Thursday, 8 October 2015

India, the land of endless journeys ……


The United Nations declared the last Sunday of September (27th) to be observed as world tourism day. Being travel bugs ourselves, my husband and I celebrated it by taking yet another trip, this time down nostalgia lane, reminiscing the various journeys we have made across the globe over the years. Although we have been lucky enough to see a bit of the world, India remains our most favoured destination – simply for the diverse attractions it offers.

After all, how many countries can boast of 7,000 year-old cities, 18,000 feet high roads, gigantic peaks and the deep blue seas, both the largest salt desert in the world and the rainiest place on earth, or the art of sex aesthetically carved on stone, all under one sky?  
Apart from its geo and bio diversity, remnants of India’s rich cultural past also lie scattered all over the sub-continent, waiting to be rediscovered by each passing generation.
In short, India is well and truly the land where, the journey never ends…..
Feeling elated over the diversity and richness of India’s tourism potential, I set out to do a ranking of the various destinations we have been to, and the unique experiences we’ve had.  
Here’s the result – our top 14 travel destinations/unique experiences that I want to share with you. Also included are some related places which are still on our aspirations list; these, I’ve marked out in boxes.  
 A few disclaimers before we proceed…
Indian tourists have now moved beyond the golden triangle (Delhi-Agra-Jaipur), Rajasthan, Goa and Kerala. So, my list excludes these beaten tracks. It also excludes sports/adventure hotspots for trekking, para gliding, river rafting, etc., which call for an independent ranking of their own. Nor does it include wildlife destinations, as spotting wildlife can be tricky with no assurances of sightings. The list also leaves out places like Rameshwaram, Varanasi, Velankanni, etc., which are no doubt exotic travel destinations, but pilgrimage centres first.
 Secondly, although I’ve ranked our favourite destinations and experiences here,  in reality, each of these attractions is really special, unique and hence incomparable.
Thirdly, this compilation is not a travel guide and is not designed to help you with your travel planning. The basic idea is to create interest for these places and urge you to explore these destinations for yourselves.
 Finally, please note that this is only a personal compilation, and is based on the destinations we’ve been to. Needless to say, there’s a lot more to India than these places. I would be thrilled if you shared your unique experiences and pics online or offline, and I’ll be happy to add those destinations to my list of must-do travels.
So, ladies and gentlemen, pack your bags to get set go…….

Life’s a beach

 #14) Chandipur-on-sea, Odisha (natural phenomenon): Chandipur is a small town on the coast of the Bay of Bengal in the state of Odisha. The uniqueness of its beach is that water recedes up to 4 kms into the sea during low tide revealing the sea bed. You can take a long walk into the sea before the tide turns. Believe me, it is a surreal experience, one not to be missed. And, if you can make the trip closer to, or on a full moon night, then you’re guaranteed to take home memories of an unforgettable night.


 Take the walk of your life......

Narara marine national park off the coast of Jamnagar, Gujarat apparently offers a similar experience, where one can walk on the sea bed during low tide and take a peek at a wide variety of marine life that lives there.  

Is it a ship, is it a boat, no…it’s a fort

# 13) Murud-Janjira Fort complex, Maharashtra (man-made wonder)
 A personal favourite of mine, the Janjira fort rises majestically in the Arabian sea off the coast of Murud, a village in Raigad district of Maharashtra. Sitting right there in Shivaji’s realm, the Janjira remained unconquerable by the Marathas, the British and the Portugese through its 500-year long history.
With an African connection, this sea fort is existing proof of our subcontinent’s complex ethnic and cultural history. Hooked?


Go check this must-see destination and give it the attention it deserves.

Travel advisory: 1) For Mumbaikars, it’s highly doable as it’s only a stone’s throw away from Alibagh. 2) The ferry service that can take you to the fort from the coast may not be operational in the monsoons. And summers can be smelteringly hot. That leaves the winter months, which would be ideal to do this destination.

Fort trotters, check this link to know about other sea forts in Maharashtra. http://www.walkthroughindia.com/walkthroughs/top-5-amazing-sea-forts-in-maharashtra/

Oh, what might’ve been!

 #12) Bibi-ka-Maqbara, Maharashtra (man’s faux-pas?!)
Imitation is not always the best form of flattery, especially when it’s a poor copy of the original. Bibi-ka-Maqbara was built by Azam Shah, Aurangazeb’s son, in memory of his mother, in what proved to be an unsuccessful attempt to copy the Taj Mahal.
Although the chief architect of this monument was the son of the principal designer of the Taj Mahal, severe budgetary constraints imposed by Aurangazeb played havoc with the aesthetics and proportions of the monument.


Go, check what might have been! Catch the next train to Aurangabad!

Experience nothingness (No, I’m not talking of vipassana here ;))

 #11) Little Rann of Kutch, Gujarat (geological freak)
 Imagine a place, with nothing around you for miles, nothing….no vegetation, no animals and definitely no humans.
 An unlikely prospect in the second most populous country in the world?
Well, the happy news is that such a place does exist, and it is called the Rann of Kutch (RoK).
A geological shift that cut off a connection to the Arabian sea, and a change in the course of the Ghaggar river created miles and miles of salty marshland that form the RoK, counted among the most inhospitable terrains of the world. Small wonder then that you don’t find much life here, save for the tenacious wild ass and the occasional wild swine.



Btw, sunset here is quietly beautiful and if you go during the winter months, you might have the migratory flamingos for company.
 Go if you are a solitude seeker and want to dwell upon the meaning of life. Go, even if you aren’t. 
If you want to experience desolation of a different kind, head for Dhanushkodi in Rameshwaram, Tamil Nadu, a sort of India’s Hiroshima. Unlike the Japanese city though, Dhanushkodi was a victim of nature’s fury, when a terrible cyclonic storm in 1964 washed away the entire town and its people. What remains is a ghost-town, a tragic reminder of man’s vulnerability to nature’s whims.

Aamchi Scottish Highlands

#10) Sahyadris in the monsoons, Maharashtra (scenic beauty)
‘Of rolling hills and wooded vales….’ is how a poet describes the Scottish Highlands. Wanna share his experience? The good news is that you don’t need a UK visa to do that. Just hop on to the next flight to Mumbai and hit the Mumbai-Pune highway or the Mumbai-Nashik highway in the monsoons.
The moss on the dusty hills that go all dry and brown in summer suddenly come to life in the monsoons and weave a magic carpet so stunningly beautiful that you’ve got to see to believe.

Overnight, small meandering streams and tiny gushing waterfalls erupt, and dry grasslands metamorphosise into lush green meadows, adding a finishing touch to the dramatic makeover of the Sahyadris.


Come, experience this wet green paradise and be charmed!


For other scenic routes to experience the Sahyadris in the monsoons, check:  http://mumbaimag.com/monsoon-travel-driving-through-the-sahyadris/


Incidentally, the Indian monsoons are an attraction by themselves. Considered the single largest weather phenomenon in the world, the monsoon winds that originate off the coast of Kerala travel 2,500 kms inland up to Kashmir and bring rainfall to most parts of India for nearly four months in a year.  That’s big!!
  

Sare jahan se achcha…

 # 9) Wagah Border, Punjab (man-made blunder?!):
Yet another ‘what might’ve been’ emotion is sure to strike your heart when you stand at India’s Berlin Wall— the Attari (in Wagah) border check post in Amritsar, Punjab – and peer 100 metres across into the breakaway land, the prodigal nation called Pakistan.
This dramatic border check post, marked by two imposing gates demarcating the territorial boundaries of the two warring nations, is a grim reminder of a people thrown asunder by the misplaced aspirations of their leaders. 



