There is a picture of Salman Khan (he is a Bollywood actor, notorious for beating up his girlfriends including Ms World Aishwarya Rai, hunting animals and mowing down people sleeping on footpaths) talking to Congress party’s Unnao candidate in today’s Indian Express.
It repulses me on two accounts.
First, having failed to do much for the state of Uttar Pradesh (where Unnao is), Congress has to fall back on a film star with such maligned credentials. Second, politics in India has become so convoluted that we are compensating our need for leaders and statesmen with filmstars. It is a pathetic irony that ‘real’ social workers for all their flaws go unnoticed while the hits and flops of Bollywood, Tollywood, Mollywood hog attention.
The only thing respectable about the pony-sporting picture of Sallu miya is he has not switched to a khadi pajama kurta avtaar.
The IE article mentions that Shahrukh Khan, Preity Zinta, Govinda and Naghma will also be canvassing for the Congress.
What is Naghma’s claim to fame? If I stretch my memory, I can only recollect a rain song from Yalgaar where she moans and cavorts in Sanjay Dutt’s arms to a sexually explicit song (it happens to be one of my favourites by the way) and ofcourse Ganguly.
Priety Zinta besides doing feel good movies, co-owns an IPL team and is the girl friend of the Wadia scion. Shahrukh Khan is simply King Khan.
Will I vote for Congress just because Shahrukh knocks at my door tomorrow and says pppplsss vote for Congress. Why should I?
Why should I vote for any MLA or MP who has a film star to show off for his or hers five years of work in the constituency?
Congress is not alone in parading film stars at election rallies. The Bachhan family is the star attraction at SP (Samajwadi Party) rallies. As mascots, campaigners and candidates, they have always been exploited for their mass appeal.
Sanjay Dutt , SP’s MP candidate from Lucknow (capital of Uttar Pradesh) is the party’s latest trump card. The man was booked under TADA, has served a considerable jail sentence. If I am not mistaken, he had never set foot in Lucknow earlier.
At the risk of sounding elitist, has an average Indian voter become so dumb that filmstars can be dangled as carrots for votes?
(I read recently that as a sitting Member of Parliament, Govinda did not ask a single question during his tenure as a Congress MP. It is another matter that nor did Mamta di)
You ask me if mafias and criminals can contest why not Sanjay Dutt? Let me give you the stalest of all arguments-for the very reason mafias and gangsters should not.
Why is a clean image and solid credentials no more a criteria for being elected to central and state legislatures in India?
Have we become so inert in our responses that we cannot rise beyond group allegiance and keep such people off our executive institutions? If empowering masses means Dutt, Sallu, Govinda and their ilk stepping up the political ladder then the idea of the people, by the people and by the people needs re-examination.
PS: http://entertainment.oneindia.in/bollywood/features/2009/cine-stars-elections-230309.html
Check this link to know film stars who would be contesting in the elections this time.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Auto ki sawari
Everyday life in India is a series of mini struggles. On a daily basis you work your way through errant maids, leering men, horn mad traffic, jostling crowds, office gossip and if you happen to live in Mumbai or Delhi then auto rickshaw walas.
Boarding a train or a bus and getting down in one piece may test your athleticism but wrangling over the fare before you get into an auto in Delhi or fuming within as you see a tampered metre push up the fare both in Delhi and Mumbai tests your mettle.
I limit myself to the two cities because I have had a chance to experience auto woes anywhere else.
If you choose to pay by the metre in Delhi you are doomed. All geared to haggle over the kiraya (fare), you harden your expressions, look straight at bhaiya’s face and let out a deep, authoritative, "kitne me chaloge?" Bhaiya will quote triple or even five times more than the price. Mostly he will agree to a lower fare. However if it is a group of autos rickshaws waiting for passengers then they are difficult to bring round.
I ended up paying Rs. 45 from Munirka to my campus for an auto ride that by the metre would not had come to more than Rs. 15 back in 2002.
On my first day in Delhi, auto rickshaw drivers asked for Rs. 180-200 for a trip from the New Delhi railway station to my university campus. When I thrust forward the prepaid slip most of them slinked away. In case you are really desperate to cut a cheap deal then get ready to wait while they look for a passenger who would be willing to share the auto rickshaw.
It was always better if one was travelling in a group. Boys especially could outmatch the autowallah in the duel of vocals and rain a few abuses when the latter refused to budge from the exaggerated fare.
A bigger problem in Delhi was that if you are a girl you could never relax in an auto. If you did not end up being fleeced or robbed or even kidnapped in some cases, you are certain to be showered with abuses if you protest against the fare. I cannot generalise or call it every day but living in Delhi you are unlikely to escape it.
Autowallahs in Mumbai on the other hand do not have to be asked "how much?" You bark out the destination, watch the metre, the traffic jam, which route the auto takes, sit back and resign yourself to paying the number that flashes on the metre.
There you do not need to argue over the rates or say where you want to go before you climb in. Autorickshaw community in Mumbai is supposed to be most civil, complying and at your service. However, if you are new to the city and habitually ask, "Andheri station chaloge kya?" then the autowallah might shake his head slightly and speed off. Auto drivers sometimes refuse to go to nearby destinations and do not stop even if you wave to them. And if it is raining, you will realise that money can buy a lot of things but not convince an auto guy to stop for you. Overall Mumbai auto rickshaw drivers are much easier to deal with than their Dilli cousins.
It is a love hate relation. Public transport system in India is so inadequate to handle the sea of humanity that auto rickshaws are a necessity. If fare metres could be made tamper proof, travelling could be much easier and uneventful.
