Arun’s post started off a chain of thoughts in my mind ( acc 2 u all prob a jumble!) abt that mother ship of all ships- friendship. So what exactly is this elusive craft? A small row boat meandering through lazy life’s river, with u rowing sometimes and at other times letting ur frd do all the hard work?Or a huge tanker surging full-steam ahead, all on-board and having a ball (akin 2 the blog)? i was musing abt this and started thinking back 2 frdshps that came into my life and sometimes went out as abruptly as a fused bulb- gone kaput 4 no reason at all.
Frdshp is an essential part of our lives, thru childhood, angst-ridden adoles and immature adulthood. Sometimes a river, appearing suddenly from some source deep inside another person’s heart, starting sometimes as a tentative trickle, taking root slowly and then gradually maturing 2 a merry babbling brook, full of joy, shared times and shared pain. At other times in full spate like a river engorged with the fullness of life, sweeping you along and taking u 2 various places u did not know abt, then suddenly drying up and going underground like the elusive saraswati. reappering years later at unlikely places and in unlikely forms. Often it is like the tides, surging with happiness, rushing 2 meet u while ur heart has been reluctant and at an ebb. Sometimes it is like a mirage, shimmering tantalizingly out of reach, and when at last u have given up suddenly you r in a cool oasis, out of the arid desert. yet at all times, 4 me, it has been as soothing music for my soul. Each frd brings diff gifts into my life- I may seek out one 4 laughter, another 4 deep soul searching talks, a 3rd 4 the diff perspective she has and mayb a 4th 4 the way she counsels me out of my crises. However it is not fair 2 only talk of the fairer sex – the not-so-fair has also been my succor and my fireside.
Yet nothing can really match the deep understanding that is childhood frdshp. Untrammeled by social mores, free in spirit, u seek out frds whose spirit matches urs,whose minds resonate with urs and then ur hearts r full. Sometimes a pesky lil sis turns into a mature confidante, sometimes a snooty socialite turns out 2 b a caring human being, sometimes a plain jane morphs into an intelligent mind. And then there is no looking back. Ur spirits meet, ur minds soar, u r delighted. And this is something u cannot buy with money, gud looks or position- it has 2 come from the heart, because as the poet so rightly said – “ur frd is ur needs answered. He is ur board and ur fireside. 4 u come 2 him with ur hunger, and u seek him 4 peace……… 4 without words, in frdshp, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations r born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. 4 it is his 2 fill ur need but not ur emptiness. And in the sweetness of frdshp let there b laughter and sharing of pleasures. 4 in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed” . so all u jealous cats ( bocas) out there this one is 4 sarita and reena and 2 u all later . happy new year
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
When Miss Sarita "Sinha" pulled a fast one
To be honest when we were in school I had never interacted with Sarita. However when we met after thirty five years it seemed as if we were never separated. The next day Shankar dropped in and we caught up with each other after 25 years!!. After exchanging notes on Labradors and the times at Giri Road we then decided to catch up with Sarita. The conversation after some time veered round to Alps, Reena and the “Best friend” fiasco, thanks to Vims documented evidence.
It’s then that I suddenly recollected an interesting “story” around Reena’s family.
We were actually family friends and on quite a few occasions our family had met. Suddenly people around us began looking at us with a bit of awe. Very soon I found out the reason. According to the Berhampur grapevine the Kumar family were supposed to be related to the Bollywood star Vinod Khanna. So obviously we were in distinguished company.
When I heard about this, I distinctly remember telling this to my parents and expressed my desire to ask Kumar uncle whether this was a fact. I was severely reprimanded by dad and was told that it was bad manners to gossip and to listen to it. Till date I am not sure whether it is a fact or not. Maybe Reena, if she still goes through the blog can clarify on the same. But Sarita came out with something even more interesting.
Now Sarita’s mom is a Sinha. So to get some extra attention and “bhav” from her friends in her locality she spread the story that from her mom’s side she was related to the Bollywood star Shatrughan Sinha. For many months Sarita basked in the limelight of her new found “stardom” and got all the extra attention she craved for from her friends.
Then one fine day one of her friends told her mother who in turn enquired from Sarita’s mom about the latest update on Shatrughan Sinha. Sarita’s mom was taken aback and very soon came to know that thanks to her daughter she was now supposed to be a relative of Shatrughan Sinha!!
Sarita recollected how she was severely spoken to by her mom and how embarrassed she still feels when she recollects this childhood prank of hers!!
From the same slam-book blogged by Vims I have come to know that 31st December is her birthday.
So happy birthday Sarita "Sinha." May you continue to defy age with all your grace and charm!!
It’s then that I suddenly recollected an interesting “story” around Reena’s family.
We were actually family friends and on quite a few occasions our family had met. Suddenly people around us began looking at us with a bit of awe. Very soon I found out the reason. According to the Berhampur grapevine the Kumar family were supposed to be related to the Bollywood star Vinod Khanna. So obviously we were in distinguished company.
When I heard about this, I distinctly remember telling this to my parents and expressed my desire to ask Kumar uncle whether this was a fact. I was severely reprimanded by dad and was told that it was bad manners to gossip and to listen to it. Till date I am not sure whether it is a fact or not. Maybe Reena, if she still goes through the blog can clarify on the same. But Sarita came out with something even more interesting.
Now Sarita’s mom is a Sinha. So to get some extra attention and “bhav” from her friends in her locality she spread the story that from her mom’s side she was related to the Bollywood star Shatrughan Sinha. For many months Sarita basked in the limelight of her new found “stardom” and got all the extra attention she craved for from her friends.
Then one fine day one of her friends told her mother who in turn enquired from Sarita’s mom about the latest update on Shatrughan Sinha. Sarita’s mom was taken aback and very soon came to know that thanks to her daughter she was now supposed to be a relative of Shatrughan Sinha!!
Sarita recollected how she was severely spoken to by her mom and how embarrassed she still feels when she recollects this childhood prank of hers!!
From the same slam-book blogged by Vims I have come to know that 31st December is her birthday.
So happy birthday Sarita "Sinha." May you continue to defy age with all your grace and charm!!
"Angel at the Fence, The True Story of a Love that Survived"- Publisher cancels disputed Holocaust love story
Apropos of my earlier post titled 'Amazing-holocaust-love-story-lives-on'.
I owe it to all of you to send you this link.
Sad but true.
http://ca.news.yahoo.com/s/reuters/081229/entertainment/centertainment_us_books_holocaust
I owe it to all of you to send you this link.
Sad but true.
http://ca.news.yahoo.com/s/reuters/081229/entertainment/centertainment_us_books_holocaust
Monday, 29 December 2008
The Temple City Gives You Hope
Bhubaneshwar gave me a pleasant surprise. The first thing that strikes a visitor is that none of the walls of the city have posters chipkaoed on it. The walls of this city do not allow posters of Sharukh Khan with his six abs, Aamir with his 8 packs and other voluptuous heroines flaunting their assets. No grafittis, no advertisements are allowed on the walls of this temple city.
On the contrary every wall has become an avenue for artists to display their talent. Scenes from Indian mythology, Jagannath yatra and Orissa’s rich cultural heritage have been painted giving the city a very nice look indeed. Even the flyovers have been creatively used to display traditional designs and handicrafts of Orissa.
Apart from being a sight for sore eyes and giving a very neat look to the city it has greatly motivated the young and not so young struggling artists to earn their livelihood which is indeed great.
Apart from paintings, the broad streets of Bhubaneshwar and its roundabouts are also put to creative use by artistic display of natural rocks. Some of them are also chiseled and given shapes.
All the road-side vendors (a real menace in every Indian city) are being allotted pre-fabricated shops neatly laid out and at a fair d
istance from the roads. As a result the thatched huts threatening to encroach on to the streets have been by and large done away with and instead we see neat rows of green coloured shops.I believe most of the good work has been aggressively spearheaded by its dynamic lady Municipal Commissioner by the name of Mrs. Sarangi. Even the CM has backed all her initiatives and has kept politicking on this issue down to the minimum.
