Search

Search.

In the stillness of life, I search for movement,

In the pell-mell of life I search for silence.

In the burning deserts of life I search for shade,

In the comforting shades of life I search for challenges.

In the mighty planes of life I search for corners,

In the tiny corners of life I search for vastness.

In the shallow waters of life I search for knowledge,

In the deep oceans of life I search for ignorance.

In the unknown crowds of life I search for an identity,

In the known valleys of life I search for anonymity.

In the harsh reality of life I search for an illusion,

In the deceptive illusion of life I search for the truth.

In the disorderly array of life I search for perfection,

In this quest for perfection, I discover life.

Mumbai.

I am Mumbai. On the shores of Arabian sea, looking westward to the holy land of Mecca. Everyday thousands throng into my heart, all with dreams. Some big. Some small. But dreams nonetheless. I am not a city. I am an illusion. An illusion with bright lights and darker shadows. An illusion made of unreal stories and broken dreams. An illusion that is broken with every heartbeat and reinforced with every breath. As far as the eye can see, I see people of all colors and features. They all call me their own. I am not defined by a language or a religion. I am defined by a spirit that can not be defined.

I sing the tunes of the films that are made here. I wear the sweat of the mill workers who worked here. I  taste the hard work of dabbawallas who bring food to millions here. I believe in the faith of Mount Mary, Siddhivinayak and Haji Ali. I dance to the music of dandiya and the dhol of  Durga Puja. I wake up to the holy sounds of Azaans in Bombay Central and sleep to the quiet murmurs of the distant waterfalls in the ghats. I live vicariously through the youth of Fashion street and Colaba causeway. I relive my past  with the sounds of Bhindi Bazaar and the songs of the kolis. I smile at undying spirit of the kids who grow up on my streets. I am saddened  by the unending pursuit of money at Dalal Street.

Yes, I am an illusion. An illusion one can touch and feel and see. I am an illusion made up of millions of dreams. I am an illusion people live in and call their own. I... am Mumbai.

Good bye 20s....I will miss you soon....

The first feeling of freedom in one's life comes when one starts going to college....at least it did for me. The feeling of being able  to travel on your own to a world of its own possibilities, to a world of new friends and a canvas of unlimited dreams is truly the feeling of freedom.

Its interesting, whenever I rewind my life to the most happiest and most carefree days of my life, I think of my college days. The feeling of the moist cool sea breeze across our faces as we crossed the creek on our local trains to get to college, the overrated jokes from F.R.I.E.N.D.S giving us a sense of uber coolness, the innumerable teenage crushes on cricketers and others.....all gave us a sense of freedom, we had never experienced. 

While college life brought its own challenges and heartbreaks, it made of us aware of a world beyond our high schools and homes. It brought us face to face with so many different facets of our own society that we were never aware of. 

College life brought friends, hopes and dreams into our lives. It told us what we were capable of. It was a place where inexperienced visions of life melted away to give way to a more mature understanding of life. 

It was a time of countless hours spent sipping coffee and having some what serious discussions about life and sundry. It was a time of exploring our own city with new eyes. It was a time of sneaking away from college to watch movies and cricket. It was a time of using our student ids to get into air conditioned art galleries for free to beat the heat. It was time to go a particular Goan restaurant for a cheap plate of prawn fried rice. It was a time of carefully counting our pocket money and buying trinkets off the street. It was a time, when the sky seemed bluer and the world looked like a glass half full. 

As I stand on the threshold of my fourth decade in the world, I suspect, I will soon look back into my 20s, as a period of growing maturity and subtle mannerism . I will look back at my 20s as enjoying my freedom with a growing sense of responsibilities. I will look back at my 20s as a time when the F.R.I.E.N.D.S didn't make you laugh as hard and cups of coffees are gulped down with a great sense of urgency. 

So good bye 20s, I will miss you soon...

Mind your volume please!

All right! What is with people speaking loudly on their phones?? No, I don’t get it…I simply don’t. Is it a desperate need to get attention or is that people simply don’t realize that they are loud?

I have often wondered why people tend to be so loud on the phone. I remember when we were younger; it used to be a great thrill to get phone calls from my uncle who lived abroad. Considering the phone connections used to be very bad those days, it was but natural that my grandparents had to raise their voices to make sure that their son heard them well. But twenty years later, I refuse to accept that technology can be blamed for people speaking loudly on their phones. Things have got so bad nowadays that when a phone rings in my vicinity, I fear that I will become a part of somebody’s intimate discussions without wanting to be part of it.

