Ramble

The Pale Blue Wall

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On Mumbai’s busy roads, the pavements have lived to tell many tales. Tales of resilience, survival, joy, sadness, suffering and a co-existing framework which has every oxymoronic possibility surviving many a test. Including the test of time.
On a friday evening i stilled ongoing life on the pavement. Two photographs, clicked in quick succession, from the confines of a comfortable car that was moving. These scenes are so common, that the eyes refuse to stop and stare. On this particular Friday, my eye first saw and rested with what i saw. The capture by the camera provoked this post. Fortuitous images that are so common! The pictures tell a tale. Picture one. And Picture two. I attempt to tell the same.

Picture 1:

This appears to be a living quarters of a fellow Mumbaiite. There are pictures of ‘God(s)’ that hang from a borrowed wall. Multi hued images in a pale blue background get distilled attention. Dried leftovers of a garland adorning some pictures. A peacock feather perhaps in ‘honour’ of Lord Krishna. Or perhaps it was Lord Kartikeya. Life seems to have moved on. Goddess Lakshmi right up there. She, the Goddess of wealth seems devoid of the dried garland.

Stacked bricks on one side, which in all probability is a boundary of some sort. A stuffed polythene bag and another cloth bag that hang from two different nails add to the precociousness of the dwelling. On the same pale blue borrowed wall. Maybe, that was all. That made a room. Perhaps a home.

Of course, there is the red tiled pavement of the Mumbai http://www.eta-i.org/xanax.html Corporation and the blue sky of mother nature, which neednt be mentioned as they are not ‘personal belonging’. But in this context they seem relevant. Very.

Picture 2:

Right next door, life continues. Buckets which held engine oil once upon a time and a motley assembly of multi hued plastic pots metamorph into a partition. An old tarpaulin sheet and another polythene sheet which seem to have seen many monsoons and summers come & go, occupy the picture. Well, these sheets will tell quite a few stories. To the pavement and the sky ! Regardless of the stories, they do provide some kind of a roof and a stilled living quarters right below.

A clock on the wall stares through. Perhaps to tell time just in case mother nature plays truant !! The rope that holds the trapaulin together is fastened to a lamp post. And it doubles up as the cloth-line too. Life under a lamp post !

The cot and the cyle in front, lend themselves to become the front wall of the home. Whenever sleep or rest beckon, they sure must be moved. But that must be a different story. A plate with grains meets the eye. Odd placement though. Just before the cycle. Perhaps an offering. perhaps food for the night. Perhaps.

And oh yes, there is a bare chested man, tending to the Gods.

Life goes on, under the lamp-post. With the borrowed wall, the red pavement and the blue sky providing context. And oh yes, the Gods. They are up there too. On the pale blue borrowed wall.

A different paper !

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For many years now, reading the morning newspaper has been an activity looked forward to. An activity that started out many years ago in school. Where every student had to write a passage from the newspaper everyday and read it out to the class.

I remember walking upto my dad when he was in the deep discussion with a middle aged gentleman ( I remember the gentlemans face. He had big black eyes & thick eyebrows. I vividly recall how arched the eyebrows became and how big the eyes became after I popped the question.).

“ Appa, what is rape ?”

My dad understood that the reading the newspaper could have other consequences, like big black eyes to become bigger and thick eyebrows to arch like a bow. And a smart little ‘kaun Banega crorepati’ question worth one crore being thrown at him without a lifeline or a phone-a-friend possibility !

The practice of reading newspapers has remained ingrained. Even though many years ago the brand changed from what my father read ( & still reads). Perhaps the change in brand signalled my arrival into the ‘grown up’ world. As insignificant that it seemed at that time, looking back, i think it was an important point in my life.

The most serious of headlines these days have a smirk / & a smile escape my lips. I guess I have lost my bearings. Or the ‘news’ today’s newspapers carry!

That aside, I have been wondering what questions children of today would come up with. Each day the newspaper has had so many ‘interesting snippets’ that I shake my head in disbelief reading the headlines.

