Every one has something to say about this. I do too.
I was walking back home last night. It was 1 AM. I saw a man coming towards me. He was wearing a blue t-shirt and a jacket with the hood on. He had long hair and was well built.
There are about 20 terrorists roaming around in Mumbai, free and carrying AK 47s.
I quickly figured, in case of a possible assault, I won’t be able to beat him.
I saw him pass me. We both stared at each other and moved on. But I looked back; just to check if he was taking out an AK 47 to shoot me.
I live in a housing society, which has a decent security system.
I was surprised at what happened. The pacifier was not the faith in the stranger but the faith in the security of the society. Isn’t this very strange?
I can’t understand the rationale behind some reactions I have heard.
Some say we are making a big deal out of it just because its Mumbai, Kashmir has seen terror for decades now.
For all that its worth, a 100 people dying for no real reason, is a tragedy, wherever it is. The horror in one situation cannot lessen the other. Whether its Kashmir, Iraq or Mumbai, dead people are dead people, aren’t they?
It seems like the most obvious thing, why deny it? To sound cool and fearless? In front of whom?
Some said the media is hyping things to sensationalize and spread fear. It’s the same monotonous thing they show every 10 mins.
Sensational or not, it is news. It’s information coming in spite of extreme danger in the areas. I don’t really agree with the tone of some of the reporters, but over all, I’m glad some one was there doing it for me, and I got to see it.
Then the most annoying ones and also the biggest in number are those who harp about ‘Mumbai spirit’. These people claim that the aim of the terrorists is creating fear and we shouldn’t give in. hence we should carry on with our lives like it’s any other normal day.
First of all, to think that these fidaians, who volunteered to kill and die so that they go to paradise, would have a motive it self is giving them immense respect.
A news channel showed a couple with a 6 month kid taking a family walk along chowpathi. The journalist asked them why they were out and why did not staying in doors, to this, they responded, that they wouldn’t want to sacrifice their enjoyment because of terrorism, then the terrorists’ motive would be achieved. If they had been shot then and there, the reason for their death would be stupidity. The army and Navy are in the city for gods sake, that means situation is not normal. Is that so difficult to understand?
I have no clue who did this and for what reason. I know this; there are people with guns roaming around in police jeeps randomly shooting at people. The police and the army are trying to catch them. In the middle of all this, the civilian public is not the focus of the situation. No body cares at least while the battle is still on, whether you give in to fear or not. The only focus right now would be keeping everyone safe.
I’m sitting in my office today. I’m here to work on a presentation that NEEDS to be finished. It’s a red coloured template, with a big ‘[V]’ written in the right hand bottom corner. I’m trying to establish the habits of the core TG, so that the channel can be more relevant.
I give two hoots about it right now. So I am pretending to work. Typing furiously, staring at me monitor.
It seems like just another day, people ordering for omelets and discussing GRPs, but its strange sitting here pretending like it’s just another day. There is an excitement and curiosity all around, to see the story unfold further. More action, more news.
Every one is a little worn out though. Two days of continuous NDTV coverage can do this to anyone, where Barkha Dutt is telling us that we must remain stoic.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Flashbacks Of A Fool
V wrote this for me:
May 15, 2007
Incandescent Metaphors
An angel stopped at my door step
Give me a little of your tomorrow
without cabs with neon lights honking
without screens with virtual windows blinking
Write me down in pieces
of incandescent metaphors
How do I dress her up in words?
She has found a home in some lazy moment
or maybe, is still scouting for one,
in pieces of yesterdays & tomorrows.
There are always so many.
She flows along turbulently
wearing reflections of the sky.
The sky does not understand;
she does not explain.
She flows down truculently
with banks on either side, dawn & twilight.
The banks-
are they wings
or are they anchors?
Naive, she forgives mirages
for being abhorrent & arrogant;
but follow them, she does.
There is so much to her
& just too little that one can know.
How do I make her up
& let her out of herself?
An innocent angel
still waits at my doorstep;
or is she a conniving witch?
------
And I responded:
May 17, 2007
Witches Can Rhyme
What would the sky know
Of hot fire and cold snow?
How can the banks see
The violence below the sea?
What’s hidden; what’s shown
Can’t dress up the unknown
A themeless hollow tale
Gets boring and pale
So put away the pen
Think and maybe then
You would actually write
With all your might
I’m neither a witch nor an angel
Its all perspective and angles!
Yeah right Buzz off!!
