The Breeze

The swishing fresh breeze
Gallivanting in and out of the room
Blowing up the curtains,
Seeking free any stale feel
Cheering up the wind chimes
In the dark moonless night
Then softly rushing in
Blanketing all dreams in sight
Enveloped in her mirth
Dancing till the sun makes its climb
Caressing all on its way
A tendril, a book or grime
Stirring up birds from sleep
Laughing at their helplessness
As if the cloak of the night
Grants her, her boisterousness
Twirling like a ballerina
With few hours at hand
Sliding through every crevice
Before dawn makes her bid farewell

Book Review: The Husband's Secret

The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarty
My rating: 4 of 5 stars



Witty. Simple. Engrossing. Set in Australia, the story takes you through an intense ride of emotions such as fear, anxiety, happiness, respite, and hope. Liane Moriarty (A die-heart Sherlock Holmes (Cumberbatch) fan, I was attracted to her surname more than the book title at first)has deftly wrapped life stories of three women, remotely related to each other, through a single life changing incident. Rachel Crowley, a part time secretary at St. Angela's Primary School, has sufferred the loss of her daughter 30 years ago. The case is closed due to lack of evidence. But she knows the killer. Will she ever be able to get the murderer jailed? Or is it that she has got it all wrong? Cecilia Fitzpatrick is enjoying her perfect life with three beautiful daughters and a husband. Then one day she comes across a sealed envelope that is addressed to her to be opened in the event of her husband’s death. Written in her husband's writing, the letter holds a secret that if spilled will whirl their life out of control. What will she do then? Tess O'leary runs an ad agency in Melbourne with her husband Will and cousin Felicity. A successful professional, Tess had never imagined a better life, untill Will and Felicity declare their love for each other. Shattered to pieces, Tess has her son Liam to take care of. But how can she continue working in the same office with her husband? What next? The stories cascade and the mystery unfolds leaving the reader wondering with a 'what if?' It's un-putdownable.

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Book Review - Kaneko's Story

Kaneko's Story: A Conversation with Kaneko Ikeda by Soka Gakkai
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Life of Mrs. Ikeda started at a simple household with traditional Japanese values. The book is a peek into her life as a child who was brought up in war torn Japan (World War 2), the values that she imbibed and passed on to her children,and a woman who supported her family and husband against all odds and stood as a boulder against life's uncertainties and challenges.
She is a living example of how one can accumulate good fortune though all circumstances and be the silent powerhouse that fuels one's own ambitions and provide strength to every one around.
her experiences are life enriching lessons that everyone can adopt.
A great read.


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Book Review - Chanakya's Chant

Chanakya's Chant by Ashwin Sanghi

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Blood, lust and deceit – Chanakya’s Chant overwhelms the reader with the shrewd manipulations of the political world. A pacy and well researched plot, it makes you marvel at the mind of history’s most revered teacher – Chanakya - a kingmaker, a shrewd politician and the father of ‘Arthashastra’.
Ashwin Sanghi has worked intelligently in choosing this topic and weaving a story around it. His detailed research and usage of quotes from famous people, movies and books have added the necessary punch in the dialogues through the plot.
The premise of the story is how politics and human nature has remained unaffected by years of evolution and how the rules to rule people, that were established by Chanakya 2300 years ago, are still applicable. Sanghi builds a chronology of events in the life of Chanakya – murder of his father by a ruthless king of Magadha, his vow to avenge his murder, and his thirst for producing a king who would unite the entire Bharat as one kingdom. This plot is mapped with the life of his fictional character Pandit Gangasagar Mishra who determines to gain enough power enabling him to decide who the Prime Minister of India would be. While Chanakya mentors Chandragupta, Gangasagar prepares Chandani, while Chanakya convinces Ambhi’s commander-in-chief to train Chandragupta, Gangasagar asks Ikram bhai to adopt Chandini, while Chanakya makes people believe Chandragupta was a ruler chosen by God, Gangasagar gets Chandani shot harmlessly to make Indians believe that she was the daughter of the country. A mesh of strategy of the mind, body and soul – the story uncovers the raw side of every human emotion.