I know Bhub is no Singapore but at least there is a very serious attempt to make it a clean green and beautiful city.
The best part of this view point is that even if you differ with me all you have to do is to meet Nargis and Sarita.
You are then bound to agree with me that Bhubaneshwar is a beautiful city!!
Chasme baddoor. Kissi ki nazar na lage.
Sunday, 28 December 2008
Thursday, 25 December 2008
White Christmas in the outskirts of Cuttack
The development of organic chemistry in the 19th century introduced many new chemical compounds and the means to determine their molecular structures.
One of the first attempts to draw systematic correlations between molecules' structures and their tastes was made by a German chemist, Georg Cohn, in 1914. He advanced the hypothesis that in order to evoke a certain taste, a molecule must contain some structural motif (called a sapophore) that produced that taste. With regard to sweetness, he noted that molecules containing multiple hydroxyl groups and those containing chlorine atoms are often sweet, and that among a series of structurally similar compounds, those with smaller molecular were often sweeter than the larger compounds.
In 1919, Oertly and Myers proposed a more elaborate theory based on a then-current theory of colour in synthetic dyes. They hypothesized that in order to be
sweet, a compound must contain one each of two classes of structural motif, a glucophore and an auxogluc. Based on those compounds known to be sweet at the time, they proposed a list of six candidate glucophores and nine auxoglucs.From these beginnings in the early 20th century, the theory of sweetness enjoyed little further academic attention until 1963, when Robert Shallenberger and Terry Acree proposed the AH-B theory of sweetness. Simply put, they proposed that in order to be sweet, a compound must contain a hydrogen bond donor (AH) and a Lewis base (B) separated by about 0.3 nanometres.
The most elaborate theory of sweetness to date is the multipoint attachment theory (MPA) proposed by Jean-Marie Tinti and Claude Nofre in 1991. This theory involves a total of eight interaction sites between a sweetener and the sweetness receptor, although not all sweeteners interact with all eight sites. This model has successfully directed efforts aimed at finding highly potent sweeteners, including the most potent family of sweeteners known to date, the guanidine sweeteners. The most potent of these, lugduname, is about 225,000 times sweeter than sucrose.
Ha haa haaaa haaaaaaa!!!!In case you are sick of reading all this just drive around 10 to 12 kms from Cuttack towards BBSR. Get down at this signboard and you will forget everything about the theory and science of sweetness.
This village (Pahalo) has been in the profession of making rasogullas for probably hundreds of years. Much to the embarassment of Bongs it is we Oriyas who have the credit of discovering this mouth watering delight.(Though I must admit they pronounce it much better than anybody else in this planet).There is still some old world charm left in this village. For example yours truly, my Bhabhi and her colleague (the HOD of Botony Dept. Ravenshaw College) actually tasted three to four rasogullas each before deciding which was the freshest lot.
Someday I still hope to see a White Christmas but until then white for me would mean the whiteness of Pahalo rasogullas.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL.
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
Jai Hind ! : This One Is For Hilu
On the 12th of January, 1961 Hilu's parents saw a second show film in this very hall and then proceeded to Cuttack Medical College (see "Cuttack the rebuttal"). Today Hind talkies is in the ICU and almost seems to be crying for attention. I hope somebody nurses it back to its old glory. On the ground floor there is a cheap outlet for dress materials and nothing else.I personally saw one film during my childhood in this hall- Dev Anand's Janemaan when it came to the city the second time. Even during the seventies this hall was on the decline. I think the Oriya film " Gopo heley bhee sato" was released in this hall and did reasonably well.
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
One for the blog
Debashis and Sarita with Disha, Neelam (my bhabi), Anil (my brother) and Diganth. Disha and Diganth are their kids while Disha teaches at a Managment Institute Diganth is in the sixth semester pursuing computer Science. Bhabi teaches Life Sciences at Ravenshaw and Anil works in NALCO.Despite the fact that Debashis's uncle was in the ICU it was really gracious of them to drop down at my brothers residence in BBSR. We really had a good time talking about so many things about our school days.
Although it is difficult not to get bowled over by Sarita's charm it was Debashis who really is the quiet strength behind her. There is an element of stillness in his persona that really impressed me. It really made my trip to BBSR worthwhile. Thanks for everything Sarita and Debashis and do blog regularly there are already signs of our blog stagnating.
Like a whiff of fresh air
Professor Sarita (Alpana's BEST friend!!) came down to meet us at a very short notice. Her Hindi Miss was thrilled to bits. It was a real pleasure spending quality time with Sarita and her equally erudite and softspoken husband Mr. Debashis Panda.Sarita is indeed beautiful not only looks wise but even thought wise. She kept attracting compliments and when there was a lull, the ever chivalrous Debashis would ensure that the focus remained firmly on her.
There was one awkward moment when the ravages of time threatened to expose Sarita's age. I asked her for Nargis's number and there was just that little hint of a strain in her eyes as she began reading it out to me from her mobile. Debashis like the knight in the shining armoour jumped to the resuce of the damsel in distress and quickly snatched her mobile and began reading out the number himself. "The light here isn't good", was his excuse.
Now that was chooooo cute.
A School Of Excellence
This is the school just before the Barabati stadium and after the Cambridge School. My only intention behind visiting this haloed institution was to give Tas and Nargis a good Christmas gift from down the memory lane. Any other reason that is going through your minds is totally baseless, divorced from facts, purely fictional and thirty years too late! Chandi Mandir in Cuttack
Although BBSR is known as the temple city chandi mandir of Cuttack is a very popular deity in Orissa. Over the years it has maintained its cleanliness and still looks fresh. For some strange reason I was not allowed to click maa chandi. It was a good excuse to spend more time around St. Josephs' Convent and SB Womens College!!Now Lilly Don't Be Silly
I was in Cuttack recently and paid a visit to Chandi Mandir. But before entering it I couldn't help but chuckle at the name of this shop just adjacent to the temple. This is the very shop that doubles up as the 'shorbot' shop during summer!Sunday, 21 December 2008
Saturday, 20 December 2008
Merry X-mas
Here's wishing you all a Merry X-mas & a happy New Year.
This pic was taken today from my window. It is the view of the street outside and the building on the opposite side.
It has been snowing hard & the temp is -40c....its bone chilling cold!
The upside is that the whole place has been transformed into a kind of a fairy land.
The view is so much like a Christmas card that I decided to post it here with all my best wishes.
Have a great year ahead, folks.
TC.
Tasneem & family
Thursday, 18 December 2008
শুভ বড়দিন শুভ নববর্ষ ന വവത്സര ആശംസ
शुभ नाताळ नवीन वर्षच्या हार्दिक शुभेच्छा
ਕਰਿਸਮ ਤੇ ਨਵਾੰ ਸਾਲ ਖੁਸ਼ਿਯਾੰਵਾਲਾ ਹੋਵੇ
Afrikaans : Geseënde Kersfees en 'n gelukkige nuwe jaar Geseënde Kersfees en 'n voorspoedige Nuwe jaar !
Albanian : Gëzuar Krishtlindjet e Vitin e Ri !
Alsatian : E güeti Wïnâchte un e gleckichs Nej Johr !
Apache (Western) : Gozhqq Keshmish !
Arabic : Ajmel altehani bemonasebt almīlad wa helol alseneh aljedīdah ! kullu sina winta tayyib (to the men) and kullu sina winti tayyiba (to the ladies) !
Armenian : Shnorhavor Amanor yev Surb Tznund !
Belarusian : Z Bozym naradzenniem, Szczaslivych Kaliadau, Z Novym godam i Kaliadami !
Bosnian : Cestit Bozic i Sretna Nova godina !
Bulgarian : Čestita Koleda, Štastliva Nova Godina !