I distinctly remember my hostel days, when we used to get calls from our parents only once in a while, and we used to be particularly happy when we got one. So there I had an excited friend who received a call from her mother after a long time. It was natural that she spoke to her for a long time asking her about her health, the weather there and what was for dinner that night. The reason that I knew what the conversation was like is not because she told me about it, but simply because I heard her while she was on the phone. I guess its always a little difficult to have private conversations in a hostel, but the I swear I was not trying to invade her privacy….I was on the second floor watching television, while she was two floors below in the common area!!!

I have always tried to keep it low when I am on phone, fearing that I might disturb others around me. But it upsets me a lot when I don’t get the same degree of concern from others. Adam Smith in his “Theory of Moral Sentiments” said that “ we put ourselves in the position of a vicarious spectator and tune our behaviour to the pitch that we know from our experience will seem appropriate to others.” Forget tuning once behaviour, people are not even ready to tune their pitches for other people. Why is it that people have absolutely no respect for others? This sort of behaviour irks me the most when I am in the library trying to study (yes, a very rare activity, but not an extinct one!). So instead of trying to figure out as to how New Keynesian economics is different from new classical, I am forced to listen to the work schedule of the girl sitting on the next table or the guest list to one’s thanksgiving dinner.

Ok, lets assume that people are not concerned about other people, therefore they don’t have any problems being loud on the phone. But don’t they have respect for their own privacy at least??? I mean I have no particular interest in knowing how one’s date last night ended or did not end. I have no desire to know the recipe for pumpkin pie or by how much the stock prices of Microsoft has gone up. So, here I am peacefully reading a book in the confines of my own house, when I suddenly hear my neighbour across the lane talking on the phone to his parents and asking them for some more money. By the end of the phone call, I had a complete knowledge of the boy’s financial situation and that he was going to receive an additional five hundred dollars that month! Hmmm….maybe its time to make a new friend! ;)

The silent sound of snow..

 The sky turns red, giving an illusion of day break. And the snow drops in like a quiet house guest tiptoeing so as to not wake up it's hosts. The white blanket slowly covers all that was around us. With the first rays of sunlight one sees the tiny paw prints of furry friends who you did not know lived in the backyard. The bare branches of trees bow down with the burden of snow on them. A lone bird looks around for food, which safely sleeps under the warm hug of the white snow. The soft snow under your feet gives you the feel of white sands and far away lands with sunshine and warmth. The bitter cold reminds you of how harsh nature can be. At the same time, the peacefulness of the snow reminds you of everything that is right with the world.

A docudrama gone terribly wrong

This is the first for me. I enjoy watching films, but have never really reviewed a film. However, this film based on the real life shooting of a model named Jesicca Lall in 1999 has somehow prompted me to write a couple of my reactions down. I was looking forward to the film 'No One Killed Jessica'. I was impressed by the promos that I saw on youtube and all the promotional interviews that I came across. After the film released I found many of my friends raving about this film on both Facebook and Twitter. Most of the film critics also praised the movie for both its bold choice of subject and its direction.

I watched the film last night on netflix and was left without a single emotion. I found that there were many problems with the film.

First, most of the characters in this film did not evoke a single emotion out of me. Be it the super bitchy role of Rani Mukerji (or however she spells it now!) based on journalist Barkha Dutt, or Sabrina Lall the younger sister of Jessica Lall who fought for justice for almost a decade, or the various witnesses in the case including the character based on Bina Ramani. The only convincing character was the investigating Police Inspector who was as real as the person sitting next to me. I was touched by the degree of helplessness that was portrayed by a government official who is supposed to be the keeper of law and order in the country.

Second, in his attempt to dramatize a real event, the director was not able to keep the authentic emotions of the characters and neither was he able to give it cinematic touch. It was somewhere between a documentary and thriller, which left me feeling quite cheated. Most of the characters overacted-the main culprit being Rani. Unfortunately she tries to hard to be the uber cool foul mouthed journalist. Vidya was passable. None of the other character actors left an impression on me either.

Third and probably the most important was the lack of portrayal of the case being retried. What happened in the high court? How was the missing evidence brought back? Were the hostile witnesses  used for the case again? There were also some obvious mistakes in the film. 

All and all, a film which already had such a fantastic story line, a film which could have been used to extend the optimism of the Jesicca Lall murder case and youth activism to other classes and sections of the society has not only disappointed me as a cine goer but also as a member of our society.

The mighty Kangchenjunga

It was a cold winter day. And we started our drive from Gangtok, Sikkim to Pelling- a four hour drive through winding roads and mountains. The aim of this road trip was to sight the lofty Kangchenjunga-the third highest mountain in the world after Mount everest and K2.