‘So near and yet so far…’, are the words that come to one’s mind as the gates to both the countries are opened for a very short while during the ‘lowering of flags ceremony’, when two soldiers from either country exchange a brief handshake before the gates are sealed once again, shutting out all hopes of a borderless world.
Go to shed a tear or two for the people who lost their land and loved ones so these gates could come up, and to mull over what might have been…..
Travel advisory: Reach the check post in good time so you get a vantage position on the galleries erected to watch the lowering of flags ceremony that takes place in the evenings every day. (Check with the local guides for the correct timings.) A word of warning— it can get extremely crowded here, so be careful with your kids and things. 

Get set for time travel

 #8) Lothal, Gujarat (Harappan ruins)
Just 80 kms off Ahmedabad sits an industrialised urban settlement known for its bustling economy, efficient town planning and best-in-class sanitation, the kind that would put modern Indian cities to shame.
And it is just 5700 years old!
That’s Lothal for you, a Harappan city that has lived to tell the tale of India’s glorious past.
Once a busy commercial centre that traded with the Sumerians (present day Iraq and Kuwait), the highlight of the place is its dockyard, the oldest in the world, that suggests a prosperous economy led by robust maritime trade.  
 As you walk down the paved roads, past the bead making factory, the sacrificial altars, the granaries and toilets built using the famously standardised Harappan bricks, you can’t help but be awed by the civilisation’s antiquity and also its surprising continuity into modern day India.  


 Go, discover the place where it all began…...




Among other larger Harappan sites in India are Dholavira in Gujarat, Kalibangan in Rajasthan and Rakhigarhi in Haryana, which are pushing the antiquity of the civilisation even further. These excavations will hopefully help us decode the Indus valley script! 
   

Poetry in stone

 #7) Sun temples of India (Gujarat & Odisha) (architectural marvel)
India is home to several sun temples, but the most prominent among them is the Konarak temple in Odisha, eastern India. Envisaged on a grand scale and built in the form of the sun's chariot drawn by seven horses, this 13th century temple turned out to an unfortunate casualty of its own vanity.  

Archaeologists believe that the ambitious size of the main vihara caused it to cave in under its own weight.
Although what remains is a mere phantom of its original, it is enough to leave one awe-struck and struggling to imagine the grandeur of the earlier structure. 





While Konarak receives the sun’s first rays on the east coast of India, there is yet another temple in the extreme west of India, which pays obeisance to the Sun God in its own grandiose way. The sun temple at Modhera, off Ahmedabad, which actually predates the Konarak, may not match up to its eastern cousin in size, but is no less in terms of architectural splendour.  Indeed, the intricate carvings on the temple walls and the ornate step well at the entry are fascinating, and can give Konarak a good run for its money.
 Follow the sun to bask in the architectural brilliance of India!

A jewel to hold water

 #6) Step wells of India, Gujarat (engineering marvel)
 In the extremely hot and rain-starved parts of western India, the step wells are a unique phenomenon that combine cutting-edge engineering with architectural aesthetics.  
 What makes these ancient step wells special is that they are very deep and ensure year-around supply of groundwater, made accessible to people through multiple layers of passageways and steps. Besides supplying water, these step wells also doubled up as a leisure retreat for the women who came to draw water in the sizzling heat.  



The artists didn’t stop there. 

They made the mundane task of carrying water an aesthetically enriching experience for the women. The result—stunning panels carved exquisitely on the walls of the wells in mind-blowing detail and perfection.
 Two such ornate step wells can be found in Gujarat – Rani-ki-vav, a world heritage site, and the Adalaj vav, both just a few hours drive from Ahmedabad.
 Step in to quench your thirst at the well, or simply gape at the incredible art around it.....

Incidentally, Kallanai or the Grand Anicut, built across the river Kauveri in Tamil Nadu by a Chola king nearly two millennia back, is considered the world’s oldest water-regulation structure that is still in use. Would love to check this one out! 


Paradise on earth

 #5) Srinagar, Jammu & Kashmir (Joint venture of God and Man)
When Jahangir burst out into poetry, equating Kashmir to paradise on earth, he probably wasn’t just talking about the place. He may well have been thinking about the people here. Blessed with insane good looks and the gift to make infinitely intricate art, the people of Kashmir are proof of God’s kindness (Allah-e-Reham!) to man.
And, when man decides to work alongside God, the result is... the enchanting city of Srinagar. Be it its famous Dal Lake dotted with flower-laden Shikaras and house boats, its beautifully manicured Shalimar gardens, the green canopy of the Chinar trees or the majesty of the snow-capped mountains that meet the eye everywhere you care to look, the bewitching beauty of Srinagar is certain to haunt you for a long, long time. 

Go, live this paradise and pray we don’t lose it yet again to war and violence....
Travel advisory: The city takes on different dimensions in different seasons. So anytime that is not prohibitively cold is a good time to visit it.   

A walk in the clouds through the bridge and the rainbow

 #4) Mawsynrom, the rainiest place on earth and the Living Root bridges, Meghalaya (natural phenomenon, man-made wonder)
 If you are a romantic and have always fancied a walk in the clouds, then your fantasyland is right here in India; in Meghalaya, to be precise. With its unique geography, Meghalaya was destined to be pretty.... and also the wettest.
 The summer air currents that sweep over the floodplains of neighbouring Bangladesh, after gathering moisture from the Bay of Bengal, form dense clouds and hit the hills of Meghalya, bringing torrential rainfall here, through the year.  The village of Mawsynrom holds the record for being the wettest place on earth with a whopping annual average precipitation of 11,860 mm, which is over 10 times the average annual rainfall of UK (counted among the wettest nations of the world).
 The cloud cover is sometimes so dense that sometimes you can’t even see the end of your nose!
 Fascinated? Wait! Meghalya’s awesomeness doesn’t end there.
 It is also home to some of the fantastic pieces of civil engineering ever created by man – the living root bridges. 

Wooden bridges that are necessary to cross the endless streams and rivulets that erupt with the rains, can’t survive the incessant downpour. So, the locals have found a simple and natural solution to it – they simply grow (!) their bridges by guiding the living roots and vines of large old trees across small rivers and streams, thus creating navigable over passes that do not rot but actually strengthen with time.
 If that’s not ingenuity, what is?


 Go, live your childhood fantasies - walk in the clouds, dance in the rain and watch a rainbow from a living bridge in mesmerising Meghalaya!

Land ahoy!

 #3) The Brahmaputra & Majuli, Assam (natural phenomena)
To borrow the catchy Bollywood phrase, there are two types of people in this world -  those who suffer from a lack of water and those who suffer from its surplus. Clearly, the people of Assam in North East India belong in the second category.
 And the cause of their grief and prosperity is the mighty river Brahmaputra – 2,900 kms long (1,800 miles), 10 kms wide in certain places and discharging 680,000 cubic feet of water per second!
For its sheer scale, a boat ride on the mighty Brahmaputra can be a humbling experience for you, when you surrender to the force of nature, accepting its sovereignty over you.
 As your ferry transports you gently across these treacherous waters, you’d be tempted to play the  Rabindra-Sangeet, to synchronise with the gentle, rhythmic movement of the oars, and the ripples they leave behind....
But then, you would be absolutely wrong in reading the river’s emotion!
For, there’s nothing gentle about the Brahmaputra- which notoriously snuffs out hundreds of lives and decimates several livelihoods every year during the monsoons.
In any case, don’t make the mistake of sharing your Bengali fantasy with your Assamese co-passenger, as it could really upset him. For, the Assamese have a vibrant culture independent off the Bengalis and are very proud of it. Otherwise, they are a gentle people who have learnt to navigate the whimsical waters of the river to make a living whenever possible, or simply surrender to it when not......
 Just when you begin to tire of your long ferry ride, you hit a piece of land - Majuli , one of the largest river islands of the world.
 According to folklore, Majuli was originally a narrow piece of land sandwiched between Brahmaputra and one of its tributaries. It then had a violent rebirth in 1750. A major seismic event set off catastrophic floods for 15 days that led the Brahmaputra to tear into two, thus creating the island as we know it today.