Boarding a train or a bus and getting down in one piece may test your athleticism but wrangling over the fare before you get into an auto in Delhi or fuming within as you see a tampered metre push up the fare both in Delhi and Mumbai tests your mettle.
I limit myself to the two cities because I have had a chance to experience auto woes anywhere else.
If you choose to pay by the metre in Delhi you are doomed. All geared to haggle over the kiraya (fare), you harden your expressions, look straight at bhaiya’s face and let out a deep, authoritative, "kitne me chaloge?" Bhaiya will quote triple or even five times more than the price. Mostly he will agree to a lower fare. However if it is a group of autos rickshaws waiting for passengers then they are difficult to bring round.
I ended up paying Rs. 45 from Munirka to my campus for an auto ride that by the metre would not had come to more than Rs. 15 back in 2002.
On my first day in Delhi, auto rickshaw drivers asked for Rs. 180-200 for a trip from the New Delhi railway station to my university campus. When I thrust forward the prepaid slip most of them slinked away. In case you are really desperate to cut a cheap deal then get ready to wait while they look for a passenger who would be willing to share the auto rickshaw.
It was always better if one was travelling in a group. Boys especially could outmatch the autowallah in the duel of vocals and rain a few abuses when the latter refused to budge from the exaggerated fare.
A bigger problem in Delhi was that if you are a girl you could never relax in an auto. If you did not end up being fleeced or robbed or even kidnapped in some cases, you are certain to be showered with abuses if you protest against the fare. I cannot generalise or call it every day but living in Delhi you are unlikely to escape it.
Autowallahs in Mumbai on the other hand do not have to be asked "how much?" You bark out the destination, watch the metre, the traffic jam, which route the auto takes, sit back and resign yourself to paying the number that flashes on the metre.
There you do not need to argue over the rates or say where you want to go before you climb in. Autorickshaw community in Mumbai is supposed to be most civil, complying and at your service. However, if you are new to the city and habitually ask, "Andheri station chaloge kya?" then the autowallah might shake his head slightly and speed off. Auto drivers sometimes refuse to go to nearby destinations and do not stop even if you wave to them. And if it is raining, you will realise that money can buy a lot of things but not convince an auto guy to stop for you. Overall Mumbai auto rickshaw drivers are much easier to deal with than their Dilli cousins.
It is a love hate relation. Public transport system in India is so inadequate to handle the sea of humanity that auto rickshaws are a necessity. If fare metres could be made tamper proof, travelling could be much easier and uneventful.
PS: There has been a massive influx of North Indians especially from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar into Mumbai. The Shiv Sena’s and lately Raj Thackeray’s tirade against North Indians for spoiling Mumbai culture has partial roots in the changing face of auto rickshaw community in the city. It is alleged by many (and sometime I agree) that bhaiyas have brought in brusqueness to Mumbai’s Maharashtrian fabric (please don’t bay for my blood) In spite of the headaches they cause, true blooded Mumbaikars (if that is a credible term) cannot do without them.
Photo courtsey: www.dgrin.com/showthread.php?t=107102
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Kissa IPL ka
BCCI (Board of Control for Cricket in India) is a powerful entity I am given to understand. It is made powerful by the money it earns when millions of cricket crazy men (women and children) turn on their television sets.
(So if the Aussies dare to nudge back another BCCI chief, hell would have no fury like the Indian board)
BCCI hit on another golden goose with the brilliant (still not sure) concept of Twenty-Twenty matches that had even not-interested ones like me hooked.
Rewind back to 2008...
Twenty-Twenty cricket turned out to be as much of a potboiler as a game.
Like following the antics of Big Boss inmates, one watched with curiosity if sparks flied between Ganguly and Ponting. The idea of national teams pitted against each other got messed up totally. I was glued at times not to the game but facial expressions and body languages of Dhoni, Harbhajan and Sehwag who sweated it out like warring family members in an Ekta Kapoor serial. Sreesanth and Harbhajan added chutzpah to the gentlemen’s game. For all his on-field bashing of Indian batsmen, one could not but fall for Shane Warne. My heart went all out to Adam Gilchrist as Deccan Chargers kept on losing.
Fast forward to 2009...
IPL has been shifted to South Africa. Its coincidence with general elections in India has heightened the security threat perception. Following the Mumbai attacks and SriLankan cricket team’s tryst with death in Pakistan, few would be willing to take chances. And why not?
If India’s past records are anything to go by, it is clear that security and intelligence agencies despite all their love for the nation, fail when it comes to detecting young men in jeans and t-shirts running across city roads with kilos of ammunition in their backpacks.
Mumbai attacks are nearly passe. Except Kasab and dangling proof at Pakistan, the Indian government has not delivered much in terms of answers, counter-action and preemption measures. Atleast that is what a laywoman like me thinks.
Two key improvisations were expected in the modus operandi of India’s security forces after they were caught unawares in Kargil and Mumbai. Training in high mountain counter-insurgency operations was realised to be essential for the Indian army after Kargil. (I recently read on a blog that terrorists/insurgents in Kashmir have better night vision gear that the Indian soldiers)
Mumbai attacks bared the need for better training and coordination among paramilitary forces responsible for internal security. (Did you read about the Kashmir police under cover cop who was arrested for supplying sim cards used by the gunmen in Mumbai? It was a blunder that blew off months of hard work by the Kashmir police to infiltrate a militant group)
Coming back to the IPL, many of my brethren and behens back home are losing sleep over why the event has been shifted out of the country. The issue almost snowballed into a political seesaw between the two bigwigs of Indian politics.