Especially so of the researches that get mentioned in the centre page. Here are a few headlines from recent times.

“Well fed babies earn more as adults : study.
Oral sex can cause cancer in men.
‘Key impact’ chimps initiate hunting.
Exercise makes you younger by 9 years.
Office Stress is killing, literally, find British researchers.”

These are researches from around the world, which holds a great deal of interest I guess for many a person. I am not sure if any of this is relevant, proven or adopted as modern day laws. Our newspapers will nevertheless carry them. I guess out of ‘general interest’. For the smile and smirk to escape my lips !!

My next post will be on a headline that I spotted on the Times of India some days back.

“NASA images hint at ‘naked woman’ on Mars”. Any thoughts on what I should be writing about ?

Republic Day Flavours

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Every Republic Day used to be special. I used to wear Khadhi and see contingents of the Police and the NCC walk past the collector at Madurai. Some years before that, I used to be walk by in the NCC ( National Cadet Corps) Navy contingent. Polished shoes, sparkling white uniform, and the marching drum used to be worth all the kilometers of marching in the name of rehearsals. ( Distance terms, I think we would have gone around the globe. Twice !).

I age. The nation ages. The republic day tone gets a new flavour. In the apartment complex where we stay, the motely crew of security gaurds ( & a loud ‘command giver’ ) became the mainstay of the Republic Day function.

When the loud ‘commander’ gave his orders “ Teen o teen dhaine chalega, Dhaine mode” ( ‘Right Turn’ to the uninitiated), some turned left. Others turned right. Some others turned halfway and turned halfway back again. Smiling sheepishly at each other, they were turning on all sides! I restrained my laughter! Come on, these were security gaurds & not remotely close to the marchers !!!

We waited patiently for 20 minutes for the music system to get some electricity. The flag remained all tied up.. It reminded me of the India that was till sometime back : All tied in, while the world turned around in all directions !!

Just as I was thinking electricity or rather the lack of it, was going to suck the electricity of the day, somebody decided to get on with it. The function got underway, and an elderly gent unfurled the flag and spoke about a whole lot of things. From upliftment of the apartment complex to rooting out corruption.

The tricolour didn’t seem to care. It waited for the first gust of wind to start fluttering. It did. In all its glory. First tentatively. Then a little confidently. Seemed to me, that the fluttering was an attempt to make up for all the delay in keeping it wrapped up and tied down.

As a nation we seem to have come a long way. From being tied to the mast for a long time, to where we are now. The wind has caught us & we seem to be fluttering away!! The times they have changed. My attitude has changed. I didn’t wear khadhi this time. Not consciously. But somehow I think I have moved on beyond symbolism.

And when the national anthem played, the chest swelled in as much pride as before. Perhaps a little more. To watch the tricolour flutter in all its glory. This ad has been a personal favourite for a long while. I think it is topical !

Taare Zameen Par

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The rave reviews and hearing some good feedback, propelled us to a theatre. To watch Taare Zameen Par. This is no review. Just my thoughts !

Good movie. Refreshingly different. Heres why. No dance sequences with dancers wearing clothes that would take us close to the days of adam & eve. No bad apple(s). No rain sequences. No ‘one-stroke-ten-people-fly’ sequences. No Switzerland. No swanky sets. No big bad guy wielding big guns. No sequence of cars….

And surprise. It still is a movie made in India. Still moving. Still enormously engrossing. And still holding attention of an almost house full theatre two – three weeks into the opening. For a 10.30 PM show. Well, that’s some chin scratching & thinking to do. Quite some. And hey watch that chin!

To me movies like this represent the refreshing presence of ‘thinking’ that is on. To look beyond. Yet see it as part of mainstream. And make it commercially viable. And more importantly making a mass of people do something that they are encouraged to less of these days: think!

