Ala re ala, Govinda ala!

Today marks the birth of the most beloved of all the deities in the Hindu pantheon, Lord Krishna. This Godly figure, however, isn't distant and forbidding like the rest, maybe that's why He's so loved. And love is a more appropriate emotion for Him than mere veneration, because He is the god that resides where there is love.

Throughout the tale of His life, He never bothered about the ethics of dharma, or the fairness of religion with respect to his actions. That doesn't mean that He was as bad as those whom He opposed, just that He exemplified the view that 'Do unto others as they do unto you'. Those who know no right, who care not for niceties, for justice and righteousness, cannot be reformed using soft words and diplomacy. They must be dealt with in the same manner, as they treat others, for in that they realise the fundamental lesson: It could happen to us. A perpetrator of evil, when faced with a similar situation dawning upon himself, realises the folly of his actions, and is expected to reform. Krishna is the epitome of this thought process.

For me, when asked to choose between Rama and Krishna, the choice is a difficult one to make, and for many reasons. While Rama is the ideal man, His conduct with respect to His wife in the culmination of His legend brings to fore the inherent hypocrisies of the Hindu religion, which on one hand praises Him for his steadfast devotion to all that is righteous, and on the other hand, through His actions, sanctions the mistreatment of one's beloved for the safety of the throne. And there Krishna scores. Because His entire life was a game, meant at outwitting those who tormented their fellow beings, at their own play, using their own methods, His life isn't a contradiction; rather it's a open book.

One can search the ancient tomes, the songs of yore, the dramas, and one will find many references to Rama, and yet one can find more fond references to Krishna. His love for Radha, though in the end left unrequited, is an immortal tale of how love must be. His heroic rescue of the lady Rukmini and Hs subsequent marriage is an Indian girl's version of the tale of the knight in shining armour. His surrender of the throne to the aging Ugrasena, his great uncle, showed the purity of Hs character. His genius at defeating His enemies is the Indian equivalent of Sun Tzu, maybe even more the better because in the end, He always got the girl.

His guidance to the troubled Arjuna serves as the message that the Divine wishes to give to humanity: 'Do your duty fearlessly, without any expectation of results, and I shall manage the rest.' His protection of Draupadi, when her own wedded husbands failed to do so, speaks of the power of devotion. His city of Dwaraka, the impregnable island city, is a testament to the greatness of the skills of the Gods, and to that of the genius that is inherent in the Indian people.

In truth, Krishna is not a God. He is one of us, a common man, who laughs and cries with us, who plays with us, and frolics in our glee. He is present in each and every child whose aim is to break the Handi. His antics are the stuff of childhood lore, which every mother prays her own child emulate. His bravado is the type that young teenagers aim for, consciously or unconsciously. And His love is the reward that we all desire, for in the end,

'Who the Lord loves, no grief shall touch,
Who the Lord protects, no harm shall come unto,
For the Lord is the Supreme,
And in Him, we place our lives.'

Rantings of an inconsequential lot!

I just was going through the newspaper, when I came across an article on the latest fatwa issued by the Darul-Uloom Deoband seminary in Uttar Pradesh. The seminary, once known as a vanguard of modernism amidst a sea of fundamentalism, has finally succumbed. Of late, its edicts have bordered on being retrograde and outright ridiculous.

The edict in the Imrana case was shocking, nay deplorable. That a man can rape his daughter-in-law, and then be "rewarded" by a clean chit, as also by his own daughter-in-law's hand in marriage, is mind-boggling. And why, pray did the seminary issue such directions? Because, in its warped vision, the daughter-in-law is, I quote, "haram", for her own legally married husband, and should he insist on identifying himself as her husband, he may as well accept excommunication. For one moment, even if we neglect the stupidity of the seminarians, then we must feel appalled at the sheer cowardice of the husband. You loved a woman, if not loved, you cared for her as she cared for you, and now just because some bearded goat thinks it fit to deny you your marital rights on the grounds that your father has had carnal relations with her, you simply are not expected to accept it lying down. The husband ought to have denied the seminary the right to decide what and how the matter was to be resolved. He ought to have stood by his wife, and pressed the administration to punish his erring father, excommunication be damned.

But no, the husband simply bent. And that is a great defeat, for those who sought to portray an image of modernity amidst conservatism, of the Muslim community. For a community to accept this so silently, is to acknowledge and affirm its support for it.