For the author – The writing style is similar to the likes of Sidney Sheldon that makes it racy and akin to a movie. Toward the end it gets a little drag. While reading it does seem that Sanghi is biased towards his female characters to be fair skinned, with auburn hair and green eyes (description of Vishaka – the vishkanya or even Chandini - the future leader). The usage of famous quotes adds punch to his story as mentioned earlier but takes away a bit of credibility from his writing skills. Personally, having read ‘Jwalamukhi Ke Phool’, Chanakya’s Chant looks like a poor cousin.

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Sleepy Eyes....

I pry them open
Yet they dance
I bathe them in water
Yet they slouch at every chance

I engage them with colours
And words and tricks
They seem interested
Only with subconscious pics

I tell them to open up
They smile and twitch
I try telling them stories
They rely on what they sketch

All day they keep me busy
Either hiding from dreams or reality
And at night when I tell them to sleep
They turn stubborn and make things blurry

And the magician sleeps...

I got a call from my mother around noon. “Michael Jackson’s no more” she said in a sad tone. The tragic news of MJ’s passing away had been covered by all news channels but a call from a fifty something, with least interest in English music, forget pop, expressing her sadness over the phone, I think that speaks volumes of what a legend Michael Jackson was. Unknowingly he had touched the right chord in every ones heart, whatever with the scandals and controversies that surrounded the later years of his life.
As I write this there are over 18 thousand tributes that have already been paid to the legend on Facebook. And I don’t feel like writing anymore.

Forget about the silver lining, still looking for dark clouds....

“Rain in Mumbai: Thirsting for more
Delayed rains, farmers’ nightmare
Andhra farmers worried over delayed rain…” so run the headlines across all dailies and news portals.
Its 25th June and the rains failed the forecast of the met department. Though it rained in few pockets in Mumbai the city faces a grim future if the monsoon does not catch on within two weeks. Heat waves scorch the north and central parts with temperatures soaring above 40 degrees. Roads have scattered traffic through the day with people looking for respite in enclosed spaces and AC consumption is on an all time high. No dark cloud, forget looking for any silver lining.
June has been a cruel month for the farmers and July is awaited with prayers on their lips.
Madhya Pradesh, the state producing 55% of the country’s edible oils still awaits monsoons, whereas by July beginning the sowing of seeds is already done. Delay in monsoons mean a drastic fall in food grain production and with the dried out tube wells and bore wells the anxiety levels for all farmers is very high. With all valuables pledged for money to buy seeds, the rain failure not only indebts them but also bring them to the brink with no food or money to sustain life.
As per NDTV report, the rain failure in the Krishna belt causes loss of 40,000 tonnes of food grain. In Telangana region the cotton crop is still to be sown and Andhra Pradesh counts days to water the fields to be readied for like paddy, cotton, maize and groundnut.
Government officials have predicted 81% of avg rainfall in the northwestern region of India and over all a 93% shortage. There is hope for a monsoon revival but the clouds seem very elusive. The rains, which should have covered most parts of the country by now, have stopped their movement ahead. The worry is that sixty per cent of the crops are rain fed and the government is drawing up contingency plans to counter the situation.
Rain failure would also put the newly elected government’s promise for providing food to all. Let’s see when it rains. Whenever, it does, should rain cats and dogs!

Heart "brakes" !!

“There’s no doubt about it; this is a country that breaks your heart in a new way every day, fractures you in ways that you didn’t even realize you could be broken.”
Sanjeev Bhaskar, in his book- India.

