Tidings of Timely Tide

High tides are beautiful, exciting things when they’re part of the view. They’re ugly threats when you see them flooding the road outside your building.

The last three evenings have been a ritual of sorts. With a relieved sigh and cumulative gratitude every successive evening, we thank the clouds for not raining when five metre high tides have hit the shores.

But, this afternoon I came home to see water gushing into the road in a hurry. One searching look at the watchman and he jumped at the chance. In typical television reporter mode, he started: That’s high tide! Almost accusing me of not being there each time, he thought it useful to inform me that the high tide flooding had been happening every afternoon. “But how would you know? Anyway, this is nothing. Yesterday, you should have seen how fast the tide swept in. There was water inside the premises. You’re lucky today. But don't worry. This will recede in an hour.”

He went on in great detail about the exact chronology of events of the past three days. I wanted to run away but didn’t want to be rude to the guy who guards our house the whole day. Besides, he’s the one who tells us there’s going to be no water supply till next morning. Who wants to upset the powers that be?

So, among other things, he got to tell me that people who pay a premium for houses near the sea suffer from a lack of intelligence. I told him he should’ve been a news reporter. That was a mistake. For some reason, he had this pleased as punch look on his face. “I can be a reporter. It’s very easy,” he looked at me expectantly. Then suddenly, “Must be the same story at ‘Amitabh bhaiya’s’ house, don’t you think?” For a moment he got me.

“Amitabh Bachchan? Yes. No. I don’t know. Took the other road,” I sauntered off. Now I know how much I value the crisply dressed, reticent watchmen at my earlier residence and the flood-proof parking too.

Once home, I had exactly the same conversation with my family. They agree with the watchman. No, they don’t agree with my Tughlaqi ideas of moving back to the hills. All’s well with the tide, they say.

This picture of me

Silence, I find myself
Picking up the pieces to solve this jigsaw
Cryptic picture prism
I'm trying to bring it together
Piece by uneven piece

Sometimes the shards sliver my hands
Opening up the flesh in red geometric patterns
My hands bleed
I'm happy and sad at every other flake
Reflections at each summon

Scattered moments drift quietly through the prism
Looking for jumbled smiles to settle down on
Half way through
I'm beginning to understand the enigma
The fragments that seem to fuse

Strings of light brush by my hands
Sealing the jagged line seams
Perfect in asymmetry
I'm learning to love the infinite parts of me
A privilege not many have

Stillness, I find myself
Dissolving into my innate essence
Awake once again
I'm yearning to complete this picture
This beautiful picture of me.

© 1998 Richa Singh

Return of the Rain God -- anticipation vs apprehension

After a long delay and a couple of false starts, it rained early morning today, but hardly. The rains are one hesitant tot this time around -- to pee or not to pee is their dilemma -- so much so that Bombay is almost starved of drinking water.

This puddle of a piddling onset stark-contrasts the fact that we’re expecting unprecedented high tides to coincide with heavy rains around July 24. Scarcity and Plenty, the two melodramatic characters that love playing power games with Bombay, are at it again. Tango-ish as that may sound, osmosing from desiccation to drowning in a month from now is nobody’s idea of fun. Sounds too much like the return of July 26, 2005.

So, matching the fervent prayers for the Rain God’s blessings is the public indignation at the grand civic announcements that were followed, in quite a few areas, by half-hearted, half completed, not-necessarily-effective road and drainage works which only promise to make the contractors and their brothers richer every time it rains more than 3 centimeters. But somehow, this mass anger doesn’t translate into anything constructive, not substantially at least. That is, not counting the money the media makes out of seasonal changes and their upshot -- good, bad or ugly.

Accordingly, Bombayites -- who are just about coming off their summer spend on airconditioners and dehumidifiers -- are now planning to hoard food items, drinking water, batteries, torches and water pumps, among other things. Trust in civic works is low, in fate -- high.

The rich and the nervous are booking elevated parking lots in five star hotels and malls around the date while a few have made up their minds to get away from it all -- after stashing up and away prized valuables, of course. The not-so-rich are alarmed but are working out smart solutions. Many on lower floors are making arrangements with their higher floor neighbors. Some have ordered for window projections, balcony shields and makeshift floor elevations. My cook intimated us almost a month ago of a two-day off she’d take mid July to help her husband build a plank raft -- in case things come to that again! A few, like my housekeeper's son, are simply putting up a brave front. His family lives in a low lying area close to the sea and has not much recourse.

Watching this pre-monsoon circus from a not-so-safe distance, I speculate if the anticipation of divine providence will score over the apprehension of nature’s wrath.

Come July end, we’ll see which wins.

We deserve what we accept

Mumbai is under attack -- yet again. And, this time it is war. No less. Undeniably.

I salute our under paid, highly stressed military and police but I ask of our people, our government and our intelligence: So what are we going to do about this? Discuss, dissect, promise, get promises?

Some weak, hollow action? As always?

And, what do normalcy and safety, food, water, housing, power, infrastructure, jobs, caste, community, floods, drought -- name it -- have anything to do with which political party is in power?

Why are we hosting a parasitical system that first creates these issues and then ties up these to politics and not the governance process, thus feeding on us, threatening to destroy us eventually?

Why is public resilience a rule and good governance an exception?

We deserve what we accept.

So, what next? The same track? I don't think so. Yes, this city, this country has an indomitable, resilient spirit. So? Jingoistic though it may sound, be warned those who challenge it, this spirit could burn yours. It will.

We, The other People

Kill the business of terrorism

Rainsoon

What’s with the rains these days? It makes you wait for a week and then it pours enough to turn buildings into islands. And then it goes back to playing that game over again. I was hoping for a drizzling weekend so I could go out for one of my treasured long walks on Bombay’s beautiful promenades, like I do every rains. But, no such luck. Please, please, pleeeease rain by evening or this Sunday’s gone forever.

July 1 showers

About to rain

Raining

Rained

Changed the view?