The seminary's latest salvo was on the Women's Representation Bill, which has been in limbo for as long as I can remember. From what I read, and from whatever I understood from that, I was shocked. The seminary seemed to imply that for women to contest elections, or to aim to represent people in a popular assembly is un-Islamic. Even if they were to accept the validity of their claim to contest elections, women must stay within purdah the whole time, and must delegate to their men folk the right to represent even after getting elected. Well, I cannot comprehend why any Muslim woman would want to contest elections, if such an activity were going contrary to the tenets of her faith.
The truth is that the Muslim community is now fed up of these seminarians, and their bigoted vision. No religion can claim to be the true representative of God on earth, so long as it denies women, one half of God's greatest creation, humankind, and their rightful place in society. And if a religion does not hold this "divine" license, well then why bother with the mutterings of its leaders?

The environment be damned!

Recently the Environment Minister in Maharashtra spoke of selling all the open spaces in Mumbai in the control of the State Government to raise funds to help get over the near 1,000 crores deficit. God knows, where these politicians get their brainwaves from? Sell the open spaces, and do what? Live in a concrete jungle? I'd rather the State get its money from the citizens than from such avenues.
A city's lungs are its open spaces. These absorb light, heat, and keep the area generally cooler than the other area. Open spaces aren't just important for meteorological purposes, they are the indicators of the culture of the people. Shivaji Park is the symbol of Maharashtrian pride, a popular venue of the annual Ramleela, and the bastion of Hindu nationalism. It has also contributed to the Indian cricket spectra by way of the luminaries who broke their first bats on this ground. And this hallowed space is sought to sold for a few pieces of silver?
The environment minister is renowned for supporting causes that definitely harm the environment. And this proposal is definitely aimed at the builder cabal. Maybe, the minister's vision of Mumbai entails having each and every square inch of free land occupied by structures, its people dull and listless. Whether we will allow him to dream on is for the people of Mumbai to decide.

The end of an era!

Yesterday, my great grand mother passed away. And to say the truth, I am sure that she would be relieved. All of 90 years, she had lived her life with the zest and enthusiasm of a teenager. She loved sweets, and sometimes, even stole them when we weren't watching. Her mastery over all affairs, be they related to sports, politics, or plain religion, was simply mind-boggling, especially given the fact that she just had a basic education. Her love for cooking, music, the arts, embroidery and other artistic pursuits was a testament to her genius.

However of late, she was ailing. Her eyes were failing her, her ears had long started to desert her, and after a fall in the first week of August, her memory also began to disappear gradually. She had a chronic cough, something that had the capacity to keep her awake for nights. And yet, she was cheerful. Maybe it was her love for life that sustained her. Maybe it was her love for reading.
When her eyes were so clouded that she couldn't read any more, she was reduced to half. Her time simply wouldn't pass. And often she would say, "My dears, give me leave to go now." And that breaks the heart now.

And yet, I am glad she went without pain, in her sleep, without any suffering. And in that, I praise the Lord. For her death was expected, as is all of ours. That which is born must die, and that which dies, will be reborn. So, her death wasn't a surprise in itself. It is just that we never expected she would go so soon. I cried for just two minutes, and then the tears didn't flow. It wasn't because I have become apathetic. It was because in the end, she was relieved. She would have been pleased to go this way.

As she lay there in the hall, bedecked in a sari her late brother had so fondly given her, and which she herself was fond of, she just seemed to have gone into an eternal slumber, a peaceful rest. In fact, she was so tranquil that it seemed possible that she may get up any moment, with a mischievous smile, muttering, "I was just testing you, whether you people can organise things properly."
Her neatness in life, her zeal for life, its joys, and its pleasures is a continued inspiration for me and my family. To say that we cannot forget her is to quote a cliché, and yet, today I am realising what it means to lose someone close.
In conclusion, I remember her words, when I once had met her, and that I did very frequently.

She said, "I have done so much, I have enjoyed so much. And yet, I am still to do so much. Trust me, I shall do all that I couldn't do in this birth in the next. Trust me."

Amma, I trust you, and pray that you come to my house, so that I can care for you just as you cared for me.

Where the mind is without fear...

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake
-Rabindranath Tagore

Tagore always had a way with words. No wonder, they gave him the Nobel for Gitanjali. His plea to the Almighty resounds even in today's mindless cackle and cacophony, merely because it's a entreaty from the heart, from the soul. Every Independence and Republic Day, people salute the flag, sing patriotic songs, make great speeches about freedom, the sacrifices that our freedom fighters made, and how we must safeguard it. And that's that. No really, I am not accusing the Indian people of being unpatriotic. But there's more to patriotism than saying "Mera Bharat Mahaan".