Though Lalit Modi may seem to be on a personal vendetta, his decision appears to be wise. If a single bullet is fired or a noise heard during any of the matches, foreign cricketers will pack off immediately. India will be branded as dangerous and cricket teams would tick off South Asia from their itineraries for a long time.
Could the BCCI afford this?
In India, terrorism and terrorists have become as ‘every-day’ as robberies, murders and kaccha-baniyan groups in smaller cities.
You may not die of cancer or be hit by a car but you might step on a listless tiffin box and be blown to so many pieces that your family may only manage to find your little finger to cremate.
Few years ago, on the day when a bomb exploded in the Sarojini Nagar market in New Delhi, I happened to have deferred my morning visit to the market and decided to go in the evening instead. I have had brushes with death but then I could see it coming and sparing me by millimetres and degrees. But being blown off in the middle of a sentence, a transaction or while gulping down a puchka?
If a country cannot handle two mega events simultaneously (I wonder how will they ever bid for the Olympics) it is good that IPL moves to foreign shores. It spares all of us some more anxiety, fear and grief.
(So if the Aussies dare to nudge back another BCCI chief, hell would have no fury like the Indian board)
BCCI hit on another golden goose with the brilliant (still not sure) concept of Twenty-Twenty matches that had even not-interested ones like me hooked.
Rewind back to 2008...
Twenty-Twenty cricket turned out to be as much of a potboiler as a game.
Like following the antics of Big Boss inmates, one watched with curiosity if sparks flied between Ganguly and Ponting. The idea of national teams pitted against each other got messed up totally. I was glued at times not to the game but facial expressions and body languages of Dhoni, Harbhajan and Sehwag who sweated it out like warring family members in an Ekta Kapoor serial. Sreesanth and Harbhajan added chutzpah to the gentlemen’s game. For all his on-field bashing of Indian batsmen, one could not but fall for Shane Warne. My heart went all out to Adam Gilchrist as Deccan Chargers kept on losing.
Fast forward to 2009...
IPL has been shifted to South Africa. Its coincidence with general elections in India has heightened the security threat perception. Following the Mumbai attacks and SriLankan cricket team’s tryst with death in Pakistan, few would be willing to take chances. And why not?
If India’s past records are anything to go by, it is clear that security and intelligence agencies despite all their love for the nation, fail when it comes to detecting young men in jeans and t-shirts running across city roads with kilos of ammunition in their backpacks.
Mumbai attacks are nearly passe. Except Kasab and dangling proof at Pakistan, the Indian government has not delivered much in terms of answers, counter-action and preemption measures. Atleast that is what a laywoman like me thinks.
Two key improvisations were expected in the modus operandi of India’s security forces after they were caught unawares in Kargil and Mumbai. Training in high mountain counter-insurgency operations was realised to be essential for the Indian army after Kargil. (I recently read on a blog that terrorists/insurgents in Kashmir have better night vision gear that the Indian soldiers)
Mumbai attacks bared the need for better training and coordination among paramilitary forces responsible for internal security. (Did you read about the Kashmir police under cover cop who was arrested for supplying sim cards used by the gunmen in Mumbai? It was a blunder that blew off months of hard work by the Kashmir police to infiltrate a militant group)
Coming back to the IPL, many of my brethren and behens back home are losing sleep over why the event has been shifted out of the country. The issue almost snowballed into a political seesaw between the two bigwigs of Indian politics.
Though Lalit Modi may seem to be on a personal vendetta, his decision appears to be wise. If a single bullet is fired or a noise heard during any of the matches, foreign cricketers will pack off immediately. India will be branded as dangerous and cricket teams would tick off South Asia from their itineraries for a long time.
Could the BCCI afford this?
In India, terrorism and terrorists have become as ‘every-day’ as robberies, murders and kaccha-baniyan groups in smaller cities.
You may not die of cancer or be hit by a car but you might step on a listless tiffin box and be blown to so many pieces that your family may only manage to find your little finger to cremate.
Few years ago, on the day when a bomb exploded in the Sarojini Nagar market in New Delhi, I happened to have deferred my morning visit to the market and decided to go in the evening instead. I have had brushes with death but then I could see it coming and sparing me by millimetres and degrees. But being blown off in the middle of a sentence, a transaction or while gulping down a puchka?
If a country cannot handle two mega events simultaneously (I wonder how will they ever bid for the Olympics) it is good that IPL moves to foreign shores. It spares all of us some more anxiety, fear and grief.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Existential?
A friend forwarded this to poem to me. It is simple yet full of meaning…
GIRLS IN MY CIRCLE
When I was little,
I used to believe in the concept of one best friend,
And then I started to become a woman.
And then I found out that if you allow your heart to open up,
God would show you the best in many friends.
One friend is needed when you're going through things with your man.
Another friend is needed when you're going through things with your mom.
Another will sit beside you in the bleachers as you delight in your children
and their activities.
Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke, or just be.
One friend will say, 'Let's cry together,'
Another , 'Let's fight together,'
Another , 'Let's walk away together.'
One friend will meet your spiritual need,
Another your shoe fetish,
Another your love for movies,
Another will be with you in your season of confusion,
Another will be your clarifier,
Another the wind beneath your wings.
But whatever their assignment in your life,
On whatever the occasion,
On whatever the day,
Or wherever you need them to meet you with their gym shoes on and hair
pulled back,
Or to hold you back from making a complete fool of yourself ..
Those are your best friends.
It may all be wrapped up in one woman, But for many, it's wrapped up in
several..
One from 7th grade,
One from high school,
Several from the college years,
a couple from old jobs,
On some days your mother,
On some days your neighbor,
On others, your sisters,
And on some days, your daughters.