Yes. It did. Rakhi Sawant won a television dance talent show! The channel's been true to its tagline, I guess. For only the second time among many seasons of numerous talent reality shows, the most deserving candidate won a very well-deserved title! All I have to say is: Why? How? OMG!!! You guys have gone nuts or what? Someone in your channel got Gandhigiri ka bukhar or what? Even if the Chiller Party was your best excuse, it did good. The only other time this happened was when Tina-Hussain won another such show.

Okay so, before anyone thinks that I am a Rakhi Sawant fan, or worse, spokesperson, I’d like to clarify: Of course! I am. I love this girl. Yes, she’s loud. Alright, she’s really, really loud and nothing puts me off more than loud filmy people, but I do like her -- for her guts, her immense talent, her creativity, her all out effort and dedication, her perfection, and above all, her honesty that is so brutal to everyone and herself.

Child like, vulnerable honesty is at a premium. Don’t see much of it anywhere. I have tremendous respect for that. Someone tell Rakhi about this. Tell her I respect her.

The Pursuit of Perfection

Someone said, and I don’t care who, that perfectionism is a reflection of deep seated insecurities. True. But, this was revealed to me long time back. Enlightening as it was, the follow up truth and its corollaries are here for all of you to savour -- at my expense of course!

Truth # 1: Perfection and happiness are mutual antidotes -- they cure each other. Don’t ask for the gory details.
Corollary Truth # 1: Perfectionism sets into motion the Karmic wheel. It spins!
Corollary Truth # 2: Perfectionism and prioritisation become strange enemies that often sleep together. Coupled with the two above, this can be more confusing than you bargained for.

Who am I to say all this? Take it from an ex-perfectionist, baby. By the way, I have been off perfectionism for the longest time, I swear. So now, someone explain to me why I still keep running into ex- Karmic companions ;-) so to speak. Some special spiritual affinity or what? God really has a wry sense of humour.

Rules and exceptions

Upside down
The other way around
That’s how the world spins
Say that again, after a couple of gins.

How come every time in every television reality/talent show, the most talented, deserving and popular candidate, as a rule, does not win? And, your options are:
a. Because the unexpected fetches greater TRPs?
b. Because shock value fuels discussion and creates a longer after-life for the show?
c. Because influential candidates and/or their god-fathers/mothers are obliged?
d. All of the above.

The only problem with this strategy, oops tactic that TV shows have adopted time after time – and successfully! – is that it’s become see-through now, and extremely ‘expected’. And, it’s funny how the unexpected has become more the rule than the exception. In fact, this Nach Baliye season, you could have placed a surefire bet against the Rakhi-Abhishek jodi, not because they wouldn’t have won but because they should have. They were sheer magic. Undeniably. Personally, Rakhi-Abhishek got me to watch television after a very long time.

Again, it’s a little difficult – very difficult actually – to believe that the other couple got more votes (SMSes) than Rakhi-Abhishek. So, what happened to their share of SMSes? Anybody’s guess. The SMS game is so lucrative – channels and production houses, auditing firms and telecom companies are all laughing, singing and dancing all the way to the bank! And don’t be mistaken – so are the reality show losers.

By all means, think positive and look at how all this nach-gaana is positively affecting the television, banking and telecom industries. But also see that in all this, the audiences are the only ones looking like clowns with mobiles in their hands.

So, who got the love, who the luck and who the laughter!!??
!!!!

Glowing Yellows

He was the one destined to love her and cherish her and make her feel proud of being a woman. The saat pheras were so magical. He had promised to fulfil her life, reach it to its ultimate destiny – a life well lived and loved. It felt like yesterday when she and her school buddy Anjali were whispering and giggling before her wedding night. She had told Anju she would have borne his baby anyway – marriage or no marriage. ‘What does it feel like to bear the child of the man you love so much,’ she had wondered aloud, ‘do men ever understand that?’ Are they capable of understanding that? Why don’t women ever say it? Of course, in what words.

But what was he saying – she couldn’t hear anything. What did he have in his hands? This was all wrong. His eyes looked so different. That liquid kept sloshing down her ears for so long – a minute stretched to eternity. A familiar smell, was it? Everything was in slow motion. It happens when you’re in love or, sometimes, when you’re in shock.

She had dreamt of a life of roses, soft whispers, surprises that would sweep her off her feet – Anju had all that – loving glances across crowded rooms, long drives in their new car. That smell is petrol. But she never kept any petrol in the kitchen. She didn’t need petrol – not in the kitchen.

What was he doing? And what was that something burning? She could smell something but couldn’t figure out what. Everything was dulled and hazy. She couldn’t feel a thing. She was floating in a vacuum. There were bright shades of yellow. Beautiful shades she had never seen before. She kept floating, passing through her dreams. Everything was black and white except for those beautiful yellows, glowing and shimmering through her.

She could see a little from the eyes that she thought were swollen. Actually they were charred, with lumps and loose flesh hanging from the lids. One of her eyes had dim vision.

He was on the phone now, sitting on one of their exquisite mahogany dining table chairs. He looked so good, his jaw line profiled in the dark by the yellows that were shining through her. He was whispering into the phone. His voice sounded as if it came from a far, far away place. He didn’t even look once – just kept down the phone and started throwing about things. In a few moments, her beautiful house looked battered and broken. But he had a calm look on his face. So everything must be alright. It must be.

Then he went to the door and that woman came in. Who was she? Never had seen her, had she? Too many questions were swimming in that vacuum.

He was breaking all the vows for another woman but shock has a wonderful quality – it numbs you. There was absolute silence and then there was nothing, just like in the beginning.

© Copyright, Richa Singh, 2002

This was my first attempt at writing short stories. The story dates back to May 11 2002 but the experience that crystallized into this story dates back to 1993. The context of the real story was very different from the one here – it was a dowry burns case. I go numb everytime I recall standing by the hospital bed of a 40% burns victim, with her ma-in-law reclining on an adjacent couch. I can never forget the girl – she was exceptionally beautiful (not saying this because she was burnt…she actually was beautiful by traditional Indian standards of beauty) and I can never forget the plump ma-in-law with thick kohl eyes and straight, sharp lips. The hospital staff told us her hubby never came to see her.