Making big speeches about freedom, its importance, and our duties towards the nation is all well and good, but we must comprehend this basic fact. No freedom is absolute. No liberty is ever unrestricted. It is an irony, but it is the truth. Mind you, liberalism is all nice on paper, but in principle, its conservatism that's fashionable. And why wouldn't it be so? Alexander Solzhenitsyn once said, "Unrestrained freedom exists for the press, but not for the readership, because newspapers mostly transmit in a forceful and emphatic way those opinions, which do not too openly contradict their own, and that general trend." If the so-called vanguards of freedom, of liberty should resort to such double standards, then why single out the bureaucracy or the politicians for criticism?

Just on Sunday, two young ladies were attacked by a drug addict, a morally deranged individual, in a prominent tourist spot in Mumbai. One lady had a throat cut, while the other suffered wounds on her head, and her hands. And while this happened, what were our "free" people doing? Watching the tamasha, as one would say. Just two gentlemen had the sense to attempt to assist the victims. And what was the press doing while this was happening? Clicking away to glory! This isn't freedom, this isn't independence. This is a mockery of all that those involved in the freedom struggle bore for us. That in such a prominent spot a man could so brazenly attack a woman, and then proceed to knife her companion, and that no one should even bother to assist them, is not just shocking, it's downright deplorable.
And that the companion yelled out, "We are not foreigners. We are Indians.", hoping that this might elicit some assistance, is to me the most shameful of all things. That someone in need has to convince you of his/her identity before you decide to help him/her speaks a lot about your character. And yet we exult over being independent for 58 years!

Tagore's poem remains a hope that things will change, that they will improve. Maybe things will progress from just lip service to true altruism. We cannot afford to wait another 58 years for that.

Out of the blue!

I usually do not go all out against anyone. Maybe, it's because I feel there has got to be another side of the coin, the side which I may not have seen, and having not seen it, my decision is based only on what I perceive. To my great satisfaction, this policy has always served me well, well maybe not always, but generally yes. But then, there are always exceptions to the rule, aren't they?

We have a new Principal in college, and for future reference I am referring to him as P2. Well, P2 is rather young, as compared to our previous principal. The previous chap, for all his work, was often criticised for being dictatorial, even tyrannical in his administration of the institute. Somehow, I failed to understand where he overdid it. As far as my observation goes, his actions and statements were generally logical, and made a lot of sense. Once in a while, when he did go haywire, one could comprehend the pressure that he was undergoing, and should ideally give him the benefit of doubt. I am not posing as a apologist, nor am I pleading for his reinstatement. A chapter once closed is best left so. Tampering with the course of Time is neither easy nor desirable.

But what I felt was that P1 (the previous principal) was a nice guy, really, and it just required one to know him a tad better to understand and maybe even forgive his whimsical behaviour. Whatever his faults, still he was rather polite, understanding, and in some cases, even contributive to the attempt to solve problems inherent in a college.

Given that I have displayed such affection for P1, one may wonder whether I reserve the same for P2 as well. Well, I DON'T! Believe me, I have nothing against him as a person. Maybe if I get to know him a little better, then maybe I may start liking him. But P1 was special. And so in my eyes, I cannot accept anyone other than him as my head. And heck, where's even the comparison?

P1 was a tall, couldn't exactly call him strapping, but yes, impressive personality he surely had. When he walked in a room, one couldn't help looking at him, even if to curse him. He had nearly 40 years of teaching and administrative experience behind him, and this showed in his approach to problems, and even the day to day running of affairs.
P2 on the hand has such a personality that simply blends in the crowd. If I didn't know better, I could even mistake him for another professor. His age, rather his youth, is a disadvantage at times, because then he depends on others to make even the simplest of decisions. And most of all, when any person is invested with such power at a diminutive age, it is bound to go to his head. That individual desires acknowledgement, not as a product of respect, but of that of fear. And that is a dangerous thing.

For the last two years, the students of my college are involved in litigation against the college authorities. Never in the tenure of P1 was our struggle ever used to obstruct our extracurricular activities. And yet now in the final year, P2 actually wanted our placement process to be delayed until such time when our litigation is completed. Such underhanded tactics, and I am not afraid to use that word, are simply unbecoming of a person to whom one must look up to in respect and admiration.

Maybe he had some obligations, some compulsions, but if he would have cared to explain them to us, there may not have so much rancour amongst us. Admitted, even if he would have spoken of this to us, we would have objected, but still his involvement in this drama would be clearer. For now, he's the protagonist, the villain of the piece.

I now fear only for those who succeed me in this college, for in the presence of such an uncommunicative and boorish head, the institute can go nowhere but down, and I pray, that it does not.

Shame!