On a clear day, locals told us that one could view Kangchenjunga from Gangtok, but we hadn't been fortunate enough to have seen that. So we headed west, to Pelling, to try our luck. Pelling- a sleepy town in western  Sikkim had nothing really to boast about except that it had Kangchenjunga in its backyard!  With our fingers crossed we started our journey. On our way to Pelling, we met tourists who were on their way back to Gangtok from Pelling. Most of them told us they hadn't been able to see the mountain ranges. Clouds had enveloped the entire region for almost two weeks. We were ready for disappointment. But we carried on. As our SUV struggled to climb the uphill mountainous roads, we were captivated by the serene beauty of the region. Alpine forests on both sides of the roads, the occasional waterfalls cascading its way down to the valley, the small villages where we stopped for some tea and momos made sure that we wouldn't be completely disappointed even if we didn't get to see the ranges.

We finally reached Pelling. It was a small town with one tiny bus station and a number of small hotels. We checked ourself into one of these many hotels. One of the first thing that I asked the hotel manager was if the weather had been clear in the last few days. He pointed out to what to me looked only like a wall of clouds and told me that all they had been able to see over the last two weeks was these clouds. He also said that if we wanted to see the mountains, we would have a much better chance early in the morning than any other time of the day. However he also said that we shouldn't be too optimistic. My heart sank. I decided that even if I couldn't see the mountain range, I would try to enjoy this wonderful little town and whatever little it had to offer.  While I was talking to the manager, I noticed that he was watching the series LOST. I was excited to find yet another LOST fan in this town. Since LOST seasons are not shown at the same time in India as here in the US, I realized that he was still watching season 4 while I had finished watching season 5. I sat along with him and started to tell him all that had happened in season 5. I don't think he appreciated that much and suggested that I might want to walk around and see the town. 

Taking his hints I decided to join my parents and we went walking around the town, which was a few stores, a few travel agencies, a state tourism office and a helipad. There were other tourists who were also wandering around like us not having a clue about what can be done in this tiny town. As the day ended and darkness fell on this little town, we didn't have much of an option but to go back to our hotel. After having a decent dinner at the hotel restaurant we went up to our room and curled into our beds with a small heater. 

I woke up before my parents did at about 5. I looked out of the window and saw white clouds floating at the horizon. I woke my parents up and waited for the sun to rise. At around 5:30, we saw a pink light on the horizon. We had been told that at times, one can see the snow on the mountains reflect the first rays of sun giving the illusion of pink. We were thrilled. We had caught the first glimpse of Kangchenjunga. We started taking pictures of that faint pink light...happy and content that we saw a little bit of the mountain ranges. But after fifteen minutes or so....the clouds on the horizon started thinning and the sun came up directing its spotlight on the mountain range. And then we saw, the mighty Kangchenjunga standing covered with ice and snow, rising up from the dense clouds around it. It looked like the warmth of the sun had compelled the mountains to shed its blanket of clouds. We could see five peaks of the mountain range with clouds gliding around it, sometimes giving the illusion of slicing the mountain into halves. We stared at the mighty Kangchenjunga for a while, mesmerized by its quiet power and benevolent presence. We did not click any photographs, we did not yell in excitement, we just stared...stared at its white glittering snow, stared at its proud stature, stared at its ancient peaks and stared at its simple beauty. We were hypnotized by its grandness. These mountain ranges are considered holy by the locals. Also, it is one of the most difficult peak to conquer (more than Mt.  Everest, I was told by our local guide).  Many have died on their way to the peak. And it is this aloofness of the mountains that we could feel when we watched it. It was as if, the mountains stood there to protect everyone from all that is evil, but still remained untouchable to us. The mountains stood like a connect between the mortal world and all that's beyond it. The sun light and the clouds played with each other to sometimes cover the mountain ranges and and sometimes allow it to peek out of the clouds in its entire glory.

Our hotel manager came running to our room, so that he could wake us up. He pointed to the different peaks of the ranges and told us the names of each one of them. He also said that we were indeed lucky since this was the first time after two weeks that they had seen the ranges. Now that I was out of trance, I quickly grabbed my camera and started taking pictures. As we started to get ready for the day, the mountains continued to bask in the warm winter morning sun. We drove around Pelling and we could see the mountains from every corner and every bend. There it stood like the all knowing, all encompassing entity, protecting its people and yet maintaing its distance. 

As noon approached the clouds once more won the game with the sun and engulfed the mountains within itself. We couldn't see the ranges, but we felt its presence around us. And now when I looked at the clouds in the horizon, I knew what it held within itself. One of the most magnificent sights in the world, one of the most revered mountains, one of the highest peaks in the world-the mighty Kangchenjunga.