SETI should tie up with Google

Yeah well! Doesn’t that say it all?

But brevity flies out of the window when I’m very annoyed or very happy.

Ok, so they turned email into search. They turned chat into search. They turned communities into search. They turned people and pictures and postcards and pretty much the whole planet and beyond into search. Life is a quest!

Search is not prêt a porter anymore. It's haute couture.

Crawling the whole wide world became stale. So they ‘personalised’ my search and my bookmarks and what have you – in other words, my preferences – and tracked me down to the last tag that they believe defines me ‘personally’. So that they can recommend relevant ads and stuff in my mail box and sometimes even on the webpages I land on.

They even tied down my blogs to my user account and promptly informed me that they’re not dumb enough to offer a revert option. And, the new version doesn’t like being exported – Do no evil, darling!

If this tracker were human, it would be very confused by now!! Tracking is okay. Collating all my ‘preferences’ is okay too. I just hope they’re not trying to make composite sense out of it all. That would land the poor thing in an asylum. Kya karen, I am tho like that only!

I’m not complaining. Naah! Just getting inspired. My current project pretty much thrives on this inspiration – in a different context though. Besides, what’s wrong with customization? People are customizing and personalizing their unborn kid’s eye color! Everything goes.

So am I happy or annoyed right now? Well! Look me up. Oops! I mean call me or gmail me or gtalk me or..... if ESP is your thing, try it. I have a feeling ESP might be the next big thing in search!

My $0.02: The universe is out there and it is searchable and who knows even customizable. If only the SETI Institute (Search for Extra Terresterial Intelligence) could do some soul searching and tie up with them.. God knows what the search might throw up!

More on Search: Watch this space!

Retirement plans

Come on now! You don’t expect personal finance dope on a blog called Love luck & laughter, do you? This is about my ‘other retirement plans’ most of which I’ve been tweaking and turning since aeons. And now that it’s time for my open-eyed power nap, blogging it somehow seems more constructive than just daydreaming it. Here goes...

1. Surface for air. Take in a lungful or two. Plunge in again - into a new life, that is.
2. Take a long vacation with family – somewhere on this beautiful planet.
3. Take a vacation from this planet – earn enough to afford that.
4. Learn to dance like Shakira. Hold on, this shouldn’t be on this list – by retirement, I might not have this waistline!
5. Get that black belt in unarmed military combat – was supposed to join this in May 2005. Shouldn’t be on this list either.
   Expect an update on 4 and 5 max by March-April this year. If you don’t, please be nice enough to remind me of this post.
6. Learn Indian classical vocal music – this is strictly post retirement.
7. Read all the books from the ‘books to read before you die’ list.
8. Write a book or two, or three or....
9. Watch all the movies from the ‘films to watch before you die’ list.
10. Make a movie (?) Maybe. Perhaps. Sort of. Sure. Why not? We’ll see.
11. Build a world class school and library in Ma’s hometown and get the girls there to join it. (Till date, she remains the only girl to have moved out of that small, extremely conservative north Indian town for higher studies. But, not everyone has the family support that she had, that too in the sixties. I didn’t – not even in the nineties!)
12. Set up a home for the homeless (A 50-seater start wouldn’t be bad at all. Ok, will start with 10 if I have to). This after I get my first holiday home somewhere in the mountains – of course, I am my first priority!
    Big dreams, no money, not a single soul in my network willing to fund or help raise funds either. Will have grey hair by the time I have the influence to raise funds for 11 and 12!
13. Subject to further siestas and the shape of things to come.

That’s my lucky number. I’m done with this list for now and feeling relatively awake. All I need now is chai - manna from heaven it is! If you see me losing track of this list, let me know.

Because they wring your ears @ 40k

And the Air Pressure Regulation Award - Domestic goes to…
Kingfisher Air.

As a perennial ENT patient, I have earned my right to give away this award.

My problem with air pressure fluctuations is not just during take-off and landing. It lasts all through the flight. A two hour flight becomes stressful and a five hour one is a potential killer. It starts with an annoying buzz in my ears and by the time we reach 40k feet, my ears go into labor. Any more bad flights (of which I’ve had quite a few) and I might just go deaf.

It’s not funny how I start hoarding lozenges before every take off. I ask for candies the moment I board and every time this typical conversation takes place:

“But, we will be offering the welcome kit and the breakfast soon after take off Ma’am.”
“Oh no, I want it for take off .”
A puzzled look, and then it dawns on her.
“I get ear aches, please.”
The knowing smile.
“Of course Ma’am. Gimme a sec”

And there I am... sitting with a pile of candies even before I can belt myself in the seat!

For your airborne ears only

If your sinuses act like mine, forget the life jacket – you won’t need that. Try this for basic survival:

• Chewing gum, candies and lozenges – I literally survive on these.
• Swallow often. Yawning helps too.
• It’s a good thing they offer tea on flights. Somehow sipping on hot tea works better if you don’t add milk.
• If it gets really bad, breathe in through your mouth, and then try to breathe out through your nose while holding your nose shut. Do this gently – too much force and you could damage your ear drums.
• Use a decongestant spray– But if you’re flying often, you wouldn’t want to take unnecessary medication every time.
• If you have serious ENT issues and can’t give up flying, talk to your doctor before booking tickets and the pilot after boarding. I don’t know what exactly the pilot does but you’ll be taken care of.
• Fill up the feedback form.

Naah! TV's not dying shying

This blog was never meant for news links kindofstuff. Anyhow, check this out: TV is dying? Long live TV!

For those who can't bear to venture away from my blog (i know, i know.. stop rolling your eyes), here are some excerpts:

Despite (or because of) the Web, we watch more television than ever....

In the chaos of today's media and technology brawl - iPod-vs. Zune, Google vs. Yahoo, Windows vs. Linux, Intel vs. AMD - we can declare one unlikely winner....

Once the World Wide Web appeared in the mid-1990s, the future looked very clear. Boring old TV, the scheduled programs that come to you through a coaxial cable or satellite dish or antenna, would fade away. Which is exactly the opposite of what has happened.