The happenings of the last one week have brought into the open the glaring difference between a functioning democracy, and a namesake one. India has long prided itself on its democratic institutions, its ability to protect the truth from the vagaries of the State. And yet, this pride seemed misplaced when the Nanavati Commission Report was placed before the people. 20 years ago, thousands of people of the most patriotic and dedicated communities in India, the Sikhs, were butchered, burnt alive, and tortured to death, seemingly to atone for belonging to the same community as those who assassinated the then Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi. And that too in the heart of the Indian State, the capital city of Delhi. And as I read my newspaper today, just a few miles from the heart of the Government, in Lutyen's area, Sikhs were killed despite their being esconsced in the homes of legislators. But then who's to blame?

The Commission exonerates the man who should have had the most influence in those troubling times. The grieving son of the dead PM, the soon-to-become PM (don't ask me how this works, I am still trying to figure it out) makes a statement, seemingly justifying the carnage. He said, "When a great tree crashes to the ground, the earth is bound to shudder." Nice words, brilliant even, except the shudder he spoke of took the lives of thousands, and robbed many more of the semblance of a normal existence. The earthquake shook the confidence of a community in a nation, which could not protect them when they needed it the most. And then we call them militants? Who made them out to be so? Who pushed them to the wall?

The Commission is ambiguous when it comes to accusing the men, whom the whole of Delhi knew and believed to be the prime movers behind the horror. One of them, until recently a member of the Union Cabinet of Ministers, was forced to resign by the Opposition parties, and his Government's allies, when the Commission hinted at the possibility of his being responsible. And yet, he has the temerity to claim that he will return as pure as a lamb.
Justice delayed is justice denied. But here, what came in the hands of the families of the victims was neither delayed justice, nor justice by any definition of that word. It was a mockery of their suffering, a charade of their tears.
In 1984, members of the Sikh community were stripped off their ceremonial turbans, tied with the same cloth, bound by burning tires, and then left to slowly burn to death. Sikh mothers, fearful for the safety of their children, forced them to cut their hair, a sacrilege of the highest order for the Sikhs. That the State failed to assure them of its ability to protect them is not only saddening but downright abominable. And we call ourselves civilized?
If we are to serve penance, if we desire to atone for this act of horror, then it is required that we rise above our parochial commitments, our regional affiliations, and unite as a people, and identify the demons within us, who desire to kill, and then destroy them. Conducting an investigation for 20 years isn't justice, it's a charade. And there's only one ending for such a charade: Tears and more tears.

Those desiring to know more about this horror, visit http://info.indiatimes.com/1984/

The maestro's back!

Finally, the King has returned! Perhaps the most important event on television in quite some time. The restarting of the popular televised game show, Kaun Banega Crorepati, is a welcome break from the endless soap operas, or should one call them the detergent sagas, given that some of them are nearly two years old. The show as usual is crisp and comforting in its format, its atmosphere encouraging of active participation, and its host as genial and graceful as ever. No matter who says, no one can deny the fact that Amitabh Bachchan at his peak isn't any different from Amitabh Bachchan elsewhere. His charm and magnificence is evident, both on the movie screen, as also the television screen, and yet his humility, his politeness and his ability to acknowledge and encourage the efforts of the participants, is something that truly characterizes him.

People call Shahrukh Khan the superstar of the new age, at least in India. I beg to differ. With all due respect to Mr. Khan, whose acting histrionics I am not attempting to gainsay, Mr. Bachchan is the eternal superstar, and there's no denying that. Mr. Bachchan in his 60's still rules the roost just as when he was in his 30's. Look at any multiplex in Mumbai, and you will find at least one movie starring him, being featured on some screen. And what to say of his acting?
His performance in Sarkar, the Indian equivalent of the Godfather, with all due respect to Mario Puzo, was simply outstanding. The look in the eyes, the impassive expressions, and the propensity to dismiss any questions to his authority by the mere flick of his hand, that is real entertainment.
I thoroughly enjoyed Mr. Bachchan's previous innings on television, and look forward to another exciting series, as do millions of his fans.

Where's the comparison?

I was just going through the newspaper, and came up perusing through a journalist's opinion on the marked difference in the manner in which Mumbai and London reacted in near "similar" situations. And I am shocked. Just where the journalist concerned even managed to make a connection between the two cities was beyond me.

Admitted, London faced the twin terrorist attacks of 7/07/2005 and 21/7/2005 remarkably well, and in truth, having visited it just two days prior to the first attack, the entire British administrative system is very much efficient, and for such an administration to react so very effectively to such an event is not something unusual. That police, fire personnel, medical crews, etc. emergency efforts were immediately deployed on a war footing may have lessened the casualties in these dastardly acts goes without saying. And yet, there is no scope to compare Mumbai with London.