So whether they've been your friend for 20 minutes or 20 years,
…God has placed (them) in your life…
To make a difference.
Thanks for being in my circle.
...It is comforting to know that one has many friends simply because the same person may not be a partner in all your crimes. Like a dress for every occasion and a different knife for each course of meal, a friend to indulge in every mood is needed.
A soulmate may not understand your sudden fetish for red nail polish. Your silver coloured shoes and blue mascara may perplex a friend who likes to talk about aesthetics and serious stuff. Another is a movie freak like you but balks at anything more cerebral than chicken soup for soul.
There are spiritual types you rush to when a tragedy (you know I am so fed up of life) strikes. One of your friends shares your love for Ghazals and Cohen but cannot groove at Govinda's songs. Aasha is good to go to Khana Khazana but Sasha is needed to unwind in Lan Kwai Fong. I go to A to share my feminist rant but callup B to drown my maid blues.
Someone I know once told me how she had lately become asocial but back home she had friends to go out for coffee, to shop, to talk…but then it depresses someone like me who has to try very hard to get talking and open up to other people.
GIRLS IN MY CIRCLE
When I was little,
I used to believe in the concept of one best friend,
And then I started to become a woman.
And then I found out that if you allow your heart to open up,
God would show you the best in many friends.
One friend is needed when you're going through things with your man.
Another friend is needed when you're going through things with your mom.
Another will sit beside you in the bleachers as you delight in your children
and their activities.
Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke, or just be.
One friend will say, 'Let's cry together,'
Another , 'Let's fight together,'
Another , 'Let's walk away together.'
One friend will meet your spiritual need,
Another your shoe fetish,
Another your love for movies,
Another will be with you in your season of confusion,
Another will be your clarifier,
Another the wind beneath your wings.
But whatever their assignment in your life,
On whatever the occasion,
On whatever the day,
Or wherever you need them to meet you with their gym shoes on and hair
pulled back,
Or to hold you back from making a complete fool of yourself ..
Those are your best friends.
It may all be wrapped up in one woman, But for many, it's wrapped up in
several..
One from 7th grade,
One from high school,
Several from the college years,
a couple from old jobs,
On some days your mother,
On some days your neighbor,
On others, your sisters,
And on some days, your daughters.
So whether they've been your friend for 20 minutes or 20 years,
…God has placed (them) in your life…
To make a difference.
Thanks for being in my circle.
...It is comforting to know that one has many friends simply because the same person may not be a partner in all your crimes. Like a dress for every occasion and a different knife for each course of meal, a friend to indulge in every mood is needed.
A soulmate may not understand your sudden fetish for red nail polish. Your silver coloured shoes and blue mascara may perplex a friend who likes to talk about aesthetics and serious stuff. Another is a movie freak like you but balks at anything more cerebral than chicken soup for soul.
There are spiritual types you rush to when a tragedy (you know I am so fed up of life) strikes. One of your friends shares your love for Ghazals and Cohen but cannot groove at Govinda's songs. Aasha is good to go to Khana Khazana but Sasha is needed to unwind in Lan Kwai Fong. I go to A to share my feminist rant but callup B to drown my maid blues.
Someone I know once told me how she had lately become asocial but back home she had friends to go out for coffee, to shop, to talk…but then it depresses someone like me who has to try very hard to get talking and open up to other people.
Friday, March 20, 2009
When do you know Hong Kong has been hit by recession?
A randon observation-
- House rents have FALLEN down (but not crashed)
- The shopping mall in Times Square is empty (and deserted by HK standards) on weekends nowadays
- People are no longer queuing outside Louis Vouitton to window shop
- I call up my salon and get an appointment for the same day (surprise)
- Outlets like Wanko are offering 70 per cent discount almost two months after CNY ( quality of clothes though is bad)
- Pacific Coffee in IFC looks deserted during lunch
- Getting into the Metro at 8:15 am has become easier (debatable)
- A female colleague showed no interest in ‘only HKD 10,000’ hand bag (I made this up but women in HK are known for their thriftiness)
- A roundtrip from Hong Kong to India costs less than HKD 4,000/person (Jet airways is allowing an extra 10 kilo of luggage says a friend)
From the ladies community…
- Travel agents offer you packages at prices which stun u... too good to be true? Only time will tell!
- Less work in office & can leave at 6 pm
- People are interested in buying property to take advantage of the CRASHED real estate market!
- People visiting our firm to find ways on securing or safe guarding whats left than investing!
- Hiring is frozen, layoff big time and existing employees are overloaded with work
Receptionists and secretaries are fired and 2 floors of office space are crammed into one - Sometimes when my shop is not packed with ppl even on week ends (Rachna owns a Subway outlet in TST)
- Parents are defaulting big time paying the school fees and eventually having less children per class
- Can check and reply to emails, unlimited browsing on the net, chat with friends both online and over the phone and much more that too at WORK can u believe that... Business has almost come to a stand still
- Jan 2008: You call Dimpy (the lunchwala) at 10 am for a lunch to be delivered and he says, "boss if you need lunch, please call me before 9.30am." Jan 2009: Dimpy calls you at 10.30 am, saying "Sir, aaj lunch bhej doon ?"
Thursday, March 19, 2009
If they look similar do they act similar?
I think Iftikhar Chaudhry bears a strong resemblance to Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq and that makes me uneasy. I will have to dust away the cobwebs from my MA days to recollect how popular or unpopular Zia was before he came to power. Was he a hero before he turned into a villain?