It was nine thirty at night as I made way through the massive crowd of passengers walking towards their respective destinations. My train was scheduled for a ten thirty departure. Wondering how to spend an hour waiting in one of the busiest railway stations of India- the old Delhi railway station, I some how managed to climb down the stairs of platform No.9 without being washed down by the surge. All I could see was a sea of human heads. A sudden transformation as it was for me (for I was used to catching trains from Hazrat Nizzamuddin, which happens to be one tenth as crowded as Old Delhi) I battled to stay unnerved and found a small place to keep my bag. Eyes wide open with the new experience I soaked in all that I could see. Eyes looked at me as if I was an alien. My capris seemed to be out of place because women were either wearing sarees, suits or jeans which covered their entire body. I instead had a bit of flesh on display.
It was a different world on its own. Women sitting on their luggage with the platform chairs fully occupied, children walking barefoot to the vendor for comics, fathers filling up bottles with water from the taps. Some families eating dinner while some sleeping on the platform waiting for the train that takes them home.
Suddenly I felt a gaping rift between me and the people there. How without knowing, I had found my own niche environment where in I lived and worked. How my necessities were different from them. How my wants and demands were starkly different from most of the people present there. Not that I don’t know that a large part of India still struggles to manage three meals a day, but that the reality would slap me hard in such a way- frankly, I wasn’t prepared.
I had recently been too used to AC cabs and AC train coaches and clean environment that some where my mind had stopped remembering the less privileged. Yes, I think I am extremely lucky to have been born in a family where we were taught to work hard and endure hardships. Yes, there was hard work involved in whatever I have achieved in my life so far. But there was a cushion of my family’s support always around me, in what ever I did. Many don’t have that. And this sight was an example. That a father and a son would look at the same piece of bread with same hunger, that a brother would fight with his sibling to get a biscuit crumb, that a five year old would carry a five month old around begging for alms (not a rare sight) would pummel my heart and jolt me so strong- I was not prepared.
The most heart rending experience of the day was a small impoverished family of seven that almost brought me close to tears. The pics below were taken from my phone camera and hence are slightly blurred.



This family of seven lay on the platform. Two mothers with their respective children a grandmother and a young male member. One mother had three children, two 6-7 year old boys and an infant may be 6 months old. All of them lay on the bare rugged, dusty floor. Dirty feet, cracked heels, dried and worn out skin.
It was the infant that caught my attention. In his sleep he had moved a little away from his mother. A piece of cloth was collected and placed under him while a small handkerchief was used to cover his naked body. Small hands with clenched fists, rested parallel to his head (the way all children sleep). Legs still slightly folded reminding of his body position when inside the womb. The day was cooler with gentle breeze making its way across the platform. Every time the breeze blew, a small smile would cross his lips and he would take a deep breath of satisfaction. His tiny fingers would open ever so lightly and then fold back again. The smile would persist for some time before fading away into the serene expression of his face.
Sometimes a wheel cart carrying luggage would move across, just too close to his feet and my heart would jump up half expecting a mishap. Some times the shrill whistle of the engine would ruffle him up a bit. But the breeze brought him smile just the same. He had no crib, no baby cushions, no mosquito nets around him. No air conditioners and different creams and lotions. He might not even have had the basic vaccines necessary for his life, yet he slept peacefully, smiling with every gentle stroke of the wind. He had no questions, no anger, no resentment not even a want of MORE. Yet for him that moment was the moment of bliss where he slept close to his mother yet around danger.
I could not look at him long. I could not gather so much courage. People walking by would look at him. Walk away. Mothers even told their kids to look at the way the infant was sleeping. A feeling of pity was their in everyone’s heart but nothing more.
Life in itself is an experience. And some incidents suddenly make you aware of the fact that you are one of the blessed ones who have what most people can only dream of. That the want of getting more and doing more will persist till you die, but one should even find little joys with what you have. That life gives you the “present” to enjoy. And while you jostle up with the worries of future you would end up losing your present.
That baby taught me the joy of the present. It was the cool breeze and sleep that he was enjoying at the moment. And he was happy for that moment.
Soon my train came chugging along and I made my way to the compartment, half praying that the family gets to eat the biscuit packs I left near them when they get up and half praying for the life gifted to me.

