"TALAASH"ING BELIEF...

Whatever is wrong with people?! The other day, I had been to the Cinema with my dad and a friend. I was just too excited to watch "Talaash", the latest Amir Khan flick. I had restrained myself from reading reviews about the film, so that I could enjoy the experience of watching a story unfold right in front of my eyes. Once the movie ended, while my mind drifted off to a fantasy world where everything the movie spoke about was 'real'- my father and the friend simply said- they didn't like it much. I understand how the phrase goes: 'One's meat is other's poison'. But one simply cannot do away with a movie, just because the movie has "ghosts" in it, can they?

I must tell this here. My "tryst with" ghosts began very early- say since I was 4-5 years old. My Granny (Seethu Paatti)- was a master story-teller, who specialized in stories with a paranormal touch. Hailing from a village, that had witnessed exorcists and elaborate Tantric rituals, she knew how to spin a tale in a believable fashion. Her narration was fabulous and it always brought those rituals, ghosts and spirits alive, when one imagines the visuals. May be that was why I had always been able to enjoy a good horror-paranormal thriller.

But "Talaash" was not just about ghosts. It was about a human mind. A mind caged in thoughts. And thoughts that stop time and try to change the past. I must say that I was very impressed with both Amir Khan and Rani Mukherji, the protagonists. Farhaan Akhtar too deserves a pat on back for his wonderful dialogues. The "accident" that triggers the story of "Talaash" was a brilliant scene. The story takes its time and has its own pace. But at any point, when thought about it- the story does not lose its logical flow, which was the one thing that impressed me, the most.

I do not wish to brand this article as a "Movie Review". I would like to look at it as my own "Talaash" into my lost memories. The movie helped me remember my Seethu Paatti and some of her best tales. There was this story about Paatti's elder sister. It was dark when her sister did not come back from school. A search party was organized. They searched the whole village for the girl. At last, one of the girl's friends told them that she had taken the "forbidden short-cut" way back home. Apparently, she was sitting on top of this big boulder, with a vacant expression. She was brought home. The story was about the week-long rituals and violent exorcisms after which the elder sister recovered back to normalcy. The secret of the "forbidden short-cut"- then unfolds when the village Tantric explains that the grounds were actually the place where victor kings beheaded and executed the soldiers of the enemy troops. I wish I were half as good as her, when it comes to story-telling!

The way back home after the movie was a blur. My mind was full of images, some from the movie, a few from the past. The evening was a trip down the lane of memories- where my father and I remembered and shared some of the best paranormal stories we had shared earlier, from when I was a child. "Do I believe in ghosts?"- Well that is one question which troubles me. I would like to believe. Honestly. Believing in ghosts is something as exciting as believing in fairy tales or Santa Claus, perhaps even God. But I think "Belief"- the very term has found a dead end in this century. "Hope"- is the new term that takes us through our journey.

May be I am a romantic. Or some would call me- "Foolish". People these days decide about a film even before they watch it. They decide whether to actually watch it or would reading the story be suffice. Internet has made movie-watching faster. I confess. In my childhood, I have watched movies like "Chandralekha" or "Ashok Kumar" (1930s-1940s super-hits!) etc., where there were barely any dialogues, for the movie was full of songs. I just cannot muster such patience now, even if I wanted to. Besides, in an age where time means everything, why waste it watching a movie for a full 2.5-3 hours, only to realize that you did not like it? The quick-way makes more sense.

But I think that sometimes, it's better to go back to the old methods. What would be the problem with those old methods? Disappointment of watching a film that did not take the course you had imagined? Or the film simply surprises you with its end? I only say this. We need such disappointments and surprises in life. They make our lives- life. Don't they?

KASAB HANGED

Kasab hanged: Kudos to the officials for carrying out the execution quietly, thank you President Pranab for being decisive and thank you India- finally the victims get some kind of justice!

Remembering my beloved maternal uncle, Shri. P.K. Gopalakrishnan, who lost his life on the fateful day- 26/11: Click Here

SALARIED HOUSEWIVES (?)