The movie shows an Indian middle class family with the ‘regular’ ambitions of making it big. And it was a very vivid one at that. The ‘alarm-egg-bread-ariport’ sequence was so natural. I mean, so like my own life !

It is there that the movie wins over. Taare Zameen Par is a reachable & relatable movie. I mean, it could be my own house. Or my next door neighbour. It could have been my own school. My class mates. And Ishan or his elder brother could have been me or my brother ! The film is striking in the way it makes you connect to your past and atleast make a few resolutions about the future. As a film maker, that should give immense satisfaction!

The film revolves around a dyslexic child who struggles at school. And his struggle to overcome, aided by his art teacher. His struggle is gut wrenching. So much so, that I began squirming and hoping that help ( Aamir Khan ) would arrive soon. And help doesn’t do so till intermission. It is equally wrenching to think that such help doesn’t get presented to every other kid outside screen.

After that came a portion of a film which seemed to focus on ‘a message’ so much so that the pace seemed to falter. Thankfully, that’s only for a short time and it finally gets knit together well for a good & effective closure. I quite liked it! It is a film for every adult who is interested ( or has a responsibility ) in children & education must watch.

There were quite a few actors who held my attention by living the roles they played. Ishan. His dad. His mom. His brother. His classmates. His English teacher at boarding school. The hindi teacher. (I ‘saw’ some of my teachers). Prasoon Joshi’s lyrics, Ehsan Loy’s music, the camera..well, I guess I’ve got everybody covered !

I don’t think I need to write much about Aamir Khan. He’s got guts to direct and produce this movie. And is willing to sweat it through. Thats another lesson he teaches. By just being who he is. Hats off.

Our marks focused educations system needs some reform. Hope this and other films like this will bring in a mass momentum to understand the distinct differences between marks and learning. We have some distance to cover.

Now for other stuff. I frankly don’t understand how people can speak on mobile phones and bring small children to watch movies. At 10.30 PM in the night.

But the crown goes to this. At the end of the movie, just as we were trudging out, there was a mother who said in all seriousness to her small son, about Ishan Awasthi’s age : “ beta, you should also paint well like Ishan to get that first prize”.

I scratched my chin. And it hurt. Looks like we have a long distance to cover.

ad-judge !

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A good ad has always had me stop. And take another look. Perhaps because of the past association with advertising. Perhaps because of the “i-am-creatively-inclined-belief”. When Niru sent in a set of ads i did not realise i spent almost 45 minutes looking at them.

So much so that it warranted a post ! Thanks Niru !

With a grand image of myself of being a reality show judge.. i went about choosing some ads which caught my imagination. There is no grand prize and i am a nobody ( not that reality show judges are somebody) and these creative works any day are much better than Rakhee Sawant’s antics. So, there goes the reality show myth.

Reality show myth! Hey. that was an ‘almost’ oxymoron ! I guess the show came inbetween !

Ok..i guess you know by now that i have been listening to too much of radio and my ramble will put the worst radio jockey to shame !

Here is the first one. On female infanticide. I smiled when i first saw this. But when i came back to see it, it wrenched my stomach. ( To think of infanticide that is..)


This one needs no explanation. Straight drive. Or rather, straight drill !

This was both hilarious and drove the point home very clear. And as we lose more trees in the name of development, someday the edifices of development could be our central themes ! By God !

This was my favourite ! I havent seen a better ad for diamonds. I intend showcasing this to missus ! After all, its another stone. Chose the right stone..! Gift a rock !! For a minute i imagined. I said ‘for a minute !’ Yes. Then i stopped !

Come Back Returns !

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Its four months since Bombay..well..er..Mumbai is home.