Despite many Net Age alternatives, we Americans today watch more boring old TV than ever, which is saying something. The numbers are staggering: The average U.S. household watched eight hours and 14 minutes of television a day last season, says Nielsen Media Research. The average individual American watched four hours and 35 minutes a day. Both figures are the highest ever measured in Nielsen's 50-plus years of tracking viewership - and they don't include time spent watching TV on computers.....

The supposed threat from the Internet was that we'd cut back on TV as we spent more time on MySpace or in Second Life. We may well spend more time on such new Net attractions, but we're unlikely to take that time away from video viewing. We're more likely to cut back on things we consider less important, like sleep.....

Take a Power Nap Officially!

It’s people like me who fostered the need for midnight malls. Now, I would proudly take due credit for boosting midnight retail and the India shining story but the late nights at work have started showing up in embarrassing ways.

I emailed the CEO one night only to realize the next morning that ‘besides’ had been spelt ‘bedside’. Thankfully, he understands that by 11 pm my brains start hibernating and Freudian slips give away my immediate priorities.

Again, hitting the head on the computer while innocently nodding off post-lunch is not uncommon in our office. No sweat. We have a well-stocked first aid kit.

Don’t get me wrong. We are among the most talented, hardworking employees anyone can find but post-lunch drowsiness affects us pretty much as it would others. In fact, I’m pretty sure other offices have their own stories.

Even so, the last time the office went into sleep mode, it prompted my quest for a constructive analysis of our collective and, seemingly, contagious post-lunch lassitude vis-à-vis that of other offices.

Didn’t exactly find a comparative tool for community sleep sessions but here’s where you can find out your individual Sleepiness Quotient. And, if you’re particularly empathetical towards the cause and want to chart how quickly you fall asleep during quiet daytime situations, you can take a Multiple Sleep Latency Test. You can even participate in an MWT Study to see how alert you are during the day.

Just make sure your boss doesn’t get his/her hands on these. And if s/he does, you can always suggest in-office installations of Metronaps sleep pods. Take a look at what some lucky souls do post-lunch:

They sleep - in specially designed sleeping pods! Now, nap parlors in offices are not unheard of, even in India. But yes, they're rare. The first time I saw a nap lounge at an office - replete with recliner chairs, couches and drawn shades - I remained in awe of the company's management for days. And, it was not even an American company with fancy new-age HR policies. This was a traditional Indian manufacturing giant.

As for us, we don’t have state-of-the-art sleep pod installations in our office. But, we do have a sunlit terrace where we bask in the afternoon sun with our coffee mugs - nothing to do with the Bombay winters, more to do with the powerful air conditioning.

The terrace is our favorite haunt but the pods would be lovely with a capital L. Our office needs these. In fact, they’ll be a big hit in India. Actually, given that a Metronaps co-founder happens to be of Indian origin, why is this business still out of India?

Either way, it’s amazing that someone is making money out of this. Metronaps has spread operations over three continents in just two years. So, these guys must be making a lot of money putting people to sleep during office hours.

Now, why didn't I think of this? And why didn’t I know of this when I used to be an incurable insomniac. Anyway, since my sleep scene has swiveled on its head, maybe I should get into the ‘Wake-up’ business. I could have a state-of-the-art Wake-up Pod designed and start a service for sleepy employees, late night flyers and who have you. Perhaps, I could nicely complement that with my own chain of ‘Afternoon Coffee Bars’. It’s one helluva business idea and nobody take it or I’ll sue you!

Well! Post-lunch is for day dreaming too. And that’s what I’m doing right now. Time to get back to work.

By the way, March 12 2007, the first Monday after the beginning of daylight savings time is this year's National Napping Day. The power nap is official now! Enjoy!

Ping pong, I say!!

‘Lasts long, very long, ding dong’ Before anyone gets too happy, boys and girls, I’m talking about my car battery and the ding dong thing, as I discovered this evening, is a hollow claim masquerading as a tagline. This profound revelation came upon me just when I was smelling good, feeling good and all dressed up to go see a particularly good looking guy. I gave myself an admiring glance in the rear view mirror and fired up the engine. Forget the fire, which is anyway not supposed to be there, there was no spark, which very much is. No sign of even a mild whimper. I promptly put my 12 years of breakdown experience to use. No good.

A frantic call to our trusted mechanic in a desperate voice yielded better results. He arrived in exactly six minutes and summarily informed me that the battery has stood me up.
Me: Woh to samajh me aya. Lekin kal to chal raha tha. (That I understood. But it was working fine yesterday.)
Mech: Lekin abhi to gaya na. Charge karne pe theek ho jaana chahiye. (But, it’s gone today. It should be fine if it’s charged again.)
Me: Suddenly, kaise hua? Char mahine ka naya battery hai. Warranty me hai. (How come it happened suddenly? The battery’s four months old. It’s under warranty.)
Mech (in a super cool voice): To phir woh log ko phone karo. Waise kuch faida nahi. (Then, you can call those guys. But it’s of no use.)

That was it. I really do trust this guy and for good reasons but his “no use, tch tch” was enough to make me go look for the battery service number. I quickly called the number only to be told it was not valid. Perhaps, that number was not accessible from mobile phones, which is funny because car batteries are put in cars and cars don’t have landlines. Cars are, by definition, mobile. Also, many like me don't own landlines these days. Anyway, no other numbers. So, I went home to look for other contact numbers online and called the Mumbai number to find out the nearest dealer or service centre – was put on hold for a long time, put back to the operator and finally to a guy who very unwillingly gave his name and identified himself as a marketing engineer. Telling him that I’ve been put on hold for too long sent him flying off the handle and what happened next should have been the subject matter of an email that I would have sent tomorrow morning. But there were no email ids on the website, no feedback forms whatsoever. There were fax numbers but who’s going to spend on outstation faxes to a company that doesn’t seem to be interested in providing post sales service. If they are, I’m not convinced. A company that wants to be accessible gives out numbers that can be contacted through GSM phones, email ids and local fax numbers; most importantly, it sets up effectively placed, visible post sales centres. I’ve never been a marketing and sales person but I do know that invisibility and sales don’t go together.