Chinese (Cantonese) : singdaanjit tùnhg sànnìhn faailohk, gung héi fáat chōi !
Chinese (Mandarin) : shèngdàn kuàilè xīnnián kuàilè, gōngx fācái !
Croatian : Sretan Božić! Sretna Nova godina!
Czech : Veselé vánoce a šťastný nový rok !
Danish : Glædelig jul og godt nytår !
Dutch : Prettige kerstdagen en een Gelukkig NieuwJaar!Zalig kerstfeest en gelukkig nieuwjaar !
Estonian : Rõõmsaid Jõule ja Head Uut Aastat Häid Jõule ja Head Uut Aastat !
Fijian : Me Nomuni na marau ni siga ni sucu dei na yabaki vou !
Finnish : Hyvää joulua ja onnellista uutta vuotta !
Flemish : Zalig Kerstfeest en Gelukkig nieuw jaar !
French : Joyeux Noël et bonne année !
German (Bavarian) : Froue Weihnåcht'n, und a guad's nei's Joah !
Greek : Kala Khristougenna kai Eutukhismeno to Neo Etos, Kalá hristoúgena ke kalí hroniá !
Greenlandic : Juullimi ukiortaasamilu pilluaritsi !
Hawaiian : Mele Kalikimaka me ka Hauoli Makahiki Hou !
Hebrew : Chag Molad Sameach v'Shanah Tovah !
Hungarian : Kellemes karácsonyt és boldog új évet !
Icelandic : Gleðileg jól og farsælt komandi ár, Gleðileg jól og farsælt nýtt ár !
Indonesian : Selamat Hari Natal dan Tahun Baru !
Irish : Nollaig shona duit, Bliain úr faoi shéan is faoi mhaise duit !
Italian : Buon Natale e felice anno nuovo !
Japanese : shinnen omedetō gozaimasu, akemashite omedetō gozaimasu !
Korean : meli kliseumaseu jal ji naego saehae pog manhi pateuseyo !
Latin : Natale hilare et annum faustum !
Malay : Selamat Hari Natal (Christmas)Selamat Tahun Baru (New Year) !
Mongolian : Tand kristmas ba shine jiliyn mend kh !
Nepalese : krismas ko subhakamana tatha nayabarsha ko subhakamana !
Norwegian : God jol og godt nyttår !
Persian : kerismas mobārak, sale no mobārak !
Russian : S Roždestvom Khristovym i S nastupayuščim Novym Godom !
Sicilian : Bon Natali e filici annu novu ! (To please the Mafia)
Spanish : ¡Feliz Navidad y próspero año nuevo!
Swedish : God jul och gott nytt år !
Thai : souksaan wan Christmas sawatdii pimaï !
Zulu : Sinifesela uKhisimusi oMuhle noNyaka oMusha oNempumelelo !
Sunday, 14 December 2008
Cuttack: The "rebuttal"
My introduction to Cuttack, or rather vice-versa, was on Jan. 12, 1961. My dad took my mother straight to CuttackMedical, from Hind Talkies, after the 2nd. show. Can't explain why, but that just embarasses me till today :-(
Grandpa's (Aja) house is in Chandini Chowk, where the old bus stand used to be. The major part of all the summer vacations in the 60s, at least the ones that I can remember were spent in Cuttack, at Aja "ghara" (mom would not have it any other way, and I did not have a say).
Aja and Aai (Nanaa & Nani) had umpteem grandkids, and so my being spoilt by grandparently love was out of question. Cuttack being part of the Mughal Bandi (as opposed to our very own sweet lovely BAM being from the Garjaat, why else would an area be called Chand(i)ni Chowk) had left its legacy- the living (drawing) room, at my Aja's place was called Baithak Khaana. Ah, thats where I met many an interesting Katki characters, like Sarat Babu (Aja to me) a Bengali pal of my grandpa's who would come in after 10 p.m to read the "Samaja" from cover to cover, as in his house they subscribed to the Prajatantra (another Oriya daily) only. Of course, Aai would ensure that he got his cup of tea, to add to the experience of paper reading (ugh, in our BAM after 10 p.m, if need be, we serve coffee).
The whole atmosphere exuded an almost eerie (well at that age of mine) romanticism. For e.g. grandpa's immediate neighbor to the left had 3 individuals - 2 sisters and a brother (contemporaries of my mamaas and mausies). The sisters were spinsters, and ran a printing press that they had inherited from their parents. The brother had gone insane, jilted by his beloved (so the story goes), needless to say a bachelor too, and the sisters had jointly decided to remain unmarried, in order to take care of him!
As much as this touched my heart, I personally could never verify if Ajit Mamu (the brother, mamaa to me, of course) was really totally insane. Discretion is always the better part of valor ;-)
The house on the right, once removed from my grandpa's, had this brat of a girl, a year older to me, called Jochhi (an aberration of "Jyotsna"). She studied in Vanasthali Vidyapeeth, Rajasthan and since I studied in a Convent, it was assumed we would be good friends. Guess again!
Anyway, in the Baithak Khaana, over many a sessions, spanning many years, I was informed of things, to name a few - Communism is bad; Naxals are misguided; Dilip Kumar is the best actor there ever will be; Americans are large-hearted; Berhampur is a rough place lacking in culture ;-)
Movies! Ah, my maternal side clan were a bunch of movie maniacs. 1st day, 1st show - naturally, they said. I remember, seeing (being taken to, I should say) "Talaash" (Rajendra Kumar & Sharmila Tagore) at Grand. When I said to them that it was not that great a movie (sincerely meant that), my youngest aunt retorted "Berhampur re se mankoda, Shammi Kapoor movie dekhi dekhi, taste boli bilkul kichhi nahin".
There were servants galore. Ram Nana was the head cook. Fakira only laid the bed at night and picked it up inthe morn. Subhaas' job was to pick flowers and offer it at Kaali Mandir. Narakhaari, a lady only pressed legs and another woman swept the floors in the morning and evening. And these were the major players.
We (lowlife grandkids like me) were supposed to address them with "tumay" (not "tu" like in BAM).
The Durga Pooja bisarjan on the 11th day of Dussehra, was another event (well sometimes CTC was also the detination for Puja break). All the "pratimaas" had to pass thru Chandini Chowk with much fanfare and emotion. Strangers would barge into the front verandah, and lordy sometimes even to the rooftop. Instead of being shooe'd away, they would be served lemonade!!! Anyways, family members had the best seat, from the 2nd floor (1st floor in our parlance). "Nani" a mamaa would ask my mother "BAM re 'medha' kemiti?". Mom would reply, "Bes bhala, sankhyaa re kaum, kintu CTC bhaliyaa, murty ra chehra re ettay madhurjya nahin". "Mom, that's subjective" I would mutter to myself.
So you musta hated going back eh, Hilu?
Well!
As time passed, I was able to ride in a bicycle and explored the city - Purighaat, Kaathjodi kula, Nim Chowdi, Chowdhury Bazaar, Tulsipur, Mohammadia Bazaar, I started tuning into their frequency.
The awesome taste of the Rama Nana's cooking. Mamma Mia! The aloo, baigan, pumpkin (boitaalu - orange colored) chhenchki with rumaali roti, the dalmaa. And if Aja felt like it, Biriyani from Mohammadia Bazaar would be ordered.
Dolamundai lassi.
My Aai would always always make her signature paan, and send 20 (each had a clove stuck to it) in a silver batuua for my 2 older brothers and dad.
The Katki mixture and singhara (samosa), that mom would buy as we were returning to BAM, as the bus to BAM meandered thru the whole city starting from Chandini Chowk.
Heck, one could never get Cuttack outta mom, and if she loved it, it couldn't have been all bad.
And if u ever have spent your childhood summer vacation in a place, just once ..., well I spent many at Cuttack.
CUTTACK, why I love that place too! There are a few exceptional situations though like -
1. BAM vs CTC in a soccer match.
2.
...
97.