A Bill posposed by the Ministry of Women and Child Development on making it mandatory for husbands to pay salary to housewives in case they are full-time staying at home, is curious. The first time I read it, it made me think that Indian Feminism has skipped all the "Foundation Courses" and has directly gone for a PhD! In a society like that of India, where being born as a "girl" is considered as additional burden upon the family and marriage market is a commercial forum for critically evaluating a woman's physical features (Yes- I'm talking about Fair and Lovely Commercials!)- imagining the consequences of forcing husbands to pay housewives, leaves one baffled!

One strong argument in favour of the Bill- is the need for financial evaluation of the work done by a housewife. The sheer amount of physical labour that a housewife does is mind boggling. Consider a middle-class household in a city. Apart from cooking, washing clothes/utensils and cleaning the house- a woman has to rear children and satisfy the emotional/physical needs of a husband. Adding to this, is the emotional strain on the wife- beginning with the debate and research on right school for kids to preparing the children for a "rat race", the burden of child nourishment and development falls entirely on a housewife. If this is a case of a housewife, a former colleague of mine shared some of her woes with me- and she said that apart from working in a Software Firm, she also needed to do the above mentioned jobs for her husband "thought" they were "women stuff"! Setting that apart- work at home, is not part of a market system and hence, a huge chunk of human labour goes unreported from the gross GDP statistics. This is not just the case of India but anywhere in the world. 

The first time I heard about the proposal- it sounded like a breath of fresh air. But upon re-thinking about it, it sounded absurd. The plight of women in India, be it housewife or working, is not very different from one another. Basically being a partiarchal society, India has never been a land which treated its daughters on par with her sons. The problem here, is essentially a "cultural" or a "social" problem. "Calculus" cannot cure "Common Cold". Similarly, a cultural problem cannot be solved politically/legalistically. Laws in India are abundant. Where the problem lies is- such laws that come in direct contradiction with the culture or customs, never have been able to maintain their authority amongst the masses. Culture, in this country prevails over Constitution. What we need is Renaissance. Socio-Religious reforms. Major religions and the traditional Indian society must go for a "make-over". A change in socialisation of children in family must happen. Husbands must treat wives and vice versa- as equal partners (working or not)- particularly in front of their children. This value-system would get internalised in these children when they grow up. Especially boys, right from an early age- must be taught to treat girls as their equal. Parents must treat their sons and daughters alike. This could be a valuable alternative. 

Making a law for anything and everything- would dilute the value of the law. To limit Greenhouse effect, would it be prudent to make a law that limits number of breaths per day? It's like the Chief Justice of India, Justice. S.H. Kapadia said about the "Right to Sleep". Before proposing the law, law-makers must think it over to see if they are "enforcable". Even if such a legislation to pay housewives comes into effect- how will you evaluate her work? How to quantify her love for her children? If she does extra work when a guest visits- will she get extra pay? What about the GDP argument? Even in that case- woman is not contributing separately but a part of the husband's income would get reflected as wife's. 

In 2010, Supreme Court of India, slammed Government for clubbing "housewives" with prostitutes, beggars and prisoners in Census 2001 and describing them as economically non-productive workers. I would infact like to see a day when no government job advertisement calls "women" as "weaker section". 

Indian Feminism is budding. Women have just begun to realise their Rights. Where women still suffer from "domestic violence", "sexual harrasment", "child marriage"/"early marriage", "being a housewife" (not out of personal choice), "victims of moral policing"- the prospect of "Salaried Housewives" sounds like a "Giant Leap" without a place to land. 

Note: Image- Scene from "Mahanagar"- A film by Satyajit Ray (Thanks- google Images)

THE FUNNY BONE THAT PRICKS

“Where the Clear stream of reason has not lost its way- into the dreary desert sand of dead habit”... “My Father! Let my country Awake”, wrote Gurudeb Rabindranath Tagore. Alas! It has been 65 years since our Independence and we still haven’t woken up. Recent arrest of Cartoonist Aseem Trivedi on Sedition charges seems no different from Sedition charges imposed by British on various nationalist journalists and news papers. In the Cat and Mouse game between the British and Amrit Bazar Patrika, where in the British passed Vernacular Press Act, 1878- with view to stopping the circulation of vernacular language papers; it only backfired on them, when the Patrika came out overnight as an English News paper! The arrest would only make Mr. Trivedi and his cartoon more famous- with his cartoons ending up to be more searched on the internet!