Well not exactly!

The island has since lost nearly two-thirds of its lands to erosion caused by floods! And it is shrinking further....
Alas, we are in an endangered zone!


If you can disregard this disturbing fact momentarily, you can enjoy the quaint little emerald isle that is Majuli. Lined with green bamboo trees everywhere you choose to look, the island is also home to the various satras or monasteries associated with the neo-Vaishnavaite culture. 
Go, take a plunge into this remote water world.......

In the lap of divinity

 #2)  Sunrise at Kanchenjunga-Darjeeling, West Bengal & Sunset at Somnath, Gujarat  (celestial phenomena)
 If you are woken up at 3 am on a chilly morning, pulled out of your warm bed and asked to set out into the bitter cold, braving a sub-zero temperature at 8,500 feet altitude, and yet, you comply without a murmur...
 .....you must either be a hostage at gun-point, or you must be going to Tiger Hills, Darjeeling to experience the most spectacular sunrise of your life! It’s the latter, hopefully. :)

When you arrive at Tiger Hills, disregarding the chill weather, you find the world around is still shrouded in darkness. Sunrise is still some time away, and you can spend the minutes either counting the stars in the supremely clear sky or securing your vantage position on the viewing deck as the crowd starts to swell.
 As you keep looking expectantly at the distant dark spot, where you’ve been told rises the gigantic Kanchenjunga, the third highest peak in the world, the sky slowly starts to light up. You wait with bated breath as the light grows brighter. The world around you has fallen silent and you can almost hear the seconds ticking away....
 And then suddenly, it happens! The spell is cast!!
 The rays of the rising sun fall on the twin peaks of the Kanchenjunga making it dazzle like gold, almost blinding you for a second, much like the mountains you see in ‘Mackenna’s Gold’!
 “Surely, this must be nirvana?!” you think.
 The golden effect, however, lasts only a few seconds. As the ark in the sky rises further, different magical hues play out on the snow-capped peaks, and you stay put, rooted to your spot, smitten by the sights for you know not how long.
 Eventually, the spell breaks and the world returns to normalcy, till.... yet another sunrise.


An equally overwhelming experience is the sunset at Somnath temple, Gujarat on the Arabian sea. The thing about Somnath that makes an everyday sunset over the sea a special happening is the temple’s unique geography.
It is a land’s end of sorts.
Believe it or not, there is no discernible landmass between the Somnath temple and the south pole; nothing but 6,150 miles (nearly 10,000 kms) of water till Antarctica! Interesting?
 Sitting at this unique piece of earth, and watching the sun set amidst sounds of the relentless waves rising and falling, the mind replays the fantastic stories learnt in school - of the temple’s riches and of Mahmud of Ghazni’s attacks and plunder- and you wonder.... surely, this an experience that belongs in the bucket list of things-to-do-before-you die!
Travel advisory: The sunrise at Kanchenjunga can be tricky and depends entirely on the weather of the day. On most days, dense cloud cover over the peaks can ruin the chances of a good show. However, the skies are relatively cloudless in the months from mid-October to December and in March and April. So plan your trip accordingly.
 Experience the dazzling sunrise and the magical sunset to know eternal bliss!





 Some breath-taking moonlight experiences: Still awaiting an opportunity to savour the surreal white landscape of the Great Rann of Kutch, Gujarat, the largest salt desert in the world on a full moon night, and watch the marble rocks lined along the river Narmada at Bhedaghat, Madhya Pradesh glisten in the moon light....
    

Oh, how blue is my sky!



#1) Ladakh, Jammu & Kashmir (scenic beauty & endurance game)
What would you call a land that receives little or no rains, is barren, frozen and starved of oxygen through most parts of the year – hostile territory?
Then, that is what Ladakh is.
Ironically, while being all the above, Ladakh is also so heart-wrenchingly beautiful that, like the brave prince Sindbad, you don’t mind taking these challenges head-on to soak in its ethereal beauty.
Located on the ancient silk route, Ladakh, the land of high passes, is a cold desert on the Himalayas with a terrain so forbidding that you could well be on planet Pluto.  
But, then, that’s the key charm in travelling to Ladakh - challenging human limits......
And, there is more.....
For one, it’s a photographer’s dream! The pollution-free air that gives the clear blue skies, the panoramic view of snow-capped mountains and their reflection in the lucid water bodies below make for great photo ops.


Then, it’s a biker’s delight! Ladakh stakes claim to the highest motorable road on earth at 18,380 feet on the Khardungla pass. A drive up this road is sure to give you a high, literally!
Plus, the Ladakhis make excellent hosts. Allow them to indulge you! Not in a flamboyant Punjabi kind of way, but in a warm, unpretentious, family kind of way.

But, Ladakh is more than just dizzying heights, endless snow, sparkling blue skies and crystal clear lakes. It stands for the indomitable spirit of man to live, love and serve in a hostile habitat.
There is an old Ladakhi saying that captures the essence of this place, “The land is so barren and our passes so high that only our fiercest enemies or our best friends would want to visit us.”
Go visit this land and its people as friends, and they are sure to win you over. That’s a promise!
Two things here that you will not fail to notice:
First, the ubiquitous army presence. But, unlike in the Kashmir valley, it is not intimidating. On the contrary, it is very comforting as life in Ladakh would be impossible today without the infrastructure created by the Indian army.
Second, the interesting sign boards put up by Border Roads Organisation.  Some samples here:  http://ladakhroadsigns.com/index.php?option=com_easygallery&Itemid=28


Go for yourself and for the Ladakhis who need you, and also for the army men who you need..... 
Travel advisory: 1) Ladakh’s terrifying altitude needs time to get used to. If you fly down to Leh, the sudden descent into an oxygen-starved terrain can cause acute altitude-sickness. So plan your stay accordingly, leaving enough time for acclimatisation (1-3 days). On the other hand, if you took the Manali-Srinagar-Leh highway, you would gain altitude gradually. In which case, the sickness may not be so acute.
 2) Owing to its tricky terrain, travel in Ladakh can be challenging. The hills are also highly prone to avalanches. So, ensure you hire a good driver to take you around. And carry a full oxygen can with you at all times. While we were there, we got stuck at 15,000 feet in a road block caused by an avalanche, which took five hours to clear. Having exhausted the little oxygen that was left in an old used can, we were dangerously dizzy and breathless by the time we reached the hotel. So, don’t hesitate to invest in a new oxygen can!
Most medical shops there sell canned oxygen and are happy to take them back if they remain unused.  
3) Ladakh can be stressful for children and elders and people with travel sickness. Roads are windy and weather-damaged in certain pockets, despite BRO’s best efforts to maintain them. So, the drive can be really, really bumpy at times!

Friday, 14 August 2015

Piku, Parenting and The Elusive Art of letting go...

Parenthood is about guiding the next generation while forgiving the last....Peter Krause

(This blog is the second in my series on men and mortality, the first one being A Matter of Life and Death)

After watching the critically acclaimed Shoojit Sircar’s ‘Piku’ on DVD last week, (I had missed it when it released in the theatres), I was seriously struck with wonder why it had taken someone this long to take up and discuss a common household theme such as this.

For those who haven’t seen the film, here’s an intro. ‘Piku’ is about the antics of an obstinate, fussy  septuagenarian ‘babu moshai’ called Bhask’o’r Bannerjee  (Amitabh Bachchan), his persistent potty problems and the generally hard time he gives his unmarried daughter Piku (Deepika Padukone), with whom he lives. 