Anyway, I was downstairs again and the mechanic had a wicked glint in his eyes. "Madam, bola tha aapko..exide walon ko ye chalta nahin hai lekin aapko to samajhta nahi tha! Abhi dekh liya na. Bolo to main bana ke deta hai." (I told you exide users are not happy with this brand but you didn’t listen. Now you’ve seen it for yourself. If you say, I’ll get it done.) Well, the guy was right – I did have a drama free 12 years with exide – and he had warned me all right but he was looking at me indulgingly like you look at a pig-headed kid who knows she’s been proved wrong. He’s an aged guy, so I grinned politely. Inside, I was fantasizing about battering the battery office guy in different ways.

And, no I didn’t meet that hunk. Canceled the evening plans. Now, you don’t go jump into an auto rickshaw when you’re dressed to the nines, do you? Never mind that it’s a Monday evening. Getting a cab near my residence too would have been a little too lucky for a day like this. It was raining so heavily, you couldn’t hear your own voice.

That apart, the bright highlight of the evening was that the charmer wanted to drive down all the way to pick me up and he sounded sincere. Oh well, chivalry isn’t dead and that makes me happy but it would have been funny to have him drive two hours in these rains just to reach me. “Maybe this weekend we can both drive down and meet somewhere half-way,” I said in the sweetest voice. And, now I’m sitting here all dressed up, basking in long-distance, chivalrous attention and blogging away my evening.

Just another manic monday??!!

Kill the business of terrorism

I have every reason to believe that if any government wants to truly get rid of terrorism, it can. The question is does it? Not apparently. If it did, it would have cut off the blood supply that feeds terrorist outfits. It would have destroyed their financial nervous system. That is the only real way to go about it.

But it hasn’t. Why? It’s not as if the intelligence and the government are not aware of this financial network that feeds and breeds the terrorist outfits. It would be naïve, almost stupid to assume that a whole lot of money would change hands and the intelligence wouldn’t come to know of it, if it wanted to, that is. If they don’t, maybe they should ask the Americans, who I’m sure have long charted out the flow of terrorist money within India and to and from India. So, what’s keeping the intelligence and more importantly the government from attacking the nerve centre of terrorism?

Self-preservation? Utter chaos, perhaps? Chaos that would result from acknowledging that many of the nerves carrying this money do wind up into political coffers? I say acknowledging because the knowledge is already there. It just needs to be acknowledged and acted upon. But that is exactly the difficult part, isn’t it?

Here’s Gieve Patel’s poem that most of us must have read way back in school. An apt reminder now:

On Killing A Tree

It takes much time to kill a tree,
Not a simple jab of the knife
Will do it. It has grown
Slowly consuming the earth,
Rising out if it, feeding
Upon its crust, absorbing
Years of sunlight, air, water,
And out of its leprous hide
Sprouting leaves.
So hack and chop
But this alone won't do it.
Not so much pain will do it.
The bleeding bark will heal
And from close to the ground
Will rise curled green twigs,
Miniature boughs
Which if unchecked will expand again
To former size.
No,
The root is to be pulled out –
Out of the anchoring earth;
It is to be roped, tied,
And pulled out-snapped out
Or pulled out entirely,
Out from the earth-cave,
And the strength of the tree exposed,
The source, white and wet,
The most sensitive, hidden
For years inside the earth.
Then the matter
Of scorching and choking
In sun and air,
Browning, hardening,
Twisting, withering,
And then it is done.

Too much to handle

It’s been a sad day in Mumbai. There’s been a steady inflow of bad news since morning about friends, acquaintances and colleagues who died yesterday in the blasts or succumbed to serious injuries by this evening. Some are still critical; they and their families are fighting it out in the hospitals. Others have been crippled for life. Their faces keep looming in our heads. I’m loathe to think that some terrorists must be gloating over their ‘achievement’ even as these honest to god working people have suffered irrecoverably.

We The other People

I don’t live in Jammu & Kashmir. Not in the North-east either. For me, bomb blasts and terror threats are not a way of life.

I live in Mumbai, where incidents like last evening’s serial train blasts are sporadic, sudden shocks that jolt our collective consciousness only once in a while. Besides, the city is the business nerve centre of India and its resilience is outstanding. It recovers fast and builds back faster – not just the physical damage but the hope and the confidence as well. No bunch of godforsaken terrorists can change that.

So, Mumbai locals, the world’s most effectively managed commuter rails, are already back on track and people have gone back to work.

But, what about the reality that some others face every single day of their lives? For those in the North and North-east, there is no respite – they’ve been haunted day in, day out for decades. Unlike us, they don’t get a chance to recover from incessant terrorism. They’ve been crippled economically and emotionally all along and there’s no end to it in sight. How long can the human spirit stand against such continuous onslaught? And why should it? What cause, what reasons justify such heinous acts? NONE.

My heart goes out to those who suffered grave losses. But sympathy is a useless thing. It achieves nothing.

People who are caught in such situations may not have the strength or the resources to fight back. So, who keeps their fights going for them? The media does and NGOs do. But both can do only so much. At the end of the day, social and political inertia can bring the best of efforts to naught. It’s not like there are no solutions other than out and out war or submission. Terrorism and defence experts have offered strategies in the past, some of which were known in the public domain. But there’s very little awareness among the junta as to what is done about them. Some we know were not implemented for reasons of political inconvenience. There’s no point in mentioning them here – a news archive and discussion forum search can yield them.

What is more useful in this space is whether we are demanding a platform for those strategies in a proactive, sustained way or whether we’re getting too caught up in our own lives instead. Understandably, not all aspects of these solutions or strategies can be brought out on a public platform because of their sensitive nature. But that’s not required either. All we need is a stubborn insistence on a reasonable amount of transparency and sustained concrete action. We pay taxes, we give votes. So we have a right to demand action that is in our best interests. To do that, we have a very citizen friendly media and other means of communication – we have all the resources to ask compelling questions and seek definite answers. The only requirement is to demand consistently and persistently. That’s possibly the only way we as individuals can come together to exert concerted pressure on the political machinery.