Be it the “3 wolves” cartoon or the “Gang Rape”/ “National toilet” cartoons– any normal observer would only look at them as “Cartoons against Corruption” and not demeaning the symbols of our country. With the government targeting most of the IAC protesters, the arrest is no surprise, per se. But what is troubling is the fact that we live in a country which is run by a corrupt government and unfortunately, there is no credible alternative to this government either.

In the movie, “Spiderman”, Uncle Ben says- “With great power comes great responsibility”. That is true for both the internet users and the government. Unfortunately, neither have the moral or ethical consciousness to self-regulate and critically evaluate their actions. Power, in the  mischievous hand, could prove ruinous- and history is full of insights into this. It was the crippling, suffocating and demeaning lives that we Indians suffered under an alien rule- that had helped our Founding Fathers to enshrine our Fundamental Rights and ensure us, the citizens our “Right to freedom of speech and expression” under Art 19 (1) (a) along with reasonable restrictions in Art 19 (2). This bring me to the article in- The Hindu, today, which has quoted Mr. Rajdeep Sardesai, who says, “...I find it amusing, but also very dangerous that you can get away with hate speech in this country, but parody and political satire leads to immediate arrest. Why don’t they go after those who incite violence?” Isn’t that something?

Power Vacuum in this country began with the demise of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru. With the mushrooming of corrupt leaders and poverty of tolerance to criticism, the present political sphere of India sure gives a grim picture about the future of this country. But the ray of hope lies in the fact that more people have found their voices. More people now, are aware of the plight they are in and know their Rights and Duties. Time is ripe for carving out a new and better India. All we need is- a Pandit Nehru.   

TO LEAVE THE HOME...

The pain of thoughtlessness. The agony of losing everything. The plunging of the dagger of loss; the pain ceases to cause tears. Looking back at all that had passed- it solves no purpose. Its again those voices in despair- crying out for help. Neighbors fighting with neighbors. No one knows when it all began. It had been there- it had not been. It had become a habit, as normal as the sleep or yawn. 

There are no destinations. The smoke and the fire bids adieu. To which land should we go? Where is the land that can welcome the ones who had left their homes behind? Would the new land welcome us? One does not know. Just as one does not know why one had to leave one's home behind.

The land is alien. Who are these people trying to help- one wonders! There are so many, yet so few people here. Friends and brothers- dead. Children- dead. No one knows why. They say, there are people who have come to see the camps. Who are these people? There are promises all around. There are some people with cameras. They run from one corner to the other with those cameras. One can never understand what they talk about. Who are they talking to? Who watches from behind those cameras? Can they see us all? Can they hear us?

Can these people with camera see the children playing around? These people and those who promise us about 'hope' and 'future'- can they explain these children, why they had to leave their homes? Who are those behind the camera? Are there some people watching? Like the God Almighty watches us all from above- they, the one's behind camera- can they see what we cannot see? Can they hear us? Can they answer us?

Wake up to Assam, India! 

Over 4 lakh people are displaced from their homes. And the numbers who are dead are still coming in. Some say it were the Bodos who ignited the lantern first. Some blame the "immigrants". Wake up India! For once you do, there would not be any Bodos or Muslims. There would be just- Humans.

Images: Thanks Google!

LIVING A DREAM

The distant land of riches

The prince, the horse and the breeze

White swan, peacock feathers

Soft pink silk, that grazes over skin.

Roses, sandal, saffron, jasmine

Emerald, pearls, diamonds, rubies

The harp that plays a tune

The tune, from a forgotten dream.

Looking out the window

Those smiling and giggling maids

The girls who never grew old-

Teasing about some Prince Charming.

Palaces, kings and scheming ministers,

Royal messengers and secret messages

The war, the spies;

Brave queens of the fallen king.

The tunnel that lead to the temple

Magician and his flying carpet

Caves haunted by demons and ghosts

A Lotus, that ate human children.