Although the movie is titled Piku, it’s really about her irrepressible father, who shamelessly talks about his bowel movement at the dining table, discusses the colour and consistency of his potty over phone with his daughter when she is on a date, and even resorts to childish antics like sneaking the salt container from the kitchen (for health reasons). To top it all, he is obnoxious enough to snitch about his daughter’s sexual independence to a prospective groom!

In short, Bhaskor Bannerjee is nothing like you’ve ever seen on screen but everything like your grandfather, grandmother, father, father-in-law, mother-in-law or an ageing uncle probably is.

What is refreshing about the movie is that it boldly deviates from the stereo-type of selfless and sacrificing parents, willing to die at the altar of parenthood, that we Indians are so obsessed with. Not so, with our Bhaskor with the ‘o’. He is everything that our beloved screen father ‘Alok Nath’ is not.  On the contrary, Bhaskor is an obstinate, insecure hypochondriac, who wishes to live his life on his own terms, undeterred by the fact that his terms may be totally unacceptable to his near and dear.

Shoojit deserves nothing short of a standing ovation for his brilliant characterisation of Bhaskor, played to the hilt by Amitabh. Encore, Mr. Bachchan!

Now, for the subtext of the movie.  If you cared to dig deeper, below the facade of toilet humour, the movie raises some serious and socially relevant questions:

·         Are parents right in demanding support from their children in their old age?

·         Is it fair to expect children to subjugate their interests to their parents’?

                        And more importantly

·         Does old age have to be disgraceful?

In the movie, Bhaskor tells Piku, “I’ve taken care of you when you were a child, I expect the same from you now (in my old age).” On this premise, he assumes the licence to invade his daughter’s privacy, trouble her at her workplace or make unreasonable demands from her, in total disregard of her needs and feelings.

This kind of quid pro quo that parents expect from their children is one of the reasons why many families in our society are entangled in unhappy relationships.

The root to the problem lies in the fact that we Indians are in the habit of deifying and romanticising everything. Right from childhood, we’re fed on stories about the ever obedient Ram and the story of Shravana Kumar who dedicated his life to care for his aged blind parents. 

Check this article by Devdutt Patnaik on the ‘Yayati’ complex that Indian men suffer from http://devdutt.com/articles/myth-theory/from-oedipus-to-yayati.html.  

But, the reality is that parenting is something that all living beings on this planet do. It is not an exclusive obligation of humans.

Watch the first two and last two minutes (1:58 to 3:20 minutes and 48:51 to 51:01 minutes) of this BBC video to appreciate how the Emperor Penguins brave a harsh Antarctic winter to ensure the safe arrival of their progeny into this world.

Stripped off social trappings, the relationship between a parent and child is the most real one in our natural world. To ruin the beautiful relationship with ugly and unreal expectations on both sides is such a shame. 

Like somebody said, expectations are premeditated resentments. Expectations kill personal freedom, strangle individuality, hold people’s emotions to ransom and ruin relationships. 

This is a serious issue in today’s age of hyper parenting, where we want to control the lives of our children right from the moment they are born. We expect our children to conform to our idea of them. While I won’t say parents can’t have any expectations from their offspring, their expectations should be realistic and not tantamount to exacting a pound of flesh.

Agreed, parenting is serious business and parents are utterly responsible for their children. But that is only till their children reach an age when they can manage their own lives. But once they become independent (physically, mentally and economically), parenting is really about letting them go.

In one of his talks, Sadguru Jaggi Vasudev (of Isha Foundation) warns against parents claiming ownership over their children; parents, he says, should remember that they are not the creators of their children (life) but only the facilitators of their passage into this world.

Does all this mean that we dump our ageing parents or expect similar treatment from our children? No!  Only an unwanted piece of luggage is jettisoned. It is up to the parents to ensure that they don’t become or act like one.

This calls for some advance mental preparation. To start with, accepting the fact that ageing is inevitable and resisting it is pointless, helps. Next, parents should learn to respect the boundaries of their children’s lives and make way for the next generation to bloom. In other words, they should conduct themselves in such a way that their acts and thoughts are not self-centred but forward looking.

At the risk of sounding scandalous, in this context, I would even say retirement or senior citizen homes are not a bad idea for those who can afford one. These homes allow older people to live a life of dignity and distance themselves from the various inter-generational conflicts that would arise if they chose to live in an extended family. In short, these homes can well substitute for ‘vanaprastham’.

Hear Jaggi Vasudev's take on old age homes. (Tamil)

Coming back to Piku, apart from his dominating nature, the other major problem that Bhaskor suffers from is his refusal to let go off his worldly possessions. While he lives with his daughter in Delhi, he owns an old house in Kolkata that he won’t allow to be sold. But, this family heirloom has no place in Piku's life, and she finds the house a big nuisance. This is a classic problem faced by many families. The elders in the family want to leave behind a legacy in their remembrance after their death. But this legacy can often end up as a liability for the next generation.  

Here, I think we should take a leaf out of Gandhi’s life. He had reportedly mandated that after his death, all his works (and hence thoughts) be burned down along with him on his funeral pyre. With this kind of moral power of let go, it is small wonder why he was hailed as a Mahatma!

Final thoughts... We live only one life.  Let’s live it well. But, when our time is up, let’s accept it, wipe our slate clean and exit gracefully, leaving the next generation to live their life as they want to.

I’d like to end with Osho’s words on ‘The way of the Zen’ - "The bird flying across the sky leaves no footprints. This is called ‘the way of the birds’ – simply disappearing into the nothingness of the sky, without leaving a trace behind.“

Amen!

Wednesday, 8 July 2015

Love, Sex aur Dhokha


Finally finished reading Madhorubaagan by Perumal Murugan (‘One Part Woman’ in English). Yes, the Tamil book for which Perumal suffered a stinging smear campaign that hit the national headlines.  It set the nation’s conscience on fire and its self-ordained conscience keeper(s) ‘wanted to know’ if the freedom of speech and expression that the Indian Constitution granted its every citizen remained an unfulfilled dream.

An avoidable and unfortunate episode that Perumal agonisingly admitted, ‘killed the writer in him’! 

(Here's an article in the Caravan magazine that gives a good review of book and the controversy surrounding it.)

Four years after its publication in Tamil and an English translation later, a caste-based group in Namakkal (a small town in south Tamil Nadu) suddenly woke up to the contents of the book and accused the author of hurting the sentiments of their community. The group threatened him to withdraw his work from the public domain and burned copies of his book in public.
So, why was Perumal’s work catapulted into a cauldron of controversy?

Based on his research of oral traditions, the author states that a century back, there was a practice in the areas around Thiruchengodu (a temple town in Namakkal district) whereby a woman, on failing to mother a child through her husband, could bear a child through consensual sex with another man, a stranger, on the 14th day of the car festival of the local temple. A child born through such an union would be accepted by the woman’s husband and his family as a child of the God.

Set in the cultural milieu of the early twentieth century, Madhorubagan is the story of one such loving ,but childless couple, Kali (husband) and Ponna (wife).  Twelve years into marriage and stung by the repeated taunts and cruel words of the other villagers on her inability to bear an offspring, Ponna decides to take the last resort to give Kali a child.  

It was this concept of consensual sex or niyoga that was at the crux of the controversy, with the protestors claiming that it showed women in bad light and was trying to ‘basxxxxise’ their community.

But is it really as blasphemous as it is made out to be?

In defence of Ponna and Perumal

Niyoga is not new to our society.   
It is common knowledge that it finds mention in the Mahabharatha. Some of the key characters in the epic – Karna, his brothers, the Pandavas, their father Pandu, and his brother Dhridharashtra – were conceived in this manner.