Mumbai has a predominately middle class population, residing in areas with semi-effective, or in some areas, completely ineffective drainage systems, something that one is hardly going to encounter in London. Then again, the garbage disposal habits of the average Mumbaikar aren't comparable to any of the average Londoners. The average administrative worker in Mumbai isn't enjoying as luxurious and as stress-free jobs as in cities in the developed countries. The moot point however is that Mumbai wasn't attacked by terrorists. The city was the victim of nature's fury, something no man can ever forecast, nor can one ever prepare adequately for it. The intensity of the rains, combined with the rising tidal waters and the garbage- clogged drains completely disrupted the water disposal systems of the city, causing massive flooding in major sections of the city.

A friend of mine wrote in his blog recently that the government shouldn't be deplored for its inability to do anything in such a case as in such situations, we observed that where people themselves found it hard to reach places, expecting the government or emergency workers to reach such locations is preposterous. Maybe, if Mumbai would have been, (God forbid), been afflicted with bomb blasts, as it has been in the past, and the government would have dealt with it as before, then these pesky journalists would comprehend the plans that this city has in place. London had the unfortunate luxury of suffering from just terrorist attacks. Mumbai suffered nature's wrath, and when nature's cross with you, not even the Gods can save you.

Post-floods analysis

Over the last one week, having seen all the news on TV, and read the same in the newspapers, I have, rather the city of Mumbai has made a very important discovery. There actually exists a river in the midst of our city! Come to think of it, our city now can be termed complete, at least in the geological sense. No really, we have hills, we have the ocean, we have lakes, we have marshy lands, we have the city itself made up of islands, and now we have a river. And yet, how this fact remained hidden for so long is not really surprising.

Mumbai has always been a city which has really been unconcerned with its environment. Yes, we have people like the BNHS, and the WWF-Mumbai, who are always making comments about how the environment in the city has been steadily degraded, and how it would eventually harm us. But no, we wouldn't listen to them, and why should we? Caring for the environment was for the rich and the famous, not for the middle class and the lower classes. After all, who else has the time and energy to devote to such causes when one has a army of mouths to feed every month? So, we continued to dump our garbage in the open nullahs, silently encouraged the construction explosion that has wracked the city, and in the process, weakened those forces which actually protected us.
Not many of us are aware of the existence of a unique ecosystem at the very edges of our city, where the ocean meets the islands. The marshy mangroves, traditionally, and very rightly associated with the stink of a sewer, actually are amongst the most diverse and most useful ecosystems in the world. These mangroves function as the filters of our filth, the sickening sludge that we send into the ocean, and in the process maintain some semblance of cleanliness. Very recently, it was proven that in those areas of Tamil Nadu where the mangroves were not destroyed, the tsunami's force had a nearly 40% diminished intensity, and to say the least, the casualties in such areas also were minimal.
But then, who the hell cares about some stinky mangroves? Fine, let's look at the Mithi river now. Originating from Virar lake, this rivulet snakes through most of the western suburbs, and finally empties itself in the Mahim bay. Most of the city's major drains flow into this natural drainage stream. However, over the years, rapacious building activity on either side of the river has narrowed the river's width, and has transformed the once-massive river into a pale shadow of its former self. When the Bandra-Worli Sea Link was being constructed, or rather when the process started, 4.7 hectares of land was deemed necessary to be reclaimed for structural integrity purposes. The Government reclaimed 47 hectares of land, and in the process nearly blocked the river's path to the ocean.

And this has now caused the havoc that we are all seeing in the western suburbs. The rains have caused the source of the Mithi, the Virar lake, to overflow, causing a cascade of water to gush towards the sea. The narrow banks of the river cannot hold this quanta, and overflow as expected, flooding the adjoining areas. The city's drains find themselves blocked, and hence the waters that ought to be drawn away from the affected areas are pushed back towards the same areas. And then the river being deprived of an outlet to the sea, can only push against the reclaimed land, but to no avail. So the waters again flow back towards the source, and the result is there for all to see. The flooded Kalina and Andheri areas now have borne the brunt of the fury of the desecrated river.

Many have postulated that what this city needs is a good drainage system. Unfortunately, that's only half of the solution. Unless the government improves the efficiency of the existing system, any additions to it will be money thrown down the drain. Also, there is need to stop the destruction of the mangroves, which in the end, can prevent flooding by drawing the waters into the marshy lands. And last but not the least, there is need to restore the Mithi river to normalcy, maybe not to its fullest, as that remains an impossible dream, but maybe to a level wherein the river can execute its natural functions effectively and to everyone's benefit.