----
Now when I look back, this is what the essence of it all was;
Some poetic and vague rendezvous, which had seemed like everything then.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Ratlam Diaries
The story really is of a journey, through the border of MP and Raj, also known as the 'Heartland' of India.
Part 1: The Queen Sized Bed
This eventful journey started with a halt at a plush, pampered stay at Sayaji Hotel, which sort of out of reach for me, generally speaking.
The deluxe suite had a home theater system, a Video Ipod, A multimedia system with internet, and 2 large heavenly beds, which sunk in by a foot, making it by far, the best bed I have slept on, yet.
The background of course is that I have never stayed at a place so blatantly luxurious (expensive) before. Hence the excitement, To tell you the truth, I was besides myself, moving around with a broad grin - thankfully, I didn't have to showcase the stupidity and the sheer LS-ness to anyone else. The sad part was the stay lasted for less than 12 hours, and it felt sinful to get up at 7 AM, out of THAT bed and out of THAT room.
Sneha, who was accompanying me in the adventure had booked an A/C cab for the 2 days of our stay. We hopped on, and set out for Ratlam in the morning, while Sneha was trying to explain to me her liking for Air conditioned anything.
Part 2: The pretty little thing
Sneha was my only companion on this rather unforgettable tour, it became important for me to get along with her.
Now, Sneha is a pretty little thing. Wears sunglasses when out in the sun, wears a perfect smile when talking to anyone and everyone, and moves her hand gracefully when talking.
She is really, a work of beauty and grace.
Hence, most of the time, when she would speak, I would just look at how she moved her hands, or settled her hair, or put on the glasses and took them off (which happened exactly 243 times on the way to Ratlam).
She is also, the only woman I know, who was told thrice by complete strangers (all women) that she was beautiful, and that they would like to call her, if she didn't mind sharing her number, all in front of me. She has some sort of a charm and an ease about talking to people.
She is in the right business then I suppose, of understanding people. I guess extracting insights becomes that much easier, when the respondents are falling in love with you!
Part 3: Maneuvering Through The Bosom of the 'Heartland'
National Highway 79.
The road form Indore to Ratlam takes about 4 hrs to cover.
The road was brilliantly and consistently not there. There was just no road. We drove on mud and dust, and what felt like a huge chain of crates left by some serial meteor attack, or footprints of a 50 foot woman, who chose to walk the whole way. Eeshwar, the cab driver, told as that the road is in great condition, after Ratlam, which at that time seemed like a useless piece of information. We took a break from the Marathon jiggle-all-muscles exercise, and ate, what was, the best poha I have ever had. And then followed it by drinking, what was and would be for a long time, the worst chai I have ever tasted. The chai was unbelievably hideous to taste. It wasn’t a liquid to start with; it was a thick gooey, brown... thing. I promptly returned the cup, and chose Masti Mango Juice, which was nice.
Once back on the err… road, Eeshwar really tried his best to make sure we had our share of thrill on the way, that for sure, kept me awake for the rest of the journey. Sneha, was panicking, first demanding and later requesting him to drive more carefully. This added as a fuel to Esshwar's now puffed ego. The POWER, baby, was with him. Cocky Eshwar and Panicking couple - (Me and Sneha of course), hence kept ourselves engaged through out the nerve wrecking journey.
Part 4 : Bandhej - The worst kinds
After we finished our work in Ratlam on the first night, we set out into the heart of the town, Manekh Chowk, where we were told, you get the best Daal Baati in the state. We went to Shriram Daal Baati waala.
It was a room, with iron desks arranged along the corners, and the walls had cemented seating arrangements. Me and Sneha occupied a desk, and ordered for 2 daal Baatis. After having learnt the technique to eat it, by staring at other desks and asking Sneha questions that sounded stupid, we went on to eat 2 plates each. At this point, when I was trying to break the baati into crumbles and mix the ghee in it, Sneha pointed out to me, that everyone in the room was staring at us, and actually talking among themselves about us - they made no attempt to hide this.
Then we realised that actually, there were no women in that place, not even with family. And for that matter, we hadn’t seen a single woman outside on the road, or in the market.
It was 8 PM then.
We finished our food and came out and were waiting for Eeshwar to finish eating. We stood on the road, realising that everyone there was staring at us as well.
We chose to ignore. Actually, there was no other option.
An old man came rushing past us, brushing my shoulder rather painfully. I didn't react. He did. He turned back and yelled, "idhar kya raste mein khade ho, dhandha karna hai toh kahin aur jaao" I stared back at him, filled with anger and irritation. It was an unnecessary conversation I thought, so I turned back. But it didn’t end there.