And four months have passed by. Quite like Mumbai traffic. Seemingly slow. But quiet quick indeed. Or perhaps there have been too many things happening that we haven’t had the time to look closer at the time! (Again, quiet like when you are in Mumbai traffic)

The city has a distinct buzz to it. The BEST buses notwithstanding, this buzz is filled with, what appears to be a desire to just live upto a promise to deliver. To go on, no matter what. To exploit every minute and pluck out opportunity out of thin air, like Jonty Rhodes & his amazing catches

To somebody like me, who is used to living in the much cooler climes of Bangalore, this indeed is something that I am beginning to warm upto. To say the least. First thing on that strikes me is everybody most people are generally on time. Including the plumber to the security. Work assigned is usually completed. And people move ! ( Agarwal packers and movers are a notable exception. I perhaps had one heck of a horrible experience using them. I will be chronicling that separately).

When we moved here, if there was any single agreement between us, it was this: “no comparing Mumbai and Bangalore. We will soak up Mumbai and each experience it has to offer to us.” And we have been doing just that!

That brings me to the next question. What are some of the big tickets that stand out here in Mumbai ? What causes the traffic to move on despite the traffic signals not being followed by some. What is the essence of an intensely unique personal bonding through some ‘impersonal’ acts like being a co-passenger in a local train. How does diversity disappear in the mainstream yet have those distinct identities?

There seems to be an essence. An essence that I am not seeing beyond whatever is obvious. I am atleast aware that there is more beyond what I am seeing. And the full picture I perhaps will see soon. Soon.

A ‘Thank You’ rant.

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Been busy. Extremely busy. Mentally occupied. Physically tired. Every second has made its presence by its sheer fleeting nature ! Time for ‘Kavis Musings’ is becoming a luxury. But then, thats always been the case. And then there are some serious technology constraints that have shown up…!
As i dodge negative thoughts, fight apprehensions, climb imaginary walls ( & real ones too), i sometimes wonder what life is all about. But then, thats what life is all about. Isnt it ? Fighting your own self in the mind. Climbing imaginary walls. And scratching your hair as to what all this is about..?
And oh, by the way, smiling, picking up the pieces, staring into the future with hope while trying the best to live the present moment to the fullest.
And so, this blog lives. To fight another day !
I have been tardy in visiting your spaces and connecting up. Your coming here is valued and encouragement treasured. I will read too.
Soon. Very soon ! Promise.
And thank you.

Light Bulb Moments !

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The last few weeks saw a few intense moments. Moments that i call Light Bulb Moments ! And somehow, the speed at which the light bulbs seem to be going on is causing me to smile and wince at the same time. Smile at the future and wince at the past and the process.

A couple of days back there wasn’t any electricity at home. We winced and whined and complained. And ofcourse, discovered, that we couldnt do much. We couldn’t run to our safe sanctuaries of books and TV. We sat and talked. About us. Our futures. Fears. Hopes. Neighbours. Careers. Families. Traditions. And we chatted. Chatted. And chatted. And CHATTED. The lack of electricity in the house brought a strange electricity to our conversation. The darkness around me couldn’t conceal the strange light bulb went on inside me: Staying devoid of comfort was actually empowering.

Yesterday, the conversation with Sanjay made a few more light bulbs go on. As we got talking, i found the conversation strangely empowering. About my own self. Abot him. His journey. And mine. The impact of ones actions on others. (Amidst all this, there was one particular light bulb glowed intensely : I came face to face with a force within me which seeks out relationships and manifests itself through harmony.

But there was more to it which I am internalising. The beauty of yesterday’s conversation with Sanjay was that more connections to light bulbs that were established. Just the connections. I am sure the bulbs will glow in the future using the magic of future moments as electricity ! That One more light bulb on !

To be conscious of and aware of light bulbs when they go on: To me that is brightest of the bulbs. To be conscious of a new awareness of ones own self. Of ones own moods, thoughts and feelings. Aware of a skill that was missing or a possibility that can be used in the future.

The beauty of lifes lessons is their being are wrapped in everyday life. To be able to spot capture a LBM ( Light Bulb Moment) has deep impacts on life. Strange, that all you need to do is to talk and listen. Care and stay connected.

Simple things to do ?

Well, the answers lie in the Yellow Lemon Tree. Wonder how. Wonder Why !