98.
...
U get the idea ;-)
Rare videos of the forgotten India, our leaders and our history
Hi guys,
I found this lovely site with some wonderful, rare videos of India of the 30s and 40s which we can share with our kids. Some great dadi/nani stories can also be read here by logging in with your google account.
Go ahead and enjoy.
http://www.dadinani.com/videos
Beating Stress
Strange how sometimes the most innocuous of things can bust your stress.
Last night, I helped my niece and her friends in making a gingerbread house. Boy! That they had loads of fun is an understatement.
It was delightful watching their pure joy as they designed and assembled the house, set up the roof and then decorated the whole thing with candy ornaments.
It was a very messy affair though and the little ones had a hard time not licking the 'glue' which was made of flavoured icing! The house reverberated with their laughter and their excitement was certainly infectious ... I felt a strange kind of exhilaration and joy that I hadn't felt in a long, long time. The feeling was extraordinary and magical.
The end result was very colourful and eyecatching and I marvelled at the creativity of these little seven year olds. The kids looked so pleased with their handiwork and I was happy to have helped them.
I suddenly realised that my stress had just miraculously seeped out of my system.
The simple joys in live can give one so much of satisfaction...one doesn't need to spend through one's nose to get that elusive 'nirvana'...it is the the magic that surrounds us every moment.You can see it in the beautiful sunset, you can feel it in the breeze on your cheeks, you can hear it in the sounds of the birds chirping, you can experience it when you get a smile of gratitude from someone whom you've had the fortune to help.
We are so caught up in the grind of our daily stressful lives that we fail to notice the little things that make life so sweet (n I don't mean chenna podo!!)... one needs to only seek it out and savour it...stress will be a thing of the past!.
Saturday, 13 December 2008
Recession in our BLOG and the World Over
So what is a recession?
A recession is a decline in a country's gross domestic product (GDP) growth for two or more consecutive quarters of a year. A recession is also preceded by several quarters of slowing down.
What causes it?
An economy which grows over a period of time tends to slow down the growth as a part of the normal economic cycle. An economy typically expands for 6-10 years and tends to go into a recession for about six months to 2 years.
A recession normally takes place when consumers lose confidence in the growth of the economy and spend less.
This leads to a decreased demand for goods and services, which in turn leads to a decrease in production, lay-offs and a sharp rise in unemployment.
Investors spend less as they fear stocks values will fall and thus stock markets fall on negative sentiment.
A recession is a decline in a country's gross domestic product (GDP) growth for two or more consecutive quarters of a year. A recession is also preceded by several quarters of slowing down.
What causes it?
An economy which grows over a period of time tends to slow down the growth as a part of the normal economic cycle. An economy typically expands for 6-10 years and tends to go into a recession for about six months to 2 years.
A recession normally takes place when consumers lose confidence in the growth of the economy and spend less.
This leads to a decreased demand for goods and services, which in turn leads to a decrease in production, lay-offs and a sharp rise in unemployment.
Investors spend less as they fear stocks values will fall and thus stock markets fall on negative sentiment.
So my dear Bloggers, come back and purchase space , re-start the fever which has petered down. One purchase somewhere triggers a chain and the economy is back into a healthy state. So would be our blog!
Capitalist bloggers like Faiyaz and Arun too have gone into a recession !
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
SVC Updates
Hi Folks!
Did u all know that the SVC group in India has completed 88yrs of service and the first conglomeration of"The Little Flower Bechany" was held in India at Manglore 3weeks back. Another miles stone acheived today i.e., 10.12.08, by the St.Vincent Convent Berhampur was, the first Newsletter " ORION" was released.I think I am lucky to get a copy of it.Unfortunately only 1500 copies were printed. I shall post it on the blog once I get my copy.
Did u all know that the SVC group in India has completed 88yrs of service and the first conglomeration of"The Little Flower Bechany" was held in India at Manglore 3weeks back. Another miles stone acheived today i.e., 10.12.08, by the St.Vincent Convent Berhampur was, the first Newsletter " ORION" was released.I think I am lucky to get a copy of it.Unfortunately only 1500 copies were printed. I shall post it on the blog once I get my copy.
Spirit of India
Hi folks,
I came across this article in today's TOI and was so bowled over by the never-say-die attitude of this brave young couple that I just had to share it with all of you.
Hats off to Nirmala & Shankar....we are proud of you. Wishing you a long, happy and peaceful married life May we have many more such determined youngsters who will not allow any terrorist to faze their zeal and desire to live a safe & fulfilling life.
SHOT AT CST, GIRL GETS MARRIED WITH SHRAPNEL IN HER HEAD.
10 Dec 2008, 0313 hrs IST, Pushpa Narayan, TNN
CHENNAI: Nirmala Shankar got married on November 30. She had everything on her — the make-up, wedding sari, jewels and flower garlands — just like a perfect bride.But she also had a piece of a bullet stuck to the frontal lobe on the right side of her brain. It had hit her head when the terrorists opened fire at the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus on November 26, as she was waiting to catch a train to start a new life in Chennai.
Nirmala had quit her job in the HR department in Mumbai-based Edelweiss Securities to settle down in Chennai with K Shankar Narayanan, a manager with Shell India. "We first met on September 13 and the following day our families decided on the wedding plans," she says.
Eventually, the couple did keep their date, but it took a lot of doing. Four days before the wedding, while the prospective bride and her family were waiting to board the Chennai Mail at CST, Nirmala was among the 100 seriously injured in the firing.
Shot in the head, she was rushed to St George's Hospital and later JJ Hospital, Mumbai. With the hospital teeming with casualties and doctors weighed down by VIP visits and media scrutiny, her family overnight decided to move her to Chennai for better attention. Her father, Ponnudurai, who works with RBI, then brought her back to Chennai, against medical advice.
Nirmala told her family she did not want the wedding to be called off. "I met my fiance the next time in the hospital on Thursday with the injury. We decided nothing would change our wedding plans," she says.
The same day, medical tests confirmed there was shrapnel in the frontal lobe of her brain. When Nirmala's father took her reports to a neurosurgeon at Apollo Specialities, doctors confirmed she would require immediate surgery.
"But the family did not want to postpone the wedding. We had little option but to put the patient on a broad spectrum antibiotic to ensure that the infection did not spread. The injection had to be taken every 12 hours," says L Murugan, neurosurgeon, Apollo Specialities Hospital.
"I was a little scared," says Shankar. "It was raining and the doctors had told me to ensure that she didn't get her head wet. But it was the third time we were meeting and I couldn't say no to her. So we did everything as per plan, shopping included," he says, drawing her close.
Twenty-four hours later, the two families and their relatives gathered for the reception followed by the muhurtham on Sunday morning.
The next day, Shankar and Nirmala walked into the hospital for her surgery. The doctors performed a minimal access brain surgery using neuro-navigation, where they drilled into the skull with an intra-operative ultrasonogram and laser.
"It's like a GPS. We track the metal piece on the computer screen and then remove it with minimal cuts. We did see some more metal pieces scattered on the scalp but we did not remove it as they were too tiny. But she has responded well and is likely to be discharged on Wednesday," Dr Murugan says.
Now Nirmala plans to return to Mumbai for further treatment. "It's the place I grew up. It's my city and I love it. Nothing can change that. I would want to go there for my treatment and return when I am fine," she says smiling at Shankar, who nods in approval.
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
Beats me, how did I manage to meet so many friends...
Hi, I met some beautiful folks over the last one month! It began with Tulip (Sushmita's daughter) in Pune, Venu in Hyderabad, Ms.Shamim in Bangalore and finally Arun and Stanley in Mumbai. It was great meeting each one of them.TULIP: I was in Pune when Sushmita called and she insisted that i meet her daughter. I had a hectic schedule out there but fortunately one evening i got free a bit early and Tulip's office happened to be close by. Talkative, friendly, very polite and as beautiful as her mom… Thatz what Tulip is. Unfortunately, I could not catch up with Ashu and Udaya.