The way Mr Chaudhry is going, chances are that he is Pakistan’s next leader and even dictator in making…(You want to hit me on the head and shoo me off from my line of argument? This is my space and I will doodle as I wish. So you stay put and listen to me day dreaming at work. When I should be thinking ships, my mind is wandering off to more action packed stuff).
…Asif Zardari is failing as a leader. If he intends to continue as a spineless state head, I think it is better that he goes. I wonder why did he not ever eavesdrop on Benazir’s satta ki baatein and learn some moves.
Atleast Musharraf was smarter. He pulled off a deal with the Americans and raked in money. Zardari accommodated the Talibans, compromised with Sharif, reinstated Chaudhry and he may have to run away from the country again (if he hasn’t already).
Looking at the state of affairs, political uncertainty is likely to persist in Pakistan for some time…
(And what did fellow cityman Sandeep Pandey have to say in his ruminations on his trip to Pakistan published by Tehelka -A solution on Kashmir has been worked out according to a former Pakistan government representative. If not for the events in Pakistan and now the general elections in India, Manmohan Singh would had visited Pakistan and made the announcement. HAHAHAHA)
…Talibans are ruling defacto in Afghanistan and NWFP, Kayani as expected has stepped into the fray, Chaudhry, the golden boy of democracy is back to Supreme Court and Mr Sharif has sunk his teeth deeper into the pie called premiership.
By the way, Sharif says he does not recall suicide bombers blowing off people in his governance. Ahem, I remember a long bloody painful phase called Kargil. I remember Captain Vikram Batra and I remember pondering-why do nations go to war (I could have had the answer later but I decided to go astray and bunk classes).
Talking about Pakistan and Mr Chaudhry takes me back to a post I wrote on the country’s correlation to my maid woes (Go read it).
After writing it, I have been thinking about how India stands in the middle of an unstable region-A coup of sorts in Bangladesh, an absconding head of the state in Pakistan, a war torn Sri Lanka, Nepal struggling to find foot post-monarchy, Maldives taking baby steps towards a democratic era and Bhutan calm but coming to terms with its new identity.
India is like a weary sentinel watching over this delicate geopolitical landscape (does this smack of big brother syndrome?)
Though it has not escaped any of its neigbours’ plagues, it stands with all the strapping of a steady state. I wonder what prevents the Indian army to aspire for power, what makes its democracy tick despite lumpens milking politics dry and what keeps tolerance alive despite its proneness to riot.
I will worry over the fevicol that keeps the country glued later. Till then I will try keeping a tab on Mr Chaudhry.
PS: Prime Minister Gilani has vowed to snip off Presidential powers and restore earlier priviliges to the Parliament.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123739962780174043.html?mod=article-outset-box
The way Mr Chaudhry is going, chances are that he is Pakistan’s next leader and even dictator in making…(You want to hit me on the head and shoo me off from my line of argument? This is my space and I will doodle as I wish. So you stay put and listen to me day dreaming at work. When I should be thinking ships, my mind is wandering off to more action packed stuff).
…Asif Zardari is failing as a leader. If he intends to continue as a spineless state head, I think it is better that he goes. I wonder why did he not ever eavesdrop on Benazir’s satta ki baatein and learn some moves.
Atleast Musharraf was smarter. He pulled off a deal with the Americans and raked in money. Zardari accommodated the Talibans, compromised with Sharif, reinstated Chaudhry and he may have to run away from the country again (if he hasn’t already).
Looking at the state of affairs, political uncertainty is likely to persist in Pakistan for some time…
(And what did fellow cityman Sandeep Pandey have to say in his ruminations on his trip to Pakistan published by Tehelka -A solution on Kashmir has been worked out according to a former Pakistan government representative. If not for the events in Pakistan and now the general elections in India, Manmohan Singh would had visited Pakistan and made the announcement. HAHAHAHA)
…Talibans are ruling defacto in Afghanistan and NWFP, Kayani as expected has stepped into the fray, Chaudhry, the golden boy of democracy is back to Supreme Court and Mr Sharif has sunk his teeth deeper into the pie called premiership.
By the way, Sharif says he does not recall suicide bombers blowing off people in his governance. Ahem, I remember a long bloody painful phase called Kargil. I remember Captain Vikram Batra and I remember pondering-why do nations go to war (I could have had the answer later but I decided to go astray and bunk classes).
Talking about Pakistan and Mr Chaudhry takes me back to a post I wrote on the country’s correlation to my maid woes (Go read it).
After writing it, I have been thinking about how India stands in the middle of an unstable region-A coup of sorts in Bangladesh, an absconding head of the state in Pakistan, a war torn Sri Lanka, Nepal struggling to find foot post-monarchy, Maldives taking baby steps towards a democratic era and Bhutan calm but coming to terms with its new identity.
India is like a weary sentinel watching over this delicate geopolitical landscape (does this smack of big brother syndrome?)
Though it has not escaped any of its neigbours’ plagues, it stands with all the strapping of a steady state. I wonder what prevents the Indian army to aspire for power, what makes its democracy tick despite lumpens milking politics dry and what keeps tolerance alive despite its proneness to riot.
I will worry over the fevicol that keeps the country glued later. Till then I will try keeping a tab on Mr Chaudhry.
PS: Prime Minister Gilani has vowed to snip off Presidential powers and restore earlier priviliges to the Parliament.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123739962780174043.html?mod=article-outset-box
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Et tu Varun?
Varun Gandhi is suddenly in news for his anti-Muslim rambunctiousness at a pre-election rally in Pilibhit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1w1GupAvnU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FKPFweGbRY
I expected him to do better than spewing communal vitriol for publicity.