(In fact, the Mahabharatha is replete with examples of extraordinary births including those of Drona – who was conceived in a pot from Sage Bharadvaja’s semen , Kripa & Kripi – who were born among river reeds as a result of joyous ejaculation by Muni Sharadwan, Jarasandha – the evil king who was born in two halves to two mothers, the Kauravas- who were cut out from a lump of dead flesh their mother Gandhari delivered, and Dhristadyumna and Draupadi, who emerged from the sacrificial fire.)

Now, we could either choose to accuse Sage Veda Vyasa (or Perumal Murugan as in this case) of being a pervert, or we could celebrate him for his unparalleled imagination and his empathetic approach to human frailties. So, what is our pick? 

I think the answer lies in understanding the importance fertility and child-bearing have been given in our traditionally agrarian society.

Right from the days of the Indus Valley (or Indo Sarasvathi) Civilisation, Indians have expressed their awe of the life giving capacity of a woman. (Seals that depict a tree growing out of a woman’s womb have been unearthed in these sites.) Celebration of a woman’s fertility has thus remained an integral part of our culture through the ages. Even today, in most parts of India, puberty is a much-awaited milestone in a girl’s life and an occasion for grand celebrations among families.

Our fascination with procreation doesn’t stop there. Marriage ceremonies in this country are replete with fertility rituals and symbols. A simple thing as the ‘sindoor’ that the husband applies to his wife’s forehead, is one such explicit symbol, the colour red denoting fertility.   <Reference: Fertility rituals in Hinduism>.    

According to ancient Indian astrology, ‘bahuputra yogam’ or the fortune to bear many children was a key desirable in a woman. Conversely, inability to bear more children is also one of the reasons why a widow’s status is low in the socio-cultural hierarchy.

It turns out that ours is the only culture other than ancient Greece, where Gods are associated with sexuality, and also bear progeny. Lingam signifying the male creative power is manifested in the form of Shiva and the Yoni representing the female creative power is manifested as Shakthi in the Hindu pantheon.  In the Kamakhya temple in Guwahati, Assam, the Goddess appears in the form of Yoni, the female genital through which all living beings enter this world. In what is celebrated as ambubachi mela, this temple actually shuts down for three days in a year, when the Goddess is believed to be menstruating and needs her privacy.  

Even the presiding deity of Thiruchengode temple, after whom Perumal’s book is titled (Ardhanarishwara translates into Madhorubagan in Tamil), is a composite androgynous form of Shiva and Shakthi, a symbol of the sacred union exalted as the root of all creation.

Moreover, unlike many other cultures, which dictate celibacy for Godmen, ours actively propagated marriage and procreation, even among the men of God. The story goes that the eminent sage Agastya once found some men hanging upside down from a cliff on a high mountain. When he questioned them on their pitiable condition, the sages replied that they were actually his ancestors and were confined to this terrible fate because he, Agastya, had not embraced Grihasthashrama, the life of a householder. The sages requested Agastya to marry and beget sons, which was the only way the reverend sage could fulfil his duties towards them.

Child-bearing has thus been considered an essential duty to be rendered by every member of our society.
And one compelling reason for the significance attached to progeny and perpetuity in our society lies in our economy, and how it has evolved over the ages.

Farming and trading, the twin arms of our economy, have evolved as dynastic enterprises, which thrive on familial perpetuity. In an agrarian society, land ownership passes from father to son.   World over, societies have experimented with practices of polyandry (one woman in a relationship with many men) and polygamy (one man having a relationship with many women) with the intention of preserving dynastic succession.  Polyandry is still reportedly prevalent among some tribals (Todars of Ooty) in India, in parts of Nepal and even in some areas in India that border Nepal.

In my opinion, cognizance of this social milieu alone can help us appreciate Ponna’s predicament in the story and the solution her society offered her. To his credit, the author shows enormous sensitivity in portraying the grief of the protagonists and what inability to produce a progeny would have meant in an agrarian set-up.  

The protestors apparently wanted to hear none of this and confined themselves to questioning the wisdom in unearthing what they thought were defunct practices. They couldn’t have been more inaccurate!

Niyoga hasn’t disappeared from our society at all. It has only taken a new avatar - that of donor insemination. 

So, in all fairness, if the protestors found this method of conception objectionable, then they should well be staging dharnas outside all those fertility clinics in Namakkal that provide this treatment. (BTW, do these purists know that India is the largest destination for surrogate tourism in the world?)
In any case, the protests have only served to popularise the book. (I, for one, wouldn’t have read it otherwise.) The controversy has actually helped unearth a hidden gem in Perumal Murugan.   

The verdict

It’s a ‘Must Read’, a fine work on a socially relevant topic. Those who can’t relish it in its native language, go for its English translation (One Part Woman). It is available with all online retailers.

(The author has also brought out two sequels to this book; waiting to read them as well.)

BTW, wondering what, in heaven’s name, this blog has to do with its title, borrowed from Dibakar Bannerjee’s 2010 Bollywood flick? Well, I think these four words aptly capture Kali’s range of emotions in this book :)

Friday, 12 June 2015

A matter of life and death


In the end, the things that matter most are:
How well did you live? How well did you love? And how well did you let go? - Buddha

Aruna Shanbaug’s traumatic life (if you can indeed call it life!) and end last month sparked off something that I’d been wanting to write about for some time. No, not euthanasia; it is how I think, we as a society, should be viewing ageing and mortality.

Today, there are innumerable self-help books, online counsellors and brick-and-mortar gurus who help us counter the complex conundrums posed by a fast evolving city life. On the contrary, there is very limited thought or literature on the subject of our mortality— on how we should prepare for our eventual exit from this world. How many of these guides & gurus will also tell you to accept the inevitable and be at peace with it.

I’m sure we all want to live long and healthy lives, and I wish so too for everybody........... but, let’s face it, like all organic matter, human body too is susceptible to ageing and degeneration;  and death is a certainty, like nothing else in this world!

It is ironical that, we humans have big, big trouble accepting it!

Take the case of Aruna Shanbaug. A victim of brutal sexual violence, Aruna spent the last 42 years confined to a bed in Mumbai’s KEM hospital in a persistent vegetative state.  In a superhuman gesture, the nurses of KEM took care of her lovingly for forty long years, refusing to allow the hospital to evacuate Aruna.

Much as I respect the nurses’ noble service to Aruna, I wonder if Aruna would have really chosen to live such a life if she had been cognizant of her condition and had been able to communicate with her caretakers. I asked myself if I were Aruna, would I have chosen to prolong my traumatic existence for four-decades, bed ridden, completely dependent on others even for maintaining my personal hygiene. The answer is a big NO! I think, I would have opted to pass on peacefully rather than live a life of indignity!

Unfortunately, in Aruna’s case, while the Supreme court judgement allowing passive euthanasia (we have activist Pinki Virani to thank for this landmark judgement) could have facilitated withdrawal of her life support systems and nasal feed in 2011, the nurses tending to Aruna refused to let her go. With the result that Aruna suffered for another 4 years before her blessed end came finally in May, 2015.

A classic example of misplaced human emotions in my opinion, where Aruna’s nurses put their love for her and obligation towards her before her best interests!

Incidentally, the apex court allowed the Dean of KEM Hospital to have the final say on Aruna’s case, and the dean decided that it was in Aruna’s “best interests” to be fed and cared for on a daily basis, till nature took its course.  

Here’s another case closer home. One of my aunts (father’s cousin) aged 75, passed away recently. She was diagnosed with kidney malfunction some 3 years back, when she was 72 years old. For three long years, her average middle class family spent lakhs of rupees on her treatment. Towards her last days, the family, with its limited financial resources, was spending something like Rs. 3000 per day for keeping her in the ICU, expenses it could ill afford. Her son and daughters, who had families and commitments of their own, had used up every possible source of funding till they were eventually pushed to selling their only ancestral home for her treatment. But my aunt’s aged body, already sagging under various other medical complications, didn’t respond to the intensive treatment and she passed away, leaving behind her children in a financial mess.