VENU: Prior to this, our meeting was probably some time in 1982 or so, at the basketball court – Khallikote College Ground. “Venu, what does beats me! Mean”? I queried at that time. And he patiently explained the term. I reminded him about the same this time. “I used to read a lot of comics those days and probably could explain” was his modest reply. (Venu, thanks a ton for that fabulous Chinese dinner! The place was great too!). Got Venu to catch up with Sancheta and others. Thro him I got in touch with Nanda Nandan Das.
MISS SHAMIM: I got in touch with her the day I landed but was not sure of meeting coz the days ahead were to be hectic. Fortunately I got free early one evening and landed at her place. Had a wonderful time... She enquired about each one of us. Got her to talk to Ms.Brenda and Mrs.Bhatt.
ARUN & STANLEY: We had fun!! You read about it on the blog already…
Sunday, 7 December 2008
a week ago -
how do you cope with senseless terrorism - besieging a city you lived in, came to love and reached a semblence of adulthood in? yes Tas , adulthood does not automatically come with chronological age, though we would dearly like to believe it. ur post sais it all -capturing the fleeting suddeness of youth (were we young once or do we now thinjk that we were young sometime in the past?) and truly, a child gives birth to a mother, as a womwn gives birth to a child. while we wish that your lovely daughter (and mine ) inherit a better world, we have to tell them abt one painful tryth abt adulthood - that life is not fair! and it is for them to wake up and try to make it a better, more tolerant, more logical place than the one it is now. The story I want to tell them is of a city set by the sea. It was a sprawling metropolis, dirty and crowded but bustling with life. Every day, it opened its heart and doors to around 5000 new migrants who knocked at her doors in search of the proverbial pot of gold (perhaps like jacks london, its streets were paved with gold?).a young bride arrived there and was immediately bowled over, not by the handsome stranger she had so recently wed, but by the effervescent city, its people, its ATTITUDE and by its gung-ho spirit. this siren by the sea offered an environment that was uniquely its own, where people from all communities, religions and sexes could work shoulder – to- shoulder and acceptance was its mantra ( despite occ deprecatory noises made by a certain ageing lion and his ineffectual nephew). Its streets were safe, even for women, its local mode of transportation fast, meticulous, efficient and incredibly punctual. People went about their businesses with no interference from others and with no wish 2 interfere in others business. if this place had a fault it was its insularity. “ to each his own” was the motto and perhaps taken to its furthermost limit. You barely knew ur next- door neighbour and were proud of the fact. People did not fraternize (except 4 a bunch of loonies calling themselves the – what was it?- SVCians who went 2 grt lengths to meet each other) – they were too busy chasing this golden songbird. The underworld was a peripheral shadow, smuggling entailed nothing more sinister than gold to satisfy some housewife’s avarice or imported liquor to sate some alcoholics palate. The dark underbelly beneath the glitter was conveniently forgotten.
This city spun dreams and created unlikely heroes-luring gangly men and curvy women 2 sell body, soul and perhaps spirit in an attempt to flash their faces and names on the marquee. Yet the city offered the simple pleasures of life to people of every denomination. The queens necklace winked seductively for both the rajah and the beggar, inviting them to enjoy its wind-swept expanse on both foot or in a flashy merc. You could dine like a king in its five-stars on cuisine from ard the world but would probably have a better culinary experience eating off its pavement stalls. Transport meant jostling with the kolins and their humungous baskets, meals arrived at your doorstep, carried enormous distances in an increbly efficient system run by illiterate dabbawallahs who won the admiration of a prince, Sunday feasts were often oily omelettes and pavs doled out from the top of a kerosene stove but time permitting could also mean fresh fish made koliwada style that came wrapped in newspaper. This city was lenient with ur mistakes – you could finish work on ur hubbys bday close 2 midnight, rush down to the lobby florist and armed with bouquet, cake and an absolutely foolish disregard 4 the lateness of the hour travel by the train 2 the suburbs with nothing more dangerous than a few raised eyebrows coming ur way.
Yet this very heart of the nation is now caught in the cross-hairs of the terrorist’s gun. Hard core terrorists sail into her waters, taking advantage of the insular attitude of its denizens. The poor mans underground ( albeit aboveground) is a soft, easy and prime target everytime. weary souls tired out after a long day’s grind, waiting to go home are being mowed down while its police force stands ineptly by with antiquated firearms and totally clueless abt the enormity of the situation.it’s rich have not been spared either- holed up in plush suites, waiting, dreading the knock on the door, hearing the gunfire or trying to attract the attention of potential life-savers from high – rise glass windows.
It’s politicians have displayed utter callousness in this time of tragedy and need – rubbing salt into the wounded psyche and soul of this city and the citizenry. The ex-cm paraded around as if on a Sunday perambulation, with b-grade directors and even more third grade actor son in tow, viewing the bullet ridden walls as if it were the latest art exhibit. Then he stuck 2 his chair and did not deign to apologize, instead reiterating that he had done no wrong. Its then home minister avers that “aise to chote hadse hote hi rahte hain “ and that is no reason he should resign- as if terrorists walking coolly into ur capital on an innocent shooting spree ( come on man where is the famous resilience u showed so far- get up and take this in ur stride!) are not to be hoo-haaed over. Central ministers were not lagging in this pathetic race of putting their grt big foot into their grter big mouths. A certain mr ahmed wanted to know whether it is the grt ministers job to take a gun and guard the countrys borders or else a boat and patrol its waters. No siree, ur job is just to strut ard with black-cat commandos guarding your useless life while the stupid Comman Man should fall meekly to the ground and die like a dog, unlamented and unmourned in its gutters. While one grt bjp leader declares that idiotic women in decadent western attire ( read jeans and lipstick) have no business offering sympathy and criticizing the honorable ministers who have their hands full trying to come to grips with the situation and the terrorists.So Mumbai and ultimately India – is this a wake up call or just a portent of things to come? Will u continue with ur oh-so-famous resilience and soldier on regardless or will you take action? Will u become pro-active, ditch ur chalta-hai attitude and grow alert to the dangers in ur midst? Will u rid ur streets of terrorism and make them safe for ur children?will Mumbai be able to restore the previous law and order situation and once again become the siren city with a large heart? Only we can make a difference .
This city spun dreams and created unlikely heroes-luring gangly men and curvy women 2 sell body, soul and perhaps spirit in an attempt to flash their faces and names on the marquee. Yet the city offered the simple pleasures of life to people of every denomination. The queens necklace winked seductively for both the rajah and the beggar, inviting them to enjoy its wind-swept expanse on both foot or in a flashy merc. You could dine like a king in its five-stars on cuisine from ard the world but would probably have a better culinary experience eating off its pavement stalls. Transport meant jostling with the kolins and their humungous baskets, meals arrived at your doorstep, carried enormous distances in an increbly efficient system run by illiterate dabbawallahs who won the admiration of a prince, Sunday feasts were often oily omelettes and pavs doled out from the top of a kerosene stove but time permitting could also mean fresh fish made koliwada style that came wrapped in newspaper. This city was lenient with ur mistakes – you could finish work on ur hubbys bday close 2 midnight, rush down to the lobby florist and armed with bouquet, cake and an absolutely foolish disregard 4 the lateness of the hour travel by the train 2 the suburbs with nothing more dangerous than a few raised eyebrows coming ur way.
Yet this very heart of the nation is now caught in the cross-hairs of the terrorist’s gun. Hard core terrorists sail into her waters, taking advantage of the insular attitude of its denizens. The poor mans underground ( albeit aboveground) is a soft, easy and prime target everytime. weary souls tired out after a long day’s grind, waiting to go home are being mowed down while its police force stands ineptly by with antiquated firearms and totally clueless abt the enormity of the situation.it’s rich have not been spared either- holed up in plush suites, waiting, dreading the knock on the door, hearing the gunfire or trying to attract the attention of potential life-savers from high – rise glass windows.