If Behenji had spoken such, I would had pursed my lips in disgust and dismissed it as a menopausing woman’s cacophony. But she is smarter.
She is so smart that her foot soldiers are drawn from all over the bahujan samaj, her party sidekick happens to be an upper caste man who even shakes a leg on her birthdays and her party men kill government officers who refuse to send monetary gifts to her.
But this is a 29-year-old guy with a star-studded lineage, best of education (or not), lots of exposure and a book of poems to his credit. He is a face I would have expected Tehelka to feature in its political young Turks section.
Tch tch…
PS: I have lately grown sensitive to all that ‘minority’ denotes. I live in a country err... an autonomous city state where I am in minority despite a 30,000 plus Indian population.
I look different, my food is different, my beliefs are different, my accent is different and I smell different. The owner of one of the apartments we liked refused to rent it to us because of our nationality. I have heard of people who hold their noses when an Indian walks by.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1w1GupAvnU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FKPFweGbRY
I expected him to do better than spewing communal vitriol for publicity.
If Behenji had spoken such, I would had pursed my lips in disgust and dismissed it as a menopausing woman’s cacophony. But she is smarter.
She is so smart that her foot soldiers are drawn from all over the bahujan samaj, her party sidekick happens to be an upper caste man who even shakes a leg on her birthdays and her party men kill government officers who refuse to send monetary gifts to her.
But this is a 29-year-old guy with a star-studded lineage, best of education (or not), lots of exposure and a book of poems to his credit. He is a face I would have expected Tehelka to feature in its political young Turks section.
Tch tch…
PS: I have lately grown sensitive to all that ‘minority’ denotes. I live in a country err... an autonomous city state where I am in minority despite a 30,000 plus Indian population.
I look different, my food is different, my beliefs are different, my accent is different and I smell different. The owner of one of the apartments we liked refused to rent it to us because of our nationality. I have heard of people who hold their noses when an Indian walks by.
I have noticed discreet exchange of glances when a beautiful girl in an Indian dress or an unstylish outfit by HK standards walks by. I have heard of pork eating people who can’t bear the heady smell of spices stewing in an Indian household.
Though such incidents are few, they trigger a sense of alienation.
This is my home away from home and I have put a bit of my soul into it. Though I live on the fringes of the society here, I am very much a part of it.
And what if I was to return to India some day only to be told by a wannabe zealot to go back because I no more confirm to Indianness?
Though such incidents are few, they trigger a sense of alienation.
This is my home away from home and I have put a bit of my soul into it. Though I live on the fringes of the society here, I am very much a part of it.
And what if I was to return to India some day only to be told by a wannabe zealot to go back because I no more confirm to Indianness?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Dog of the Year
Slumdog Millionaire has been true to its name. It has created winners out of dogs who would otherwise be remembered as '‘also barked’.
Freida Pinto and Dev Patel are all over.
Pinto has a blog covering her every dress, fashion faux pas and interview. Dev Patel is likely to crossover from British telecom to global cinema soon. I hope they do not make a Tintin with him in the lead next. I also pray that he does not become the new LBHC (London Born Hindi Confused) face of Bollywood.
The kids from Dharavi have a face, are sought out by ex parents and movie directors, have a bank balance and hopefully a promising future when they turn 18.
Interestingly, despite the best movie Oscar, SM did not rake in any awards in the acting category. But then SM is an example of what hype can achieve.
Does anyone remember that AR Rahman was the music director of Lagaan. The richness and the diversity in his music went unnoticed then. The movie was as rich in dog value as SM is. It was as Indian as SM is.
Lagaan lost but SM won. It won over heavyweights like Milk, Benjamin Button and Revolutionary road.
What made the movie click was its foreign producers and global publicity (Aamir Khan has been quick to realise what marketing can achieve since his Oscar days)
The movie also capitalised on the underdog flavour of this season- Obama has won despite his blackness and Michelle is the new diva at the White House, Mumbai persevered in the face of attacks and people worldwide are living on despite the downturn and layoffs. I think this is what made a regular Bollywood masala stewed to phoren tastes clinch the top awards this year.
What I wish the movie had achieved was that it brought down dogmas attached to Indianness. It made the white, browns and blacks of the world more accepting of turbaned men and salwar kurta clad mommies around the world.
PS: Many Indians have taken offence to the dirt, poverty and dog-eats-dog undertone of the movie. But why the anger?
It is true that the image of Jamal as a kid jumping into shit to meet Amitabh Bachhan will be added to the lore of snake men, elephants and rivers of milk.
But then do we not have a metropolitan called Mumbai interspersed by Dharavi, middle class slums and concrete slums where bomb blasts, terrorist attacks, floods and riots are as common as in any slum of the world.
Let us live with it.
Freida Pinto and Dev Patel are all over.
Pinto has a blog covering her every dress, fashion faux pas and interview. Dev Patel is likely to crossover from British telecom to global cinema soon. I hope they do not make a Tintin with him in the lead next. I also pray that he does not become the new LBHC (London Born Hindi Confused) face of Bollywood.
The kids from Dharavi have a face, are sought out by ex parents and movie directors, have a bank balance and hopefully a promising future when they turn 18.
Interestingly, despite the best movie Oscar, SM did not rake in any awards in the acting category. But then SM is an example of what hype can achieve.
Does anyone remember that AR Rahman was the music director of Lagaan. The richness and the diversity in his music went unnoticed then. The movie was as rich in dog value as SM is. It was as Indian as SM is.
Lagaan lost but SM won. It won over heavyweights like Milk, Benjamin Button and Revolutionary road.