I’m not blaming my aunt, poor soul! She had no say in any of the critical decisions made relating to her treatment.  Indeed, a strange thing about the modern medical system is that patients are often kept out of the decision making process regarding their treatment, even when such treatment is prolonged and traumatic at times (as with cancer).  

My aunt’s case is not unique. Many of us have been on the hot seat, sometime or the other, to make critical decisions on matters of life or death for our loved ones. These decisions are never easy. With modern medicine promising near immortality, thanks to extensive life-support systems, families are thrown into a dilemma over their duties to their dying kin. If they are unable to afford an expensive treatment for the patient, they fall victim to a sense of guilt that the system -- including doctors, friends and other kith and kin --perpetuates. 

It is okay for all of us to want to give our ageing parents, spouses or grandparents the best we can; but, we should also remember that making them undergo prolonged treatment and keeping them alive at a heavy price – be it the affordability of the treatment, or its effectiveness, or denying precious medical infrastructure to a more deserving, younger candidate with greater chances of survival – may not always be the best thing for them. And, remember, we are only postponing the inevitable not eliminating it.

While doctors with their knowledge can show us how to keep people alive, forever, it is up to the family to choose wisely. Sometimes, the greatest thing we can do for our ageing/dying kin is to simply let them go...

It is sad that faced with lopsided priorities set by the society, families often choose to invest in their irreparable past at the expense of their future!    

A word of clarification here– I am not saying that people suffering from serious ailments should not be treated. On the contrary, we should leave no stone unturned to save a human life, provided the patient’s age is favourable and his/her medical condition is such that there is reasonable certainty of the person returning to a normal life. Else, our efforts in challenging man’s mortality would only help prolong the patient’s suffering.

Our ancestors had a more sensible view of life and its end. They had divided their lives into four stages, based on their age, with the stage that a man/women steps into in his/her sunset years being ‘Vanaprastham’ – literally meaning , ‘entry into the forest’.  This was the stage when they let go of their material desires and possessions and set out on a spiritual quest.  Much like birds that die of old age, they too sought to move out of their society to a secluded area, and prepared themselves to embrace their end.

In Tamil Nadu, when a person who has lived a long and fruitful life passes away, it is called “kalyana saavu”, meaning auspicious death. It is considered a welcome event and the deceased person’s soul is given a happy farewell to the nether world in a celebration of music, dance and flowers.

Of course, today’s society is infinitely more complex, and the concept of Vanaprastham or Ubasute (a similar practice supposedly prevalent in ancient Japan) is not an option any more, and would bring Forest authorities and Human Rights activists knocking at our doors.  

But, there is hope for a maturing society. And that hope is called ‘living will’.

A living will is a legal document that expresses a person’s wishes regarding life-prolonging medical treatments.  Several countries allow a competent adult to execute an advance directive as to whether he or she should or should not be given medical treatment when he or she is terminally ill and not in a position to take a medical decision.           

In India, living will is yet to receive legal sanctity. But, in July 2014, the NGO Common Cause, led by Prashant Bhushan, had submitted to the court demanding the right to execute a living will for those with chronic terminal diseases, stating their intent to refuse treatment and die.   

I find this idea very appealing; at one stroke, it allows us greater control over our lives and ensures that we don’t become a burden to our society.  But, till the concept of a living will becomes a reality, dignity in death will remain as transient as life is....

“Jisei – Japanese death poetry”

Farewell!

I pass, as all things do,

As dew on the grass.......

 

Friday, 8 May 2015

Two movies and an idea

Last fortnight was one of those rare times, when I got to watch two recently released Tamil movies back-to-back – Maniratnam’s ‘OK Kanmani’ (OKK) and Cheran’s ‘JK ennum nanbanin vazhkai’ (The life of a friend named JK) (JK) – both, much hyped films for different reasons.
 
OKK was being pitched as a comeback film for Maniratnam who had been bogged down by two successive failures in Kadal and Ravan(an). Not very long ago, he had been written off as a moviemaker who had lost his touch. OKK, it seems has given him another lifeline. Marking his return to the romantic genre of films that he is adept at making, OKK has been declared a commercial success in India and the overseas markets.
 

But, in my opinion, OKK has nothing new to say. It is nothing more than a contemporary retelling of Mani’s Alaipayuthe (Saathiya in Hindi), released in 1999, minus its gloss (Remember how colourful the visualisation of the songs in Alaipayuthe were?). Like Yeh Jawani Hai Diwani, OKK upholds (long-term) commitment in a man-woman relationship. What is disappointing is that fifteen years hence, Mani has not been able to add any new dimension to the idea. And to think, I opted for this move over ‘Margherita with a straw’ is a classic case of good judgement clouded by linguistic sentiments!!
On the other hand, JK is an interesting experiment in the way cinema is consumed by the public. It is the first Indian movie to be directly released through DVDs and the first Tamil movie to be released directly over the Internet (Bollywood film, Striker was the first Indian movie to be released on YouTube simultaneously with its theatrical release), boldly bypassing the traditional channel, the cinema screens/theatres.  


JK, no doubt, marks an important milestone in Indian cinema. And the man of the moment is the film maker Cheran (of Autograph fame), ‘cinema to home’ being his brainchild. His company, ‘c2h’ produced the movie and also undertook the distribution of the movie DVDs across the state through a team of 4,000 handpicked dealers and 150 plus distributors.
This initiative hopes to battle two villains of Tamil cinema – theatre non-availability and video piracy– simultaneously.
Theatre availability is a real issue facing the Kollywood industry.
Take a look at the simple mathematics behind the problem. In 2004, 59 Tamil films were released, i.e., a little over one movie per week; a decade later, in 2014, this number had increased four-fold to 202, which is over four new movies per week. But the number of theatres screening the movies has not kept pace with the releases. Not only have the number of screens across the state not kept pace with single-screen theatres, their number has actually come down. According to the Tamil Nadu Theatre Owners Association of India, the number of cinema screens in the state has halved to 1,260 in 2013 from nearly 2,600 earlier. Since 2013, this number could only have gone down further.  This has meant that several small-budget movies, with no big star-cast,  either don’t get a theatrical release or don’t get adequate run time in the theatres; most movies get to have a theatre run for only about a week, even if they are doing well, as they have to make way for other forthcoming films.
It is no wonder that small-budget movie makers are compelled to bypass this conventional channel. But, it has not been an easy decision for the industry; antagonising the theatre owners, who are in charge of the last mile distribution to the public, can be a big risk to take.
To give a loose analogy, imagine a small FMCG company making ‘Agarbattis’ deciding not to sell their wares through any large retailer, instead opting to sell them directly (door-to-door marketing) or through online channels, and that too at an aggressive price.
Remember, the stakes are much higher in cinema!
JK DVD has been priced at Rs. 50, bringing down the viewing cost per head for a family of four to a mere Rs. 12.50. Compare this with an average ticket price of Rs.30 per person (average of ticket prices in rural, semi-urban and urban centres) for seeing it in the theatres; total revenues from a family of four work out to Rs. 120 – ten times the revenue earned from vending the movie through DVDs.
But, Cheran firmly believes in the commercial potential of his venture. Last heard, the movie has sold 18 lakh discs, raking in a neat Rs 9 crores in DVD sales, which is not bad! The movie is also available at http://c2hnetwork.com/ for streaming at a nominal cost of 3$.  
This idea is not new. Many Hollywood ventures, including several Disney animation movies, have been released direct to video. Japan and Philiipines have also experimented with this model.  Personally, it appeals to me tremendously because, I believe, as an economy, we should not be investing the incredible amounts that we do on mere entertainment. Call it a juvenile idea, or discount it as righteous nonsense, or even argue with me on the multiplier effect of the Indian cinema industry and its unparalleled ability to reach out to the global Indian diaspora. But, I believe no mature society should be pumping in the kind of money it does into films and stars.
C2H, obviously, makes economic sense only films for smaller budgets of 5-6 crores or less. The risk factors as I see them: in an industry, when money often chases goods, market forces will take over this game too. Budgets for these movies will slowly inch up and the marketability of the movies, irrespective of their quality, will increasingly depend on either the cast or the key crew. Also, cultivating the habit of buying original DVDs among the public (who are used to viewing them on pirated discs) and continuing to maintain drawing-room audience quality of the films would be critical for success of this idea.
As for the movie itself, it (JK) tells a heart-warming, feel-good tale of a young man who evolves from being a brash youngster into a highly successful businessman and caring family man. Though a tad preachy, the movie, directed by Cheran himself, marks a good start to a bold and novel venture.
Cheers, Cheran!