It’s politicians have displayed utter callousness in this time of tragedy and need – rubbing salt into the wounded psyche and soul of this city and the citizenry. The ex-cm paraded around as if on a Sunday perambulation, with b-grade directors and even more third grade actor son in tow, viewing the bullet ridden walls as if it were the latest art exhibit. Then he stuck 2 his chair and did not deign to apologize, instead reiterating that he had done no wrong. Its then home minister avers that “aise to chote hadse hote hi rahte hain “ and that is no reason he should resign- as if terrorists walking coolly into ur capital on an innocent shooting spree ( come on man where is the famous resilience u showed so far- get up and take this in ur stride!) are not to be hoo-haaed over. Central ministers were not lagging in this pathetic race of putting their grt big foot into their grter big mouths. A certain mr ahmed wanted to know whether it is the grt ministers job to take a gun and guard the countrys borders or else a boat and patrol its waters. No siree, ur job is just to strut ard with black-cat commandos guarding your useless life while the stupid Comman Man should fall meekly to the ground and die like a dog, unlamented and unmourned in its gutters. While one grt bjp leader declares that idiotic women in decadent western attire ( read jeans and lipstick) have no business offering sympathy and criticizing the honorable ministers who have their hands full trying to come to grips with the situation and the terrorists.So Mumbai and ultimately India – is this a wake up call or just a portent of things to come? Will u continue with ur oh-so-famous resilience and soldier on regardless or will you take action? Will u become pro-active, ditch ur chalta-hai attitude and grow alert to the dangers in ur midst? Will u rid ur streets of terrorism and make them safe for ur children?will Mumbai be able to restore the previous law and order situation and once again become the siren city with a large heart? Only we can make a difference .
Thursday, 4 December 2008
Absolutely FanTAStic!!!
Not only TAS Delivered a Beauty - but even QANTAS!
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Use the "Arrows and +/- " or rotate the mouse,
you can see the photo 360° zoom in/out /! Do whatever...!!!!
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http://www.a380delivery.com/qantas/panos/tour/tour/index.html
Just click on the link.
Use the "Arrows and +/- " or rotate the mouse,
you can see the photo 360° zoom in/out /! Do whatever...!!!!
Just click on the link.
http://www.a380delivery.com/qantas/panos/tour/tour/index.html
My daughter has reached a new milestone: Adulthood
Today is my lovely daughter Alisha's twenty-first birthday. Since I miss her so much, I wanted to honour her on her special day through our blog.
I remember the day she was born, like it was only yesterday. My life changed magically the very moment she came into this world. I became the proud mother of my ‘first-born’. She gave me a new life as I brought her to one. When I think about that day, what I remember most vividly is how she looked and what she did during her first moments of life. She was so healthy looking; chubby pink cheeks, a round head of soft brown hair, dark jewel-like eyes and fingers already grasping for a hold. She opened her eyes and looked straight into mine. I have no idea if she could focus yet, but I prefer to think that I was her first image on earth. She was the most beautiful baby in the whole universe and as my equally wondrous husband gently placed her in my arms, I remember myself crooning and whispering the words ‘my little princess’ softly into her little shell-like ear.
The rigours of adolescence and the pressures that all teens go through have not changed her one bit. She is the most beautiful, calm, God-fearing, talented, gentle and compassionate girl I have ever known. Her independent spirit, her eagerness to take challenges, her work ethics, and her willingness to accept people for who they are makes me, on this day especially, an exceptionally proud mother.
Now as she crosses the threshold into womanhood, I know that in a few years time she wil marry and leave us to start a new home of her own; till then, I will continue to savour our special mother-daughter bonding, enjoy our shopping sprees, our cooking sessions, watch her pirouetting in her new outfits like a fashion model, willingly be subjected to her motherly fussing when I’m ill, catch a movie together or the times we would just loll around chatting and gossiping about all and sundry. When she was much younger, she used to refer to these as ‘girl-girl things’ as opposed to the 'boy-boy' activities that her father and brother indulged in. These priceless moments were our 'special quality times' together which I will hold close to my heart all my life.
Dearest Alisha….I want you to know that I’ll always cherish the wonder and joy of watching you grow into a beautiful young lady. I am and shall always be proud to announce to the world “This is my lovely daughter”. Thank you for bringing joy to Papa's and my life in so many different ways.
Happy birthday sweetheart and congratulations on entering the portals of adulthood. It entails a lot of responsibilities and I'm sure you will shoulder them with ease. Make the most of your twenties for these are some of the most beautiful years in a woman’s life.
God bless you.
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
My Non-Cooperation Movement
The other day I received a very interesting SMS. It said:
‘Terrorists do not come only in boats
They also come asking for votes’.
Even though this is purely topical and might soon prove nonsensical, I’ve decided to store it in my mental quote bank. For right now it seems to be a desperate cry. Of the silent majority of the Indians! We all know that both these kind of species thrive on the fuel of publicity. And who better to fan that fire than the media.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a grieving martyr’s father’s ire in Bangalore was not personal but directed against a superfluous political drama. I can’t even pretend to imagine what the family of the sacrificial lions in uniform must be going through. So all that spirit of mumbai jumbo can go take a hike. After every blast we just cannot don on our famous chalta hai robes and assume normalcy in our lives. Not after a tragedy of this magnitude! Therefore each citizen, irrespective of the fact of whether they have lost a child, a parent, a friend or a relation and irrespective of their geographical locations, should take out some time. To grieve. To feel violated. To feel angry. And to make a national resolve to combat terrorism! There should be absolutely no place in our lives at a period like this, to start our famous blame game. That in any case is the prerogative of our leaders.
It's a shame that even beore the embers of the Taj had died down, the political picnic has already begun. Inside the burning hotels, the Staff was trying to redefine our famous Indian hospitality by forming human shields so that the guests could escape. And outside, the leaders were busy scoring political points. Even while our soldiers were proving as graceful advertisements for our nation, our politicians were busy demonstrating themselves as hoardings of disgrace.
While heads are being rolled, the ‘terror tourism’ of the Taj continues. This, apart from the usual tu tu main main of the BJP blaming the Congress, the Congress blaming the Intelligence, the Intelligence blaming the Security Agencies, the Security Agencies blaming the Mumbai Police and Everybody blaming Somebody. Wonder when we will ever be able to put our nationality before our political, occupational or religious differences. Wonder when we will learn to accept our mistakes. As from our neighbours, all we need is a little cooperation. Is that too much to ask? Especially since both the countries are now powered with a ‘newk’ind of deal that guarantees the forfeiting of more innocent lives. Just in case some wise heads do decide to think otherwise.
While one Indian flag is now ensconced in the heart of the moon, another was planted in front of the Gateway Of India. Both swirl with the winds of change. If one denotes a revolutionary victory the other spells a monumental tragedy. I just cannot put into words my feelings as I watched the Taj billowing in smoke. Only then did I understand what the Americans must have felt when the Twin Towers came crashing down. It is said that when your heart is on fire, smoke gets in your eyes. But of course my vision was very clear that day. And yet for the first time in my life I was watching the News Channel with clouded eyes. It felt like a condensed replay of what India would have gone through all these centuries. A country, seeped in glorious traditions, rooted in rituals. Raided. Invaded. Plundered. Ravaged. And yet withstanding all that and more. The Taj will be rebuilt. Just like our nation was. But with the bricks of some awful memories! So if the Taj Mahal is the symbol of love, the Taj Hotel will now stand as the symbol of resilience.
Who says terrorism does not have a religion? It has. Just like every other believer’s act of faith has an innate spirit, the terrorist’s every deed of dedication has an inbuilt sensationalism. If the rest of the world believes in God, this not so misguided soul believes in the Devil. If the rest of the world believes in Good, this cold- blooded fanatic believes in the Evil. His ideologies are hollow. They are irrational. Mindless. Senseless. Unfounded. As for his philosophy- well, all I can say is that it is different. Radically different!