A drop of liquid to bring back the dead

Prince who turns into a parrot at dusk

Princesses singing, and sighing in moonlight;

Monkeys and tigers- nurturing the princess.

Forests protecting the royal bloodline

Loyal servants of the rightful masters

That moment- when the truth is revealed;

Revenge, courage and victory over the lost lands.

Granny's stories- and living a dream,

The few minutes of getting lost-

In that incredible land of stories;

Oh! What a bliss- was that childhood!

THE HINDU- JULY 2ND., 2012- MY LETTER

My Letter gets published in "The Hindu"- Letters to the Editor column, once again. Yippiee...!!! :D

Click on image to read the letter!

THE NEW EARTH

Out peeked a fresh, new Earth. Just born out of the Night's womb. The Earth, blessed now, by the trees and the sky. The holy waters adorning the new born Earth. The Earth today, is going to see things that no Earth before has ever seen! The mother Night, leaves off in search of food for it's new born Earth while the father- Day, greets his offspring, his pride showering his daughter with a mighty golden ray of light! His daughter would change the dark past. The Darkness that had consumed her sisters. But she would change it all. She would see a new day. He would make sure of that! He would not let the Darkness consume her. He would not let him take his daughter away!

The new Earth awoke. She opened her beautiful eyes. She saw her father, her divine face glowing with the light from his pride. Her tender surface is strengthened by his dreams. She smiles at him and gets ready for her journey towards a new world. She brings together the strength of her hope and the dreams of her father- the new Day! She steps into the new day- with new tales to tell.

Nature welcomes the new Earth. New birds and new trees, new brooks and new streams. And nature sings to the new Earth, new songs of hope. The Day watched with joy, his daughter blooming into a woman- he glows his might- and keeps her from harm. The sun shining right on her, the Day preserves his prize. For the new Earth was now a woman, her beauty now seamless- and glowing hot with her father's care. In his cocoon, was her safety. For her beauty, he felt, would lure the Darkness. The Day did not want the Dark to see her. He burned and burned, all day long- keeping away the Dark, the Dark who had taken away his daughters before. What would he say to the Night, his wife? He would not let the Dark near his daughter. He would burn him away- thought Day, the father, in rage.

The Day burned and burned. But there was no sign of the Dark. The father felt his joy- that knew no limits! For he would now have his daughter, with him, forever! His rage now ebbing away, he waited for his wife, the Night. But out of nowhere- came the Dark! Strong and powerful he struck the Day hard. Day, the father- thus taken by the Dark- his blood painted the skies red. In his blood, blushed the new Earth. The Dark was a man, so cold. He spread his cool arms- on the new Earth. The Earth, melted away at his touch. And in a moment, she was his. The Dark consumed her, and hid her away.

Mother Night, returned with the stars. The stars would be her daughter's food. She searched and searched but her daughter was nowhere to be found! She cursed herself for going away. She turned now to the Moon. She pleaded him to help. The Night promised that she would be his, if he helped her find her daughter, the Earth. The Moon agreed, and he shone his brightness upon everything his hands touched. He searched through the night's sorrow, still the Earth was nowhere. And suddenly the moon's hands, touched upon the Darkness, himself!

The helpless night- wailed away her sorrow. Her tears washing away the Earth beneath the darkness!

The Dawn arrived and the new Day pecked on his wife's cheeks. There would be a new Earth, again- he promised her and embraced. And through the Night's tears and the Dawn's hope- Out peeked a fresh, new Earth...

WHAT DID I DO? - "Reposted- Remembering Gujrat-2002"

(This is a Re-post of an earlier post. Posted originally on Sep 21st 2009.)

Dark. The night was as dark as the heart of a murderer. But I felt safe. Mother was beside. Her warmth protected me against just anything. All my anxieties wither away- just one touch of hers, does wonders to me. The quiet night, was only destined to be quiet for a while. But we were not supposed to know yet. I felt the eternal quiet- a night, so calm and peaceful- an assurance brought about due to the sense of another being present beside- one whom you could touch and trust.