 

Thursday, 5 March 2015

The big trouble with retired gentlemen....



Retirement and life thereafter can be quite traumatic for men who have led a busy life, a large part of it outside their homes. The forced confinement to the house that follows retirement does not go down well with most men. Dethroned from their official position, they suddenly find themselves like a king without a kingdom, a clock work without its key. Beleaguered by a sense of insecurity over their finances and disheartened by a lack of purpose in everyday life, these men often drive their families up the wall.
This blog is a humorous take on the antics of those gentry who have called it a day to hit the hay, but are yet to come to terms with their superannuation.  While the issue may be serious, I have tried to find humour in the sticky situations these men precipitate (of which I have abundant experience), and appeal to you all to read it as such.

It’s all about money, Honey!                   


Two things that a retired gentleman has to contend with from day one:

·         Less money to manage his expenditure, and

·         More time, in fact, all the time, to brood over it.

So the first thing that he does, or overdoes in most cases, is to attempt to tighten his purse strings; in doing so, he pulls the strings so hard that they end up as the proverbial noose around the family’s neck.

His repeated scanning of power bills, telephone bills and grocery bills to identify areas where he can cut corners starts as a past time, but quickly degenerates into a fixation.

Soon enough, his wife finds her carefully-balanced family budget being subject to a C&AG-type scrutiny. She is interrogated in detail over a wide spectrum of issues right from:

·         her choice of groceries (why can’t we buy masoor dal instead of toor dal, it’s a lot cheaper!)

·         her wisdom in opting for specific brands of shampoos (why use these chemicals on our
            heads? Won’t shikakai do?)

·         her plea to replace the broken kitchen mixer (can’t you hand grind the masala?)

·         her decision to take a cab to a friend’s wedding (But, bus no: 309 stops just opposite the
            venue!)

·         down to even her basic need to make a phone call (why can’t you simply Whatsapp? It’s
            free!).  

After years of running the household with less finances and lesser help from her husband, she is unlikely to take kindly to this audit. Add to this, his sermons on how she could bring more efficiency into her household management, and she has had it!

What follows is inevitable! Confrontation, followed by cold war!

In the early days of his retired life, when hubby dearest offers to accompany his wife for grocery shopping, she is pleasantly surprised and looks forward to having some quiet time with him. But, alas! Her expectations are to be belied sooner that you can say ‘bazooka’!

Her miseries start at the grocer’s from whom her spouse demands a small discount on MRP (like what the big retailers offer); at the medical shop, he insists on a senior citizen’s rebate; at the restaurant, he tries to negotiate an additional free serving of chutney for his idlies; the milkman, he chastises for rounding off small change to his favour, and the vegetable vendor, he accuses of cheating and demands to inspect his weighing balance.

 Who did these people think he was, Mukesh Ambani? Don’t they know, he no longer gets a raise (pun unintended ;)) these days! Does anybody (in a veiled reference to his family members) know how woefully inadequate his pension? Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...... All the way back home, the poor woman has to hear him rant on how everybody is out to cheat him and how nobody understands the difficulties of a pensioner.

When he is not giving the world around him a hard time, he keeps himself busy planning his next attack on two parties he loves to hate - his banker and the taxman. Visiting the bank becomes his most favourite past time and twice a week, his banker receives a visit from his disgruntled client demanding why certain tax has been deducted, a fixed deposit closed or some faulty debits not yet reversed.  No new-age banking facilities, be it the ATMs, net banking or phone banking, can keep our senior citizen off the bank premises. It is a different story that his every visit to the bank ends on a disappointing note as he had expected his bank balance to grow like Jack's bean stalk but had to eventually reckon with the hard fact that money grows neither on trees nor on bean stalks!

If the banker is a foe with whom he can fight an intimate duel, the elusive taxman remains frustratingly remote and inaccessible, but with tentacles long enough to chop off substantial chunks of his meagre savings before he knows it!

Dressed to kill 


The retirement complex these gentlemen suffer from is best manifested in the way they dress. On this parameter, the retired gentry fall into two categories: 

One, the category of men who dress to make a statement - although his NRI son has gifted him some nice Lacoste t-shirts, our man chooses to wear his old,  tattered, worn out clothes, which have been lying in his wardrobe since prehistoric times . Ask him why he is so dreadfully dressed and he will shoot back that an old retired man like him was free to roam around in his langhoti and nobody in the world would care two hoots!

The gentlemen falling into the second category unleash terror in a different manner – they raid their son’s wardrobe for his jeans and t-shirts in a naive attempt to look young! They dye their hair jet black but are too lazy to shave of their greying facial hair. The resulting effect is cataclysmic!  Top it up with their demands to have their hair (or what is left of it) dressed at a unisex parlour and to hang out at a coffee joint, and the torture is complete!

The idly-vada economic theory


One other defining trait of our distinguished citizen is his favourite discussion topic of ‘idly-vada economics’. As he grows older, he weaves a time warp around himself and finds inordinate pleasure in repeatedly reminiscing the (g)olden years of his life, when a pair of idlies dunked in mouth-watering sambar cost merely an ‘anna’ (a denomination equalling one-sixteenth of a rupee).

His fondness for food frequently drives him to a nearby Udupi restaurant (sometimes on the sly ;)) where he tucks in a plate of idly-vada with gusto. For him, the cost of a single plate of idly-vada is the barometer of the prevailing inflation. It is sort of like the purchasing power parity concept; call it the ‘idly-vada parity index’, if you will. So every purchase in the house is equated to the cost of a plate of idly-vada and judged whether the purchase is rightly priced or over-valued. It works somewhat like this:

A movie ticket at a single-screen theatre for Rs 75 equals 1.5 times the cost of the plate of idly-vada: 

Verdict: Appropriately priced!

 A ticket for the same movie in a multiplex for Rs 300 equals 6 plates of idly-vada :

Verdict: Horribly overpriced!!

'Yaadon ki baarat'....


His pet obsession with idly-vada can still be discounted as a mild quirk, compared with his brash decision to take over the kitchen from the woman of the house, who has been running it for years. 
It begins with frequent flashbacks of his mom’s or grandmom’s recipes, which he coaxes his wife into recreating for him. If his overtures fail, he jumps into the fray to try his own hand at cooking his favourite dishes.  What follows is mayhem!  Suffice to say, at the end of his culinary exploits, the kitchen resembles the Kalinga war field crossed with the Corporation dumpyard!

And let's not even talk about all those sweets, chocolates and other goodies that frequently go missing from the kitchen!  

I am the master of my cubbyhole universe 


Yet another exasperating habit of our gentleman is his total hijack of the morning newspapers (everybody else has to wait till he is done) and his complete monopolisation of the television set (nobody else gets to hold the remote).