The least we can do is to realise once and for all that the face of a country is not that of the Parliament’s alone. It is the face of every ordinary citizen like us. If we only know too well that votebank politics is a sure shot recipe for national disaster, we should also know better than to stop depending on our leaders and learn to plan our own menus. If we only know too well the toll that terrorism takes, we should also be willing to forsake some of our liberties and our hateful ideologies. If we only know too well that it is nearly impossible for us to face a determined group of maniacal militants, we should also be willing to go through the fuss and the fiddle that requires a nation to be safe. If we only know too well that Frankenstein’s global monsters are already on the loose, we should also be willing NOT to weaken the hands of the law so as to indirectly strengthen some trigger- happy hands.
And if we do not agree to all of the above, we have to live with the fact that it is always the common and the innocent man that is going to be cut down again and again. What kind of a freedom is this anyway, where our leaders can fearlessly continue to play musical chairs while the common tax paying man is afraid to even step out of his house.
So, will I vote this year? Yes, I definitely will! That is my right. But not for anyone in particular. There is an option in the ballot paper that says- ‘I vote for Nobody’. That would be where I will stamp my approval. I know my whisper of a Nobody vote will be lost in the cacophony of the other more meaningful symbols. But this is my silent revolution. And however utopian it might sound I will cast my vote and continue to dream. Hoping that one day this antiquated Nobody government, which seems to have lost its archaic spine, will finally give way to a new one which can make Everybody feel safe.
So for the time being I am making a big investment. Not in the unpredictable stock market. But in the promising youth of our country. And the day they deliver my dream, I will again cast my vote. And hope that then it will count. Till such time I will continue with my Non-Cooperation Movement.
This is a time for a collective grief. Not an opportunity to whip up passions and create a cocktail of bitterness and divide. And if we take this gruesome incident and use it to create a civil war or even transcend it to just another of those clichéd elevens, that would be like an insult. Not only to the targeted innocents but also to the true martyrs of our country.
Jai Hind!
(Originally posted at sulekha.com)
© Nargis Natarajan., all rights reserved.
‘Terrorists do not come only in boats
They also come asking for votes’.
Even though this is purely topical and might soon prove nonsensical, I’ve decided to store it in my mental quote bank. For right now it seems to be a desperate cry. Of the silent majority of the Indians! We all know that both these kind of species thrive on the fuel of publicity. And who better to fan that fire than the media.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a grieving martyr’s father’s ire in Bangalore was not personal but directed against a superfluous political drama. I can’t even pretend to imagine what the family of the sacrificial lions in uniform must be going through. So all that spirit of mumbai jumbo can go take a hike. After every blast we just cannot don on our famous chalta hai robes and assume normalcy in our lives. Not after a tragedy of this magnitude! Therefore each citizen, irrespective of the fact of whether they have lost a child, a parent, a friend or a relation and irrespective of their geographical locations, should take out some time. To grieve. To feel violated. To feel angry. And to make a national resolve to combat terrorism! There should be absolutely no place in our lives at a period like this, to start our famous blame game. That in any case is the prerogative of our leaders.
It's a shame that even beore the embers of the Taj had died down, the political picnic has already begun. Inside the burning hotels, the Staff was trying to redefine our famous Indian hospitality by forming human shields so that the guests could escape. And outside, the leaders were busy scoring political points. Even while our soldiers were proving as graceful advertisements for our nation, our politicians were busy demonstrating themselves as hoardings of disgrace.
While heads are being rolled, the ‘terror tourism’ of the Taj continues. This, apart from the usual tu tu main main of the BJP blaming the Congress, the Congress blaming the Intelligence, the Intelligence blaming the Security Agencies, the Security Agencies blaming the Mumbai Police and Everybody blaming Somebody. Wonder when we will ever be able to put our nationality before our political, occupational or religious differences. Wonder when we will learn to accept our mistakes. As from our neighbours, all we need is a little cooperation. Is that too much to ask? Especially since both the countries are now powered with a ‘newk’ind of deal that guarantees the forfeiting of more innocent lives. Just in case some wise heads do decide to think otherwise.
While one Indian flag is now ensconced in the heart of the moon, another was planted in front of the Gateway Of India. Both swirl with the winds of change. If one denotes a revolutionary victory the other spells a monumental tragedy. I just cannot put into words my feelings as I watched the Taj billowing in smoke. Only then did I understand what the Americans must have felt when the Twin Towers came crashing down. It is said that when your heart is on fire, smoke gets in your eyes. But of course my vision was very clear that day. And yet for the first time in my life I was watching the News Channel with clouded eyes. It felt like a condensed replay of what India would have gone through all these centuries. A country, seeped in glorious traditions, rooted in rituals. Raided. Invaded. Plundered. Ravaged. And yet withstanding all that and more. The Taj will be rebuilt. Just like our nation was. But with the bricks of some awful memories! So if the Taj Mahal is the symbol of love, the Taj Hotel will now stand as the symbol of resilience.
Who says terrorism does not have a religion? It has. Just like every other believer’s act of faith has an innate spirit, the terrorist’s every deed of dedication has an inbuilt sensationalism. If the rest of the world believes in God, this not so misguided soul believes in the Devil. If the rest of the world believes in Good, this cold- blooded fanatic believes in the Evil. His ideologies are hollow. They are irrational. Mindless. Senseless. Unfounded. As for his philosophy- well, all I can say is that it is different. Radically different!
The least we can do is to realise once and for all that the face of a country is not that of the Parliament’s alone. It is the face of every ordinary citizen like us. If we only know too well that votebank politics is a sure shot recipe for national disaster, we should also know better than to stop depending on our leaders and learn to plan our own menus. If we only know too well the toll that terrorism takes, we should also be willing to forsake some of our liberties and our hateful ideologies. If we only know too well that it is nearly impossible for us to face a determined group of maniacal militants, we should also be willing to go through the fuss and the fiddle that requires a nation to be safe. If we only know too well that Frankenstein’s global monsters are already on the loose, we should also be willing NOT to weaken the hands of the law so as to indirectly strengthen some trigger- happy hands.
And if we do not agree to all of the above, we have to live with the fact that it is always the common and the innocent man that is going to be cut down again and again. What kind of a freedom is this anyway, where our leaders can fearlessly continue to play musical chairs while the common tax paying man is afraid to even step out of his house.
So, will I vote this year? Yes, I definitely will! That is my right. But not for anyone in particular. There is an option in the ballot paper that says- ‘I vote for Nobody’. That would be where I will stamp my approval. I know my whisper of a Nobody vote will be lost in the cacophony of the other more meaningful symbols. But this is my silent revolution. And however utopian it might sound I will cast my vote and continue to dream. Hoping that one day this antiquated Nobody government, which seems to have lost its archaic spine, will finally give way to a new one which can make Everybody feel safe.
So for the time being I am making a big investment. Not in the unpredictable stock market. But in the promising youth of our country. And the day they deliver my dream, I will again cast my vote. And hope that then it will count. Till such time I will continue with my Non-Cooperation Movement.
This is a time for a collective grief. Not an opportunity to whip up passions and create a cocktail of bitterness and divide. And if we take this gruesome incident and use it to create a civil war or even transcend it to just another of those clichéd elevens, that would be like an insult. Not only to the targeted innocents but also to the true martyrs of our country.
Jai Hind!
(Originally posted at sulekha.com)
© Nargis Natarajan., all rights reserved.
Tuesday, 2 December 2008
I personally do beleive that if only the media stopped giving so much coverage to terrorism, the incentive for terrorists will be much less to act. People who are affected by these actions would like to grief in private, people who are not affected do not really need to see the pain/relief/heroism/etc......and more importantly the terrorist DO NOT DESERVE the advertisement !!