So, if you’ve cared to read so far, I’ll leave you with a thought and a question: As far as terrorists are concerned, their cause gets weaker and weaker with every blow they strike. Their lives become more and more wasted with every spirit they try to break. But, how about us? Hollow jingoism doesn’t work. In an effort to get on with normalcy, will we forget the endless trauma and the personal tragedies of victims elsewhere, whose homes and happiness have been destroyed by jokers who think they can terrorise us into giving away our land and our people – that too after killing and crippling these very people for decades? Does it take too much effort to persistently voice your demand and not get satisfied by sub standard responses?

Rein in the rain, will ya?

Or maybe not! I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with the rains.

When we were in South Bombay, we used to celebrate the first rains of the season with a quick 5-minute drive to Marine Drive and getting showered on the promenade – more by the high, lashing ocean tides than the rain itself. The rains were much invited. Sometimes, mornings used to start with friends calling up excitedly: ‘Ok, if it rains in the evening today, do we go to Marine Drive, PDP or Breach Candy?’

Strolling by the sea, we used to soak in the rains till everyone looked unmistakably like raisins. Once convinced that our skins couldn’t possibly shrivel any more, hungry tummies used to head for the nearest hangout – Bachelors or more often Pizza Corner/Hut(?) turned Jazz By The Bay turned Not Just Jazz By The Bay... That place had a new name every now and then! At Breach Candy, we used to queue up greedily for sandwiches at Right Place or sometimes just plop in a corner at the spartan looking Croissant. The ice-cream outside Amarsons Park was a must try – it’s a sure shot cure for sore monsoon throat, I swear ;)

Late night showers were exquisite – the gentle, breezy ones. We used to sit by the window, taking in the fragrance of wet earth, talking and singing. Mom used to sing old hindi film songs with a twinkle in her eye – all the songs, one by one, that used to play on the golden gramophone in her father’s house when she was a kid. I often wondered why she would get so emotional about a gramophone! At times, while singing, we would stop and wonder what the family on the pavement outside must be doing. We’d then leave it at that – rains or no rains, life went on for us and for them too.

Rains were simple and beautiful.

Once we shifted to the suburbs, the rains turned into one dreaded monster, at least initially when the roads were not as good. We used to joke about it: You sprinkle some water and the roads will get waterlogged, the drain covers will come undone and whatnot! Also, in the very first monsoons after we shifted, one thing was very clear. I didn’t need Kung Fu classes!

The rains, in a joint venture with the trains, give you all the fighting skills you’ll ever need! Plus, 90 percent of the people would stand in space meant for half of them just because the seats were all rained in. So far, I had only heard and read horror stories about the great Mumbai locals – the great leveller, as they’re aptly called – now I experienced it first hand, that too in a rain-train deadly combo. And, did it level me out of my love for Bombay!!

Then, one day I did a smart thing. To beat the rains and the trains at their own game, I took a cab to my work place in South Bombay. Now, I’m not going to describe what it’s like to travel two hours in a non-airconditioned cab with panes shut tight and traffic moving an inch at a time! Oh, and I paid some 3-400 in cab fare. Next day, I was back in the locals.

Then there were times when I used to rush out for important meetings, praying it wouldn’t rain till I got there. But it most definitely would, especially if I’d forgotten to carry my windcheater – only to drench me completely for two minutes and then be dry as drought once it was done with me. Sometimes, it rained just to make me miserable! We started our next suburban monsoon with Prithvi at Juhu where there’s not much scope for frolicking like a li’l kid and the LandsEnd coffee shop where you can see palm trees swaying and terrace plants almost dancing in the rain. The catch is you can see the sea-breeze and not feel it! Boring.

But, things eventually settled down into a much more pleasant phase. The roads were transformed, happening hangouts opened shop and the area took on a hip, rockstar avatar. It was better than the relatively staid and sleepy south Bombay. Lounges sprouted everywhere and some were really good but most had nothing exciting to offer during the rains. Some had rain parties but that stuff was indoors and it can be done in any season.

The real rainy-season fun started when we started exploring hangouts at Bandstand. There are places at Bandstand where you can chill out in the rain, sipping your coffee or just grab a take away and head for the rocks. Of course, your coffee doubles in volume by the time you get half way to the rocks. But, like they say: rain water is healthy water – Enjoy!

I have to say this: people in Bombay really know how to enjoy the showers. Go to marine drive or bandstand in the rains – it looks like there’s a youth festival going on and everyone’s participating. The seaside cafes are usually packed with a young, colorful crowd at all times of the day.

More recently, work got the better of both the rains, trains and in some cases, even my brains. The first two became more of hurdle rods in an effort to reach work in one piece and the last one simply got washed away, it seems ;) Who knows, who cares! As long as last year’s rainy nightmare is not repeated, the rains are going to be as desirable as always.

And now that the rains are back in full force, I’m ready for my annual dose of ‘raisining in the rain’.

Optimistically yours!

While Bill Gates gets busy spending Warren Buffet’s generous $1.5 billion donation within one year as stipulated by terms of donation, it’s time for the ‘Bill Gates is sharing his fortune’ chain letters to return with a vengeance.

This mail’s been doing the rounds since long and has come to me about a dozen times now. It’s not malicious like the google mail – just plain funny, unless someone gave out their bank account details or credit card number to receive Bill Gates’ money. Here goes...

Dear Friends,Please do not take this for a junk letter. Bill Gates is sharing his fortune. If you ignore this you will repent later. Microsoft and AOL are now the largest Internet companies and in an effort to make sure that Internet Explorer remains the most widely used program, Microsoft and AOL are running an e-mail beta test.When you forward this e-mail to friends, Microsoft can and will track it (if you are a Microsoft Windows user) for a two week time period.For every person that you forward this e-mail to, Microsoft will pay you $245.00, for every person that you sent it to that forwards it on, Microsoft will pay you $243.00 and for every third person that receives it, you will be paid $241.00. Within two weeks, Microsoft will contact you for your address and then send you a cheque.Regards.Charles S. BaileyGeneral Manager Field Operations1-800-842-2332 Ext. 1085 or 904-245-1085 or RNX 292-1085

Hahahahahhahaaaaaa. It even gives contact details. Guuufffffaaaawwwww!!!
Consider this: the above proposition is an impossibility for two reasons:

1. If Bill Gates was this stupid, he wouldn't be what he is.
2. Read the stories below and see what similarity it bears to the chain letter.