Newspaper reading is an early morning ritual, as vital to his existence as the air he breathes.  He reads the papers from end to end, critically analysing each news item and churning out his own theories along the way.  He has more views on how this country should be run than the PMO’s think tank. When he doesn’t find good reception for his ideas among family members, he starts to flood the mailboxes of newspapers with their ‘letters to the editor’.

His unsatiable romance with television is yet another matter of major heart burn for the family. All day long, the family is forced to watch nothing but the news channels and re-runs of B&W movies from the 1950’s and 60’s. Not easy, that one! 


Excuse me! I am a senior citizen!


Despite playing dangerously with the world around, he escapes unscathed by uttering four powerful words  – “I am a senior citizen” – words that pull the pull the air out of the opponent’s lungs, much like Shashi Kapoor’s, “Mere paas maa hain” line in the Hindi movie ‘Deewar’.

All his conversations with the world at large invariably begin with him mentioning his age, as if it were an esteemed title he has earned. But he is also shrewd enough to use this as a trump card to:

·         jump queues (Madam, I am a senior citizen, I can’t stand for too long; can I please go before you)

·         excuse himself from attending functions he is not interested in (Sorry Sir, I am touching 70; of late, my mobility has become very restricted; I won’t be able to make it to the event....)

·         avoid the ignominy of getting frisked at malls and other public places (Young man, I am 72 years old, I already have one foot in the grave, why do you think I would be interested in weapon trafficking at my age?)   and

·         crush tele-callers selling financial products (Boy, I am 68 years old ; still interested in selling me a personal loan?). 

At the end of the day, it is this magic mantra that saves our old man from the unwise and immature world around him!

Sunday, 15 February 2015

Political decency and the Periyar-Rajaji paradox


In India, over the last 10 months,  high-voltage election hungama has hogged the headlines, with several name-callers adding spice to it. It started with the ‘chai-wala’ being pitted against the ‘shehzada’ and the ‘Italian’ against the ‘Gujarati’, and culminated in the ‘crane’ calling the ‘gun’, ‘toxic’ and a ‘liar’. Along the way, there were several more episodes of mud-slinging by our netas, which the Indian public quietly watched from the ring.  

There was once a time when the complete absence of chivalry and decency among our leaders did not upset us. But, not anymore.  In an encouraging sign of an evolving democracy, the recent Delhi election results have proved that the Indian voters do attach a great deal of value to political decency among our leaders.

This blog is an eulogy to two great leaders of a bygone era, who stand out as shining examples of people who believed in playing the ball and not the man.

Ironically, it was a die-hard politician, the ex-CM of Tamil Nadu Mr M. Karunanidhi who once famously declared, “Political decency must be preserved at all costs...”, and cited the example of the friendship between EV Ramaswamy Naicker and C. Rajagopalachari , two giant figures who have played important roles in shaping the socio-political landscape of Tamil Nadu.  It is unfortunate that not many Indians, outside of Tamil Nadu have heard of the former, whereas the social and cultural contributions of the latter are more or less forgotten by the current generation of our countrymen. (Contemporary historian Ramachandra Guha has, however, given these two men their due credit in his book, Makers of Modern India, 2010)   

Actually, the story of their friendship is a case of curious chemistry between two diametrically opposite public personalities. Unlike the unique relationship between Nehru and Gandhi – two uncharacteristic political allies united by a common cause, the bond between Periyar and Rajaji  was a strange one - of harsh political rivalry in public and warm personal affinity in private.  

EV Ramaswamy Naicker, a.k.a Periyar, the chief architect of the Dravidian (self-respect) movement that sought to eliminate caste and untouchability from the society, was a dyed-in-the-wool atheist and rationalist. Coming from a relatively lower caste, albeit a rich household, he was extremely vociferous about his disdain for religion and Brahminism, which he believed were at the root of the social and economic inequalities in the country.

He scandalised the God-fearing section of the society by proclaiming that, “anyone who believed in God was a primitive”.  He fought tooth and nail to give the indigenous Tamil (Dravidian) race a social berth and identity independent of the dominant Aryan/ Brahmin culture prevailing then. His radical stance on these issues earned him several enemies among Brahmins, who were then a dominant force in the society.  

Contrast this with the persona of C. Rajagopalachari a.k.a Rajaji, the epitome of the Brahmin elite – a committed theist and a renowned literateur. Deeply religious, and a pious Hindu, Rajaji was also a devout Gandhian who led the Salt Satyagraha movement in the South. 

An accomplished writer, he was one of the co-founders of the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, a body that primarily promoted Aryan culture; he also translated the great Sanskrit epics into English and authored a book on Hinduism.  

In short, he was a complete antithesis of what Periyar stood for.
One a well-educated, smooth-talking statesman, an intellectual and connoisseur of arts & literature, the other, a school drop-out but a sharp businessman and a fire-brand activist.

Chalk and cheese? The dissimilarities don’t end there.

Periyar was a staunch supporter of women’s rights and raised his voice against child marriages, orthodox marriages and suppression of women, and also promoted widow remarriage. He fought for women’s right to education and their equal rights to property. He held and voiced liberal views on divorce and birth control.  On the other hand, Rajaji’s views on women’s role in public life was pretty much conservative; to quote Ramachandra Guha, “he saw them as home makers and carriers of our culture, but not really as independent agents in their own right.”

Based on the social reforms initiated by Periyar at the grass-root level as the Chairman of Erode Municipality (Erode is a textile town in Tamil Nadu), it was Rajaji, who persuaded the former to join the Congress. Both the men were staunch detractors of caste-based discrimination and were united in their war against untouchability.

Initially, a committed member of the Congress and a devout follower of Gandhi, Periyar eventually fell out with both on the issue of reservation for the backward classes, which went against the Congress motto of treating all Indians as equals. While the Congress led by Gandhi believed that in India, religion (and hence, caste) could not be delinked from politics, Periyar was of the opinion that real freedom for people would come only from their liberation from the oppressive caste-based social hierarchy.  However, Periyar’s polarised stance on various burning issues did not stop Rajaji from trying to bring him back into the Congress fold at various junctures, albeit unsuccessfully.

Later, in 1953, on becoming the CM of Madras state Rajaji introduced a new education system which laid stress on students learning their family vocation to help them build upon their skills to earn a living. This was a genuine attempt to balance practical experience with academics. But, the Dravidan parties, including Periyar’s, protested vehemently. They saw this as a vile attempt of the upper class to return to the old caste-based (which was originally vocation-based) social order.

So, over a period spanning nearly five decades, the two men pitted themselves against one another, never missing a political opportunity to point their daggers at each other’s throats.    

And yet, on the personal front, these two men shared a warm rapport, one that is very rare in politics.  In his sunset years, when Periyar was faced with the threat of rebellion by his party men over his plans to remarry, the person he turned to for personal counsel was none other than his arch political rival, Rajaji.  The story goes like this. Periyar, at age 72, wanted to marry his long-time companion Maniammai, half his age, in order to nominate her as the heir to his party. On this matter, he consulted Rajaji, who, it is believed, advised against the marriage warning that it would do irreparable damage to Periyar's image.  Nevertheless, Periyar went ahead with his decision and married Maniammai. Some years later, when Rajaji called upon his ailing friend, he reportedly thanked Maniammai for taking care of his friend well. It is believed that the camaraderie exhibited by the two men in this meeting surprised Maniammai so that she likened their mutual affinity to that shared by a married couple.

When Rajaji passed away in December 1972 at the age of 94, it is said that an ailing Periyar, aged 93, insisted on attending the cremation, where he apparently broke down, possibly re-living memories of their kinship.  Incidentally, periyar exited this world exactly a year later, in December 1973, probably in search of his friend.