wonderment. I plan to start reading Harry Potter Series to Tamara when she is ten. She will be able to enjoy the series before she gets hijacked by something called Twilight or its equivalent when she is 15.
Driving down to Pune is like planning to go to war for me. One has to decide the exact time and the route to be able to make it to Pune or back in less than two and a half hours. I start at 6 am mostly and drive like my tail is on fire before the road hogs get onto the roads and cross into Pune by 8 30 in time for breakfast.
Lately however I have been tempted by the Misal Pav served at the Expressway pit stop. Its oily, spicy, acidity inducing and makes me swear that I will never eat it again. I give in to temptation each time. Compared to the MacD and the CCD stuff this is potent, earthy stuff.
____________________________________
My daughter missed Diwali again this year. In her 4 and half years we have seen a death every year. So technically she had celebrated just once when she was a year old. I have promised her that the next year she will be allowed to do what she wants and she will get to do bang bang with fire even if someone else kicks the bucket in the family.
On the way to Pune this year, I was informed about the death of a close relative. Diwali day was spent at the home of the uncle in the company of people I do not really know. It seems I look too alien to be a Malayali and too snooty for people to strike up a conversation. So I sat or stood or leaned around the cars and the chairs and the walls calling people, informing them, arranging for the food for the family.
The food was a very simple gruel of rice accompanied by a vegetable without any spice. The only concession was the mango pickle served as an after thought. Our plan was to have Diwali lunch at home with my in laws. Almost grudgingly I spooned a mouthful and it was brilliant. Maybe it was the ambience, maybe it has to do with the somber atmosphere around the place - death has a way of stupefying people affected. The gruel humbled me, it was nourishing and filling. It did not make me feel sleepy like the festive food would have. I almost never attend events in my family. I cannot bear the politicking and the need for social graces. But this year I have mellowed down to allow people to talk to me. And connect.
____________________________________
26 years ago I used to live in an areas known as Dr Amberkar Colony in Pune. It was built for the followers of the original reformer of India. My neighbours we all Buddhists and most ceremonies started with Dhammam Sharanam Gacchami - the real meaning of which was understood by me much much later. This Diwali, the day after the funeral I travelled back in time. Drove along the roads that were familiar - I used to walk to my school everyday - a distance of 5 Kms. Every little bit has changed - even though there are trees and walls and paths that have survived the concrete mishmash pune is becoming.
What did not change are Rajeev Dubey and Kavita Jain. They studied with me in the graduation years at Wadia College. My milestones of those years have these two along with Swati B and Poonam Ponde scattered in memories - of love and passion and jealousies and anger and despair. Of being blooded into being a Kishore fan, of Asha's voice and growing up. I met the families of Rajeev and Kavita for the first time. The feeling is strange. Of seeing the in between years in the faces of husbands and wives and children. Of not knowing whats protocol with people who have known your worst and best. The 17 years of not being in touch melted away. The years never existed when they sang Kishore - Asha duets.
________________________________________
Hyderabad airport is like home now. No the toilets do not smell of ammonia, the people speak good Hindi and you do not find Biryani stalls at street corners. This is the third city thats becoming close to my heart now. I love the pace and the people in Hyderabad. Will explore the city soon and find the quirks that make it a human place as compared to Mumbai.
__________________________________________
Loved The Social Network and HP7. TSN for the director's ability to take a bad book and make a quote worthy cracker. Will be writing a piece in defense of Mark Z soon for the business blog I write for.
HP has grown up. No more silly brooms and wide eyed wonderment. I plan to start reading Harry Potter Series to Tamara when she is ten. She will be able to enjoy the series before she gets hijacked by something called Twilight or its equivalent when she is 15.
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