He continues ranting, "aurat log ko raaste pe kya kaam hai, bekaar raaste rok ke khadi ho jaati hain. Ghar pe baitho jao .... mumbled gaalis" I didn’t react. It was too late by the time I realised what he had said.
After a gap of 5 min, we heard the typical, "Chammak Challo, Nikli Kidhar, Chal tujhe jannat dikhata hoon"
I have heard this before. But this time, I was shocked at the shamelessness with which it was said. There was no sign of guilt, shame, nothing. These were 4 boys, 19-20 yr olds, looking at us in the eye and saying this, and not stopping with it. I pulled Sneha out of the way, when one of them tried to pull her Kurta, trying to tease.
They weren’t planning to speed off after that, the engine was off!
We backed off and stood inside a thela, assuming the chai wala as our protector, who seemed scarily indifferent to what was happening. They left at their will, after having achieved the satisfaction of having ‘teased’ 2 women.
In a span of 10 minutes, my confidence in myself and to an extent in human kind in general, was in the dumps.
I felt naked.
Among all the times when I felt embarrassed, shocked and abused, this was very high up. The sheer lack of reaction our part and forthrightness on theirs, was a dreadful combination.
The Chai wala later asked us, what we thought was so important that we had to hit the road after dark.
All this might seem natural, as it seems to me in hindsight. But what sets this incident apart from others is my inability to react. There was no reason for them to hesitate. We didn’t give them any.
I was simply, too afraid.
Part 5 : The Lost Battle
Colourful Bandhej Prints
Pink - Orange - Blue - Yellow
Ghoonghat till the chin
Chooda - Nathni
There was nothing unusual about the women in Ratlam. The scene was what we had expected out of a small town. I had gone there to talk to people, about television and about life there in general. What I didn't expect was to be provoked and challenged to feel empathy and unfortunately, sympathy.
Ratlam is a colourful confluence of two of the most stringent clans in the country – The Rajputs and the Marwari jains. While the food and the clothes were mesmerising, the state of women there was embarrassing. Some statements that were made during the groups for research form a story, from a distant world, from our world.
We went there to understand what they liked on Television, what we found was that a television was not just an entertainment medium - It was unfortunately, their lone companion.
More on that in another post
Part 1: The Queen Sized Bed
This eventful journey started with a halt at a plush, pampered stay at Sayaji Hotel, which sort of out of reach for me, generally speaking.
The deluxe suite had a home theater system, a Video Ipod, A multimedia system with internet, and 2 large heavenly beds, which sunk in by a foot, making it by far, the best bed I have slept on, yet.
The background of course is that I have never stayed at a place so blatantly luxurious (expensive) before. Hence the excitement, To tell you the truth, I was besides myself, moving around with a broad grin - thankfully, I didn't have to showcase the stupidity and the sheer LS-ness to anyone else. The sad part was the stay lasted for less than 12 hours, and it felt sinful to get up at 7 AM, out of THAT bed and out of THAT room.
Sneha, who was accompanying me in the adventure had booked an A/C cab for the 2 days of our stay. We hopped on, and set out for Ratlam in the morning, while Sneha was trying to explain to me her liking for Air conditioned anything.
Part 2: The pretty little thing
Sneha was my only companion on this rather unforgettable tour, it became important for me to get along with her.
Now, Sneha is a pretty little thing. Wears sunglasses when out in the sun, wears a perfect smile when talking to anyone and everyone, and moves her hand gracefully when talking.
She is really, a work of beauty and grace.
Hence, most of the time, when she would speak, I would just look at how she moved her hands, or settled her hair, or put on the glasses and took them off (which happened exactly 243 times on the way to Ratlam).
She is also, the only woman I know, who was told thrice by complete strangers (all women) that she was beautiful, and that they would like to call her, if she didn't mind sharing her number, all in front of me. She has some sort of a charm and an ease about talking to people.
She is in the right business then I suppose, of understanding people. I guess extracting insights becomes that much easier, when the respondents are falling in love with you!
Part 3: Maneuvering Through The Bosom of the 'Heartland'
National Highway 79.
The road form Indore to Ratlam takes about 4 hrs to cover.