The following was written by Sona Jain.....picked it up from a facebook post
India watched in horror as images on our TV screens showed NSG commandos being dropped from a helicopter onto the rooftop of Nariman House on Friday morning. We counted the number of commandos, could see their landing spot and the doors behind which they disappeared. So perhaps could the terrorist masterminds directing their operatives inside Nariman House through satellite phones. At Nariman House, we lost five innocents and one commando. The terrorist masterminds had a clear mission- to create mayhem and spread fear. In their quest for higher ratings, did the Indian media become an unwitting partner in the terrorist masterminds’ quest?There are cases of high-profile persons found murdered inside hotels, whose presence in the hotels had been revealed on television while terrorists still had control of the hotels. In some cases, relatives had been interviewed and these interviews were repeatedly broadcast. Even if the harried relatives did not have the clarity of thought at such a traumatic time to withhold the identity and last known location of their loved one, isn’t there a media code-of-conduct in place that instructs editors of news organizations from muffling such stories till the missing person is out of harm’s way? Is it possible that carrying such information on TV- that is easily accessible to the terrorists- may have put some missing person in jeopardy?What do our NSG jawans think of the media’s minute-by-minute reporting of their strength and movement inside the Taj Hotel while their operation was underway? Did such reporting compromise a single effort or put a single life at risk? We have heard that the authorities asked all media outlets to stop such reporting and desist from showing images of locations where security forces were operating. Sadly no media outlet complied, atleast not for long. Official briefings by security forces, including the police, the naval command, the Army and the NSG were not enough to fill the 24x7 coverage, which the viewing public was clamoring for. Did the competitive zeal of journalists, their rivalry for breaking news and the pressure from viewers hungry for information, provide the terrorists with more information than they would have otherwise had? Sadly, we must also consider the tone and tenor of the reportage, especially when we hit day two and three of the siege. As a filmmaker, I know a bit about using words, visuals and sounds to draw emotions in audiences, but then, I work in the realm of fiction. In the last few days, we have witnessed audio-visual tools used in fiction, being applied to news reports. One television promo was set to a powerful soundtrack of well-edited gun shots, rising to a beautiful crescendo, leaving the viewer quivering in his chair. Anchors and editors lost their voices and composure repeatedly, leaving the audience disconcerted. Our channels repeatedly showed the same images, as if they were happening over and over again, without the required caption stating “Repeat Telecast.” The effect: passions were fanned and fear was stoked.As hapless survivors were led out of hotels, journalists thrust their mikes and bodies in their way demanding exclusive interviews. A woman crying for her missing husband became the focus for an entire hour on our TV channels- her personal grief turned into national drama. A gentleman searching for his wife (who was later reported dead) was asked, “What are you telling your children?” at which point he broke down; instead of letting him go, he was repeatedly asked by the journalist “Have we upset you? We think we have upset you. We must have upset you. We don’t want to upset you.” In the journalists’ defense, they were working in extreme situations for 30-40 hours without a break. Can you blame them for losing their composure and falling victim to melodrama on national TV? The entire media machinery, each producer, reporter, editor, assistant and office boy who is a part of that machinery, has worked very hard during the last few days and for this they deserve our admiration. But these individuals and organizations also deserve better guidance that puts their talent and hard work to best use. They deserve a clearer leadership from their owners and managing editors who should urge them to follow a code-of-conduct that is beneficial to society, especially when calamity strikes. Will the owners and managing editors stand up at this time in Indian history and take responsibility for their hasty reporting of the Bombay tragedy? Can they rise above the TRP race and together create a Common Code of Media Conduct Manual for the future? A few guiding points for such a manual can be: Don’t upset the viewer, inform them. Don’t tell them what to feel, give them facts. Fan their minds, not their hearts. Don’t manipulate. Don’t dabble in emotions- leave that to the fiction departments. Don’t use images, words and music to terrorise. DON’T SPREAD TEARS AND DON’T SPREAD FEAR. The terrorists have done enough, the media must not carry on their work. Media’s terrorism must stop now.
The following was written by Sona Jain.....picked it up from a facebook post
India watched in horror as images on our TV screens showed NSG commandos being dropped from a helicopter onto the rooftop of Nariman House on Friday morning. We counted the number of commandos, could see their landing spot and the doors behind which they disappeared. So perhaps could the terrorist masterminds directing their operatives inside Nariman House through satellite phones. At Nariman House, we lost five innocents and one commando. The terrorist masterminds had a clear mission- to create mayhem and spread fear. In their quest for higher ratings, did the Indian media become an unwitting partner in the terrorist masterminds’ quest?There are cases of high-profile persons found murdered inside hotels, whose presence in the hotels had been revealed on television while terrorists still had control of the hotels. In some cases, relatives had been interviewed and these interviews were repeatedly broadcast. Even if the harried relatives did not have the clarity of thought at such a traumatic time to withhold the identity and last known location of their loved one, isn’t there a media code-of-conduct in place that instructs editors of news organizations from muffling such stories till the missing person is out of harm’s way? Is it possible that carrying such information on TV- that is easily accessible to the terrorists- may have put some missing person in jeopardy?What do our NSG jawans think of the media’s minute-by-minute reporting of their strength and movement inside the Taj Hotel while their operation was underway? Did such reporting compromise a single effort or put a single life at risk? We have heard that the authorities asked all media outlets to stop such reporting and desist from showing images of locations where security forces were operating. Sadly no media outlet complied, atleast not for long. Official briefings by security forces, including the police, the naval command, the Army and the NSG were not enough to fill the 24x7 coverage, which the viewing public was clamoring for. Did the competitive zeal of journalists, their rivalry for breaking news and the pressure from viewers hungry for information, provide the terrorists with more information than they would have otherwise had? Sadly, we must also consider the tone and tenor of the reportage, especially when we hit day two and three of the siege. As a filmmaker, I know a bit about using words, visuals and sounds to draw emotions in audiences, but then, I work in the realm of fiction. In the last few days, we have witnessed audio-visual tools used in fiction, being applied to news reports. One television promo was set to a powerful soundtrack of well-edited gun shots, rising to a beautiful crescendo, leaving the viewer quivering in his chair. Anchors and editors lost their voices and composure repeatedly, leaving the audience disconcerted. Our channels repeatedly showed the same images, as if they were happening over and over again, without the required caption stating “Repeat Telecast.” The effect: passions were fanned and fear was stoked.As hapless survivors were led out of hotels, journalists thrust their mikes and bodies in their way demanding exclusive interviews. A woman crying for her missing husband became the focus for an entire hour on our TV channels- her personal grief turned into national drama. A gentleman searching for his wife (who was later reported dead) was asked, “What are you telling your children?” at which point he broke down; instead of letting him go, he was repeatedly asked by the journalist “Have we upset you? We think we have upset you. We must have upset you. We don’t want to upset you.” In the journalists’ defense, they were working in extreme situations for 30-40 hours without a break. Can you blame them for losing their composure and falling victim to melodrama on national TV? The entire media machinery, each producer, reporter, editor, assistant and office boy who is a part of that machinery, has worked very hard during the last few days and for this they deserve our admiration. But these individuals and organizations also deserve better guidance that puts their talent and hard work to best use. They deserve a clearer leadership from their owners and managing editors who should urge them to follow a code-of-conduct that is beneficial to society, especially when calamity strikes. Will the owners and managing editors stand up at this time in Indian history and take responsibility for their hasty reporting of the Bombay tragedy? Can they rise above the TRP race and together create a Common Code of Media Conduct Manual for the future? A few guiding points for such a manual can be: Don’t upset the viewer, inform them. Don’t tell them what to feel, give them facts. Fan their minds, not their hearts. Don’t manipulate. Don’t dabble in emotions- leave that to the fiction departments. Don’t use images, words and music to terrorise. DON’T SPREAD TEARS AND DON’T SPREAD FEAR. The terrorists have done enough, the media must not carry on their work. Media’s terrorism must stop now.
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