There is a well-known story of the man who invented chess. The local ruler was so pleased with the invention that he offered the inventor a great reward in gold. The inventor suggested an alternative reward: he would get one grain of wheat on the first square of the chess board, two grains on the second square, four on the third, eight on the fourth, etc., doubling the number of grains each time. The ruler saw that this must be a much better deal for him, and accepted. The board has 64 squares. How many total grains of wheat did the ruler have to pay the inventor?
Answer: The number of grains on the 64th square is 2^63 (2 to the 63rd power). The total number of grains on the board is 2^64-1. These facts can be easily deduced by considering just the first few squares, and generalizing your findings. A proof can be done using mathematical induction, or geometric series, or binary arithmetic. 2^64-1=18,446,744,073,709,551,615. That happens to be much more wheat than exists in the whole world. In fact, that amount of wheat would probably just fit in a building 25 miles long, 25 miles wide, and 1000 feet tall.

A similar puzzle: Take one sheet out of your newspaper, and fold it in half, then fold it in half again, and again, and again. Can you fold it 30 times? Pretending that you can (you probably can't fold it more than eight times), how thick would it be after 30 times? Assume the paper is 1/500" thick or 1/200 cm. thick.
Answer: The newspaper, folded 30 times is about 34 mi. (54 km.) thick. A few more folds and you could reach the moon!

Google's gonna get you?!!

Got this email recently. Here’s an extract:

--
I have decided to stop using gmail, because I fear google's collection of data pertaining to my internet use. Over a period of many years this data could help them build a pretty accurate profile of me. Sure, they would not misuse it, but what if it fell into the wrong hands?If information is power, then should we let google have so much power over us? Already it is marching towards monopoly of web search. We should be cautious about our personal data.Regards,
--
It further asks you to forward the mail to 'as many people as possible' to apparently save them from some corporate conspiracy like situation! Considering that the email was sent to many in my email group, each of who decided to send it to all the others again, I guess a lot of people fell for this one. But hey, do pause and think before you forward such ranting mails that pretend to be in your best interests..

Firstly, by the above logic, the hallowed Mr Bill Gates already has all the information he wants about you. Adding Larry Page and Sergey Brin to ‘people who know you’ list shouldn’t really change anything drastically enough to make you this paranoid.

And, if you really want a tentative list of ‘people who know you’, I’ll happily provide it:

Your bank/credit card company knows what you bought when and from which shop at exactly what time of the day or night. You are traceable with respect to date, time, place, shopping preferences, and if you make more than one purchase at two shops in the same mall, they also know your movements within the mall.

Your telecom provider not only knows when and where you were at any given point of time, it also knows if you were talking to someone or not and if yes, who and for what length of time. If they are really that interested in you, in the snap of a finger, they’ll know exactly what you’re talking about and your GPRS, Bluetooth etc. give them more information than you think. Not to mention that with all new phones having usb ports and comps with media card readers, half your life is out there, baby!!

If you use cable internet, your cable wallah can get much more information about you than any one else, including you, your parents and your spouse. You’re on a LAN remember. All that bull about dedicated line is just that – bull!

That’s not all. Your employer knows helluvalot and don’t underestimate your grocers. God knows what your doctor knows! And the list goes on and on and on and the number of people who ‘know you’ are just increasing by the day.

Afterthought: Have to mention the tax guys here – they have woken up and they’ll get you – or at least that’s what they want you to believe. So, they’ve computerized the tax department. They put out threatening ads in papers and television saying they’re going to get you. Hahahahahaa!!! lol n rotg. Here’s the deal: My tax returns for AY 2005-06 have not yet been processed. why? because the department is being computerized. Kewl, suits me ;) Cuz, they had the same excuse last AY too!!! So, chillax everyone. No matter who gets you, your tax guys won’t.

On a serious afterthought: Don’t mean to dismiss the issue. I know google and other companies know too much + all that information is extremely vulnerable, but till some techie minds figure out how to tackle a lurking crisis, sit back and enjoy the technology. It's free for now.

More of Silver Jubilee

I forgot to mention the flag march by nations (you see this kind of stuff only in Olympics), the symphony by 3800 musicians including big league maestros who played every evening of the three-day celebrations, and the multi-cultural revue performed by artists from all continents. Very, very impressive! Mesmerizing! Once in a lifetime experience!

Coming up: Exams!!

Exactly two months away
Hey Mr Examination
Over my mind you hold sway

I'm rummaging around for my books
Aah there! I found them
They sure gimme the spooks

They have an attitude, I tell ya
Hey Mr Examination
Get rid of the smirk, will ya?

I've ignored them too long
They’re letting me know that
Their attitude’s getting strong

Why didn’t I study in advance?
Hey Mr Examination
Was working – juggling both is not exactly a dance

I have this weird feeling
These books have gained weight
Oh and now my head is reeling

If I tell ya what I’ll study
Hey Mr Examination
Could you ask me just that? I’ll make you my buddy :)

Yours truly,

Art of Living Silver Jubilee

I lived a lifetime in Bangalore when I went to the Art of Living international ashram for the advanced course in January. Never wanted to come back but I did. Never thought I’ll go back for the silver jubilee celebrations within a month. But there I was! So, here goes...