The road was brilliantly and consistently not there. There was just no road. We drove on mud and dust, and what felt like a huge chain of crates left by some serial meteor attack, or footprints of a 50 foot woman, who chose to walk the whole way. Eeshwar, the cab driver, told as that the road is in great condition, after Ratlam, which at that time seemed like a useless piece of information. We took a break from the Marathon jiggle-all-muscles exercise, and ate, what was, the best poha I have ever had. And then followed it by drinking, what was and would be for a long time, the worst chai I have ever tasted. The chai was unbelievably hideous to taste. It wasn’t a liquid to start with; it was a thick gooey, brown... thing. I promptly returned the cup, and chose Masti Mango Juice, which was nice.
Once back on the err… road, Eeshwar really tried his best to make sure we had our share of thrill on the way, that for sure, kept me awake for the rest of the journey. Sneha, was panicking, first demanding and later requesting him to drive more carefully. This added as a fuel to Esshwar's now puffed ego. The POWER, baby, was with him. Cocky Eshwar and Panicking couple - (Me and Sneha of course), hence kept ourselves engaged through out the nerve wrecking journey.
Part 4 : Bandhej - The worst kinds
After we finished our work in Ratlam on the first night, we set out into the heart of the town, Manekh Chowk, where we were told, you get the best Daal Baati in the state. We went to Shriram Daal Baati waala.
It was a room, with iron desks arranged along the corners, and the walls had cemented seating arrangements. Me and Sneha occupied a desk, and ordered for 2 daal Baatis. After having learnt the technique to eat it, by staring at other desks and asking Sneha questions that sounded stupid, we went on to eat 2 plates each. At this point, when I was trying to break the baati into crumbles and mix the ghee in it, Sneha pointed out to me, that everyone in the room was staring at us, and actually talking among themselves about us - they made no attempt to hide this.
Then we realised that actually, there were no women in that place, not even with family. And for that matter, we hadn’t seen a single woman outside on the road, or in the market.
It was 8 PM then.
We finished our food and came out and were waiting for Eeshwar to finish eating. We stood on the road, realising that everyone there was staring at us as well.
We chose to ignore. Actually, there was no other option.
An old man came rushing past us, brushing my shoulder rather painfully. I didn't react. He did. He turned back and yelled, "idhar kya raste mein khade ho, dhandha karna hai toh kahin aur jaao" I stared back at him, filled with anger and irritation. It was an unnecessary conversation I thought, so I turned back. But it didn’t end there.
He continues ranting, "aurat log ko raaste pe kya kaam hai, bekaar raaste rok ke khadi ho jaati hain. Ghar pe baitho jao .... mumbled gaalis" I didn’t react. It was too late by the time I realised what he had said.
After a gap of 5 min, we heard the typical, "Chammak Challo, Nikli Kidhar, Chal tujhe jannat dikhata hoon"
I have heard this before. But this time, I was shocked at the shamelessness with which it was said. There was no sign of guilt, shame, nothing. These were 4 boys, 19-20 yr olds, looking at us in the eye and saying this, and not stopping with it. I pulled Sneha out of the way, when one of them tried to pull her Kurta, trying to tease.
They weren’t planning to speed off after that, the engine was off!
We backed off and stood inside a thela, assuming the chai wala as our protector, who seemed scarily indifferent to what was happening. They left at their will, after having achieved the satisfaction of having ‘teased’ 2 women.
In a span of 10 minutes, my confidence in myself and to an extent in human kind in general, was in the dumps.
I felt naked.
Among all the times when I felt embarrassed, shocked and abused, this was very high up. The sheer lack of reaction our part and forthrightness on theirs, was a dreadful combination.
The Chai wala later asked us, what we thought was so important that we had to hit the road after dark.
All this might seem natural, as it seems to me in hindsight. But what sets this incident apart from others is my inability to react. There was no reason for them to hesitate. We didn’t give them any.
I was simply, too afraid.
Part 5 : The Lost Battle
Colourful Bandhej Prints
Pink - Orange - Blue - Yellow
Ghoonghat till the chin
Chooda - Nathni
There was nothing unusual about the women in Ratlam. The scene was what we had expected out of a small town. I had gone there to talk to people, about television and about life there in general. What I didn't expect was to be provoked and challenged to feel empathy and unfortunately, sympathy.
Ratlam is a colourful confluence of two of the most stringent clans in the country – The Rajputs and the Marwari jains. While the food and the clothes were mesmerising, the state of women there was embarrassing. Some statements that were made during the groups for research form a story, from a distant world, from our world.
We went there to understand what they liked on Television, what we found was that a television was not just an entertainment medium - It was unfortunately, their lone companion.
More on that in another post
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