What made the movie click was its foreign producers and global publicity (Aamir Khan has been quick to realise what marketing can achieve since his Oscar days)
The movie also capitalised on the underdog flavour of this season- Obama has won despite his blackness and Michelle is the new diva at the White House, Mumbai persevered in the face of attacks and people worldwide are living on despite the downturn and layoffs. I think this is what made a regular Bollywood masala stewed to phoren tastes clinch the top awards this year.
What I wish the movie had achieved was that it brought down dogmas attached to Indianness. It made the white, browns and blacks of the world more accepting of turbaned men and salwar kurta clad mommies around the world.
PS: Many Indians have taken offence to the dirt, poverty and dog-eats-dog undertone of the movie. But why the anger?
It is true that the image of Jamal as a kid jumping into shit to meet Amitabh Bachhan will be added to the lore of snake men, elephants and rivers of milk.
But then do we not have a metropolitan called Mumbai interspersed by Dharavi, middle class slums and concrete slums where bomb blasts, terrorist attacks, floods and riots are as common as in any slum of the world.
Let us live with it.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Wanchai bargirls
Walking down to the station after work, I usually cross a couple of bars where young girls in make up and skimpy clothes sit at the doors looking expectantly and hungrily at any light complexioned male crossing by.
This is the brightest spot of my day away from home.
An interesting observation about these bars besides the unsexy women (I know I am mean but I realise that often what turns on a man looking for street thrills is only a willing female with a vagina) are the small square altars of worship, I see outside.
I have never had the chance to see what an average Hong Kong household looks like. But going by the pace of life and congested spaces, it is unlikely that a place of worship finds a corner in most homes. However, most of the bars between the MTR station and my workplace have an altar cut into the wall.
They are well cared for and generally adorned with fruit offerings and incense sticks. Seeing them next to the bars, adds another speck of grey to my salt and pepper hair.
It reminds me of a scene from Devdas. A handful of mud from a prostitute's house is well sought for sculpting Ma Durga's statue but the idea of a loose woman in one's house or nearby is sacrilege.
It also reminds me of a rickshaw ride I took years ago with a friend from old Delhi Railway station to CP. We crossed GT Road and it was in no way as glitzy as red light areas in Indian movies.
There were dirty corridors full of charas stupored men and prying women in garish makeup. Their eyes flitted around, sizing the potential of every man passing by.
I have often thought about that day and tried to imagine what it must be like to serve a truck driver or a rickshaw puller-bad breathed, smelly, in dirty clothes, swearing and with no heart for a woman's pain.
As I write, I also remember a you-tube video of a police raid at a hideout for minor girls being readied for flesh trade. It was a dark place and as the girls were shoved out, they looked like rats being pulled out of a hole.
What I remind myself when I walk past those girls in Wanchai is that I have my clothes on, I have a man, my parents, a pimple free face, a roof and endless possibilities ahead. Though I am about to turn 28, I am not worried that my fatness and wrinkles will reduce my chances to do good business.
Yet I crib, look glum and regret over what I missed and let go.
There is no limit to the way a human being can be tortured. And there is no end to the souls' perseverance.
It is not necessary that the choices we make our always our own. And chances are that the best efforts to see a silver lining may be too big a flight for heart and hope to make.
I look forward to the girls in red, in yellow, in black, all made up and putting their best selves forward to learn a lesson of courage, moving on, living for the moment and relishing what I have.
This is the brightest spot of my day away from home.
An interesting observation about these bars besides the unsexy women (I know I am mean but I realise that often what turns on a man looking for street thrills is only a willing female with a vagina) are the small square altars of worship, I see outside.
I have never had the chance to see what an average Hong Kong household looks like. But going by the pace of life and congested spaces, it is unlikely that a place of worship finds a corner in most homes. However, most of the bars between the MTR station and my workplace have an altar cut into the wall.
They are well cared for and generally adorned with fruit offerings and incense sticks. Seeing them next to the bars, adds another speck of grey to my salt and pepper hair.
It reminds me of a scene from Devdas. A handful of mud from a prostitute's house is well sought for sculpting Ma Durga's statue but the idea of a loose woman in one's house or nearby is sacrilege.
It also reminds me of a rickshaw ride I took years ago with a friend from old Delhi Railway station to CP. We crossed GT Road and it was in no way as glitzy as red light areas in Indian movies.
There were dirty corridors full of charas stupored men and prying women in garish makeup. Their eyes flitted around, sizing the potential of every man passing by.
I have often thought about that day and tried to imagine what it must be like to serve a truck driver or a rickshaw puller-bad breathed, smelly, in dirty clothes, swearing and with no heart for a woman's pain.
As I write, I also remember a you-tube video of a police raid at a hideout for minor girls being readied for flesh trade. It was a dark place and as the girls were shoved out, they looked like rats being pulled out of a hole.
What I remind myself when I walk past those girls in Wanchai is that I have my clothes on, I have a man, my parents, a pimple free face, a roof and endless possibilities ahead. Though I am about to turn 28, I am not worried that my fatness and wrinkles will reduce my chances to do good business.
Yet I crib, look glum and regret over what I missed and let go.
There is no limit to the way a human being can be tortured. And there is no end to the souls' perseverance.
It is not necessary that the choices we make our always our own. And chances are that the best efforts to see a silver lining may be too big a flight for heart and hope to make.
I look forward to the girls in red, in yellow, in black, all made up and putting their best selves forward to learn a lesson of courage, moving on, living for the moment and relishing what I have.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
To my neighbour
I casually joked with my friend yesterday, "who the hell employs Pakistani maids these days?"