Reached Bangalore on 15th, looked left nor right, just rushed to the prepaid taxi counter and eagerly bought a ticket for Rs 235. More about that later. Emerged jubilant from a longish, slow-moving queue to see the Art of Living desk right behind me and, of course, the volunteers asked me earnestly, “Didi, why did you buy a ticket? Give us an opportunity to serve you.” They informed me that they had arranged for cabs/shuttles to my hotel. I tried to look intelligent and showed them my prepaid cab ticket. Got a beautiful welcome befitting a pilgrimage…they put chandan tilak on my forehead and showered me with flowers :)

On 16th afternoon, haggled 45 minutes in the sun for cab fare and landed at the AoL ashram in 30 minutes flat for the satsang. Sang and clapped with all my energy. It was awesome – as always.

The next day, we started early for the Ganpati Homa, haggled again indefinitely and managed to reach Jakkur Airfield from somewhere near Mallya Hospital in less than half an hour.

The Bangalore traffic police really, really deserve a standing ovation. Two and a half million people and no traffic jams whatsoever, whensoever. If they all get transferred to Bombay for at least one year, this city will change its definition of heavy traffic! Then again, that’s not a fair comment because Bombay is a traffic nightmare at any given time of the day and on weekends even at 3 am. And, if a couple of millions land here for 3 days, nobody will move an inch anywhere! The city is saturated beyond all bardasht.

Another one for the volunteers. Teeming enthusiastic millions and no stampede, no injuries, no damage whatsoever, and almost no police – in fact, the uniforms were all huddled in different places with nothing to do!! The only time their faces sparkled was during the satsang and the programs. It were the volunteers who handled everything – from VIP security to the chair arrangements. Hats off to you guys. You have the blessings of God, Guruji and millions of people for whom you made life so easy before, during and after the silver jubilee.

Of course, on 17th chaos reigned. For the morning puja, we were clutching our VIP passes and begging for a side entry but the volunteers were unrelenting. Everyone was equal in the face of sweat, dust and grime. Mom is a strong woman. She gave me one look and I gave up my brattishness in an instant. Now, I have the confidence and the capability of barging into a Virar fast Mumbai local – I hope I never have to do that though ;) For the evening celebrations too, VIP passes proved pretty useless but we got seats right in front of the screen. So, we were like happy puppies – clapping, swaying, hooting, howling and jumping.

The next two days were totally awesome: we had no clue about the hierarchy of pass colours until we realized that people with light purple passes were being given the best seats. And, God bless the soul who got us those passes. (Seema, you’ve been a godsend every time we’ve met) Guruji somehow takes care of us all in his own way.

So, thanks to Seema, mom and I were right up there in the first 10 rows close to the stage and close enough to the right screen :) We had a nice view of everything we wanted to see and since four people were allowed on one pass, we took along two 'perfect strangers' on our passes. Now we’re friends and well wishers!

Saw VIPs relinquishing their comfy seats, crossing over the enclosures and sitting on the carpet right in front! Also, some of the international delegates were sitting with us instead of the adjacent area marked for them. Some people with the same passes as ours had to sit further off because they came later - by 4 pm, the VIP enclosure was packed and brimming over. To secure good seats on the 19th, we reached Jakkur at 3 pm and got nicely baked in the sun ;)

On 17th we turned pink, on 18th brown and by 19th, we were blackish brown. On other days, from 15th till last night, we've been shuttling from the city to the ashram. The cabbies looted us big time, our heels are cracked and sore, and our complexions are a non-descript shade of darkness!! Our souls are glowing :)

Have to admit this: during the mahakriya, I opened my eyes to see the screen - saw Guruji doing Bhastrika and a sea of people doing Bhastrika in completely synchronized movements. The synergy was tremendous. Cannot cannot cannot describe it!!!!! The image of millions doing Bhastrika in tandem is imprinted on my mind forever. You have to see it and feel it to believe it.

Some of the speeches were scintillating, especially by President APJ Abdul Kalam, some dignitaries from Pakistan and some of the religious leaders and even some of the politicians. But, there were so many presidents, prime ministers, kings, dignitaries, religious leaders. Uffff!!!! Some others were so boring that people used to get up and go. We were begging them to take the boring ones away with them ;)

After the events at Jakkur were over, we went to the ashram the day after. Guruji waved to us from a red chopper while coming back from somewhere while we were resting in Sumeru Mantap after lunch. In the satsang, Guruji regaled us with funny accounts of utter chaos before and during the SJ. He was chuckling and rolling back with laughter after telling every anecdote and we were all in splits. Just the way he said it sent us all in raptures. If you were not there, here are some snippets:

"Politicians wanted to talk! In the last 2-3 days, we have heard enough politicians for the next 25 years.

Volunteer committee heads were telling me how they managed the egos of all the dignitaries. They had to bring together three most egoistic people – religious leaders, artists and politicians – and then pacify them and keep them pacified! If we put all these incidents in a book, it’ll be such fun to read!!

Everything was so utterly chaotic till the last moment. The stage was not ready the day before the event. Hans said, if this happened in Germany, we would have cancelled the event! When the domes arrived, the stage planners said this will fly away. It weighed 150 kg each! So I said, ok I’ll sit on it, it won’t fly away. Finally, a hole was made on the inside of the dome so that air could pass through and keep the 150 kg dome from flying away!!!!! And how happy everyone is despite the chaos!

A large part of the schedule was hanging because Bill Clinton didn’t confirm till the last moment that he’ll come or not. Kept dilly-dallying, finally confirmed and then never showed up! So that was Bill Clinton’s story.

Where we had arranged for 10 people, 40 came! Some people were staying in camping tents on roofs and in the lawns and classrooms. And there were 3 and 4 star rooms booked for VIPs who never showed up! There were empty rooms!"

I usually give my 100% in satsangs – but missed singing on the last day there -- too much sun followed by chilling nights in the open got the better of my immunity. Can barely speak without coughing but what an astounding experience! It’s a good thing I’m writing this.

Last night, I realized that the hotel-airport auto rikshaw fare is about Rs 50. Mid flight, I nearly choked blue in a coughing fit and an angel offered me all the candies from his pack to soothe my sore throat. Had a good dinner, watched TV and kept hovering over Bombay for half an hour because we didn’t get landing clearance – good!!! I always take the night flight jus to look at Bombay in the night - beautiful. Reached home just before midnight and have been smiling to myself since then!

All of you too: keep smiling :-)