I lay lost in thoughts. I couldn’t sleep. I was just too happy. Everybody had been so happy that day. The day I was born. Father said that he had not ever been happier- than the day I was born. I knew he had spoken the truth. His eyes had never lied to me. My mother had probably guessed that I was not sleeping. She had started to pat me… gently. How come mothers know that? I could never understand that.

It had been an unusually quiet night. So quiet, that I could almost hear my own thoughts. I turned in my bed. I could see father. I think that I had got the best father in the whole world. Mother had been complaining since a few days back about “difficult days ahead”. I never understood what she meant by that. But father! He had never complained- about anything. He had always made sure that we were happy. He said- “It’s a man’s shame that his women complain. I would never let my little princess cry”. And he was a man of his words.

There were noises. Distant noises- coming closer- slowly- then rapidly. And all of a sudden- it ceased to be a quiet night. There were cries everywhere. People ailing. Crying out in pain- agony. People angry. People, in rage. In panic, in despair. It was a moment in my life when I felt all the human emotions- simultaneously. What was the cause of this commotion? I wondered.

Suddenly, I felt myself being lifted up by such a force- that I was being pulled back onto the firm ground from the land in my dream. It was mother. I could see her crying. Why was she crying? Father was beside her. The look on his face… What was it? Could that be fear? No. But it was fear. A strange helplessness- despair, had crept into him. I had never seen him like that. He looked at me. I tried to smile. But I couldn’t. I felt that my doubtful, uncertain glance at him had only weakened him. We were running. Like fugitives. Like animals being hunted. But why?

I saw people on the road. Some were holding up torches. The flames from the torches were not as bright as their eyes that shone with mad pleasure. Some of them had swords. Some- knives, spears. They were beating and killing everyone. I could recognize some of the people who were running along with us. Those were the people, who were being killed- tortured. We ran faster and faster. The noise around was unbearable. May be, we were dead. And we were in hell… What else could it be?

Suddenly, I had fallen off my mother’s clutches. And before I could realize what was happening, my mother had ceased to run. In fact, she had ceased to move, talk or cry. She was not… was she? Where is father? I looked around. Some of the men with swords were holding him. I started running towards him. He looked at me, and when he fell down, he was still looking at me. The men with swords were coming closer, towards me. I was not running. I was not crying. They were standing, now, facing me. Judging me. The noise was dying down. I could now see, only their eyes staring into mine. I heard myself say, “What did I do”? And all I could hear was, the echo of silence…

LONE LITTLE BIRD

The dusk was a rage of red

And melted away, was gold

The breeze was a welcome bliss

But in came a cruel cold.

The sun was away for a while

Stars, waiting for the moon

The sky was an empty heart

Oh Night! Be here soon.

Through the gray, gold and red

Fluttered a little lone bird

"Where were his friends"? I wondered

And it seemed, for a moment- he heard.

"What had kept you back?

Why did you wait so long?

Is it for a grain of rice?

Or some poet's sad- bird song?

You flutter as you fight with the breeze

Your wings growing tired as I see

What had kept you back- waiting?

While you watched your friends fly, free?

Fly home safe, little bird

Worry not, for the grain of rice

Your little ones wait for you, back home

Keep them safe from a world of lies.

Return to them, help them live

Return to them, to life

For rice is rice, and song- a song

But life- not something rife"!

He fluttered along- soon, was gone

The sky now dark- an empty space,

I closed my eyes, to feel through the sky

And I found his little wings' pace.

He was home, he was safe

That was all, I needed to know

The night was here- and so was the cold

"Au Revoir, little bird- for now, I must go"...

TOMORROW...

What is that-
that which is tomorrow?

A hope for a new day?
Or a new day of hope?
A change in the making?
Or making new change?

That which is tomorrow-
Is it a blossoming dream?
Or a dream still a dream-
within a mind fast asleep?

Is it a life in progress?
Or a search for a life?
A beginning? An end?
Or a means to them both?

That which is tomorrow-
Is still but- tomorrow;
An uncertain truth
Or a certain untruth

A mirage, nevertheless-
A wonderful sight
It is, but not-
That which is tomorrow...