An innocent snide remark, it well reflects the suspicion, distrust and fear associated with anything and everything from Pakistan.
Though it is unfair to brand people for their government’s actions, I wonder if the collective psyche of people in Pakistan has remained free from the grip of jihadi ideologues and terror’s advocates.
To be corrupt is one thing but to be willing to let grow a poison that bit by bit kills the basics of an ordinary life is not acceptable.
Pakistan’s government recently allowed the imposition of Sharia in NWFP to buy peace with the Taliban who have become a powerful entity in the fringe regions of the country.
(http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/7891955.stm)
Why does a country that has witnessed more military coups than democratic elections in its small life, lacks the will and means to impose (if not create) peace?
What qualifies a state as sovereign, if its government has to depend upon an external, non-state agency to ensure that its borders remain peaceful? What proof there is that a power hungry, mercenary group seeking legitimacy through religion will not turnaround on its democratic and liberal ethos?
I wonder what will happen to Fatimah Bhutto who is rumoured to be dating George Clooney once the Taliban gain foot in the country. For that matter, what will be the fate of all insha-allah mouthing cricketers and the holier than thou army wives and daughters parading as academic intelligentsia.
Will Lahore’s vibrancy survive the moral policing of a Taliban style government? Will the clean- and bareheaded ‘strings’ still be crooning dooor…dooor? Will generation X/Y/Z survive or a Benazir Bhutto ever helm Pakistan’s politics and what about Meera?
(http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=2009%5C01%5C03%5Cstory_3-1-2009_pg7_1)
These are serious questions. Their answers will determine if future American governments will or will not raze down Pakistan. The number of body bags arriving home all over India too will depend on which way Pakistan goes.
Wake up, before it is a fatwa that shakes you out of your slumber. Do not concede your hard won freedom to the peddlers of a hate religion. And let us not give any one a chance to drive us back to where we started.
I am a peace loving Indian and wish hell to all those who disturb the ordinary pace of my life. I don’t care about religion, politics and Siachen in the larger scheme of things. But if foreign sportsmen can be targeted despite ignoring the collective fear of the cricket community to play in one of the most cricket crazy countries, I am unsure if I will be willing to ignore the petty politics of colour, race and nationality when the next prospective maid gives me a call.
(PS: If you think that living in a glass house (note the glass was imported from some place in China) I should not be expressing my opinion on my neighbour’s mess, you are correct.
When I made that comment to my friend, I got thinking how we come to generalise incidents, accidents and experiences. I have often been a part of the drawing room talk of Muslims being zealots who pray five times a day and don’t wince when they kill an animal or a human being. In Hong Kong, I have sensed unsaid opinions on Indians.
Being conditioned by what we see is an integral part of who we are and however hard we try to sit on the fence we end up painting the fence either black or white)
PS II: I picked the links from a blog I read regularly
An innocent snide remark, it well reflects the suspicion, distrust and fear associated with anything and everything from Pakistan.
Though it is unfair to brand people for their government’s actions, I wonder if the collective psyche of people in Pakistan has remained free from the grip of jihadi ideologues and terror’s advocates.
To be corrupt is one thing but to be willing to let grow a poison that bit by bit kills the basics of an ordinary life is not acceptable.
Pakistan’s government recently allowed the imposition of Sharia in NWFP to buy peace with the Taliban who have become a powerful entity in the fringe regions of the country.
(http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/7891955.stm)
Why does a country that has witnessed more military coups than democratic elections in its small life, lacks the will and means to impose (if not create) peace?
What qualifies a state as sovereign, if its government has to depend upon an external, non-state agency to ensure that its borders remain peaceful? What proof there is that a power hungry, mercenary group seeking legitimacy through religion will not turnaround on its democratic and liberal ethos?
I wonder what will happen to Fatimah Bhutto who is rumoured to be dating George Clooney once the Taliban gain foot in the country. For that matter, what will be the fate of all insha-allah mouthing cricketers and the holier than thou army wives and daughters parading as academic intelligentsia.
Will Lahore’s vibrancy survive the moral policing of a Taliban style government? Will the clean- and bareheaded ‘strings’ still be crooning dooor…dooor? Will generation X/Y/Z survive or a Benazir Bhutto ever helm Pakistan’s politics and what about Meera?
(http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=2009%5C01%5C03%5Cstory_3-1-2009_pg7_1)
These are serious questions. Their answers will determine if future American governments will or will not raze down Pakistan. The number of body bags arriving home all over India too will depend on which way Pakistan goes.
Wake up, before it is a fatwa that shakes you out of your slumber. Do not concede your hard won freedom to the peddlers of a hate religion. And let us not give any one a chance to drive us back to where we started.
I am a peace loving Indian and wish hell to all those who disturb the ordinary pace of my life. I don’t care about religion, politics and Siachen in the larger scheme of things. But if foreign sportsmen can be targeted despite ignoring the collective fear of the cricket community to play in one of the most cricket crazy countries, I am unsure if I will be willing to ignore the petty politics of colour, race and nationality when the next prospective maid gives me a call.
(PS: If you think that living in a glass house (note the glass was imported from some place in China) I should not be expressing my opinion on my neighbour’s mess, you are correct.
When I made that comment to my friend, I got thinking how we come to generalise incidents, accidents and experiences. I have often been a part of the drawing room talk of Muslims being zealots who pray five times a day and don’t wince when they kill an animal or a human being. In Hong Kong, I have sensed unsaid opinions on Indians.
Being conditioned by what we see is an integral part of who we are and however hard we try to sit on the fence we end up painting the fence either black or white)
PS II: I picked the links from a blog I read regularly
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