A bunch of twenty

Twenty for a bunch
Neither more nor less
Dangling thin arms
Where the bouquet rests

Bare feet on the roads
Skin scorched under sunrays
Dry lips, moist eyes - he hounds
Every single car on the way

Knocking on windows
Gestures shining out the need
Careless wave of a hand from the other side
Shining of the diamonds and beads

Eyes searching for that single soul
Who would buy his flowers away
Tomorrow is still to come
If only “today” could pass the day

Signals move the traffic
For him - also his life
Every single stop that the traffic makes
Are flickers of hope ripe

Awaiting the next lot to stop
That a red signal brings him some green
Been two days since the little one
Had some rice and water clean


Every day as I go about carrying out the everyday rituals of my life, I come across these cherubians on the roads, selling small bunches of flowers. Nice fresh flowers, wrapped in a thin cellophane paper. Not very intricately designed, but a bunch of joy none the less. They are red and orange and white or a milange. Everyday a new shade. But the only shade that remains unchanged across all days is the shade of struggle and misery in those innocent eyes.I buy a bunch when ever I get a chance. Not necesarrily will that note bring a massive change in that little one's life. But yes, it does give me a reason to smile when I see it reflect in his happy eyes. That can be called my selfish motive. Humans are selfish. Aren't they?

Time to be a child again...

123.. 567
123.. 567
That’s what I chime every weekend after my salsa class. The happiest moment of the week when the twirls and turns and cross body steps energize me and fill my heart with satisfaction. Yes I did something different from every day routine and yes I feel happy.

Specially, for the employed junta everywhere around the world, 5-6 days of the week to office and back envelop their lives and suddenly there is no time for oneself. Hence it becomes necessary to find a way out to release tension and give in to the activities you enjoy. Go dance, practice music or play squash. Release that extra tension and attain a sense of relief and happiness at the end of the session. Monday mornings would be less dreaded and you will be back at work with a vengeance.

Not only personal but also your professional life will improve with this simple step. You will feel happy and a similar feeling will be reciprocated from colleagues around you. Remember the lady in the office who is adored by almost every one? What does she do? Spread mirth and happiness? What’s stopping you? Go ahead and smile with that inner happier self. Those who find it difficult to start a topic or socialize with people will definitely get a new topic of discussion. Talk about the weekend and you would be surprised to see how differently people look at you. Common comments would be “hey I didn’t know you were such a multitalented person?”, or “Hey I want to join swimming too, can you pls tell me the address to the place? May be we can go there together?” Bingo you have a companion!

It’s easy to sit and think you have nothing to do in your life. Or you don’t have the time. The question is how inclined are you to go fetch time for yourself? Many of us want to go back to the school days when we waited for summer vacations to begin. Playing the chase game with cousins, eating juicy mangoes stolen from the neighbour’s orchard, or simply cuddling together listening to granny’s stories. Now we don’t have the luxury of it all, but starting all over again with your hobby will not only bring back the good times but will transcend you to the childhood days, when you learnt and faltered, were scolded and loved.

Believe me its fun being a child again!

A Wednesday !

A blow by blow account of the terrorist attack.



Of what recently came to be known as India’s 9/11 had its roots in Pakistan, as reported by the officials. Kasab- the only terrorist in custody admits that he hails from Pakistan and was the one who killed Anti-Terrorism Squad (ATS) chief Hemant Karkare, encounter specialist Vijay Salaskar and Additional Commissioner of Police Ashok Kamte. As per official news, all the terrorists were trained by ex- army officials for over a year and this was their “internship task.” Currently Kasab is under custody and following is the account of how the terror account unfolded.

Ten terrorists (there is a possibility of more) started their killer journey from Karachi via sea route. As they entered the Indian seas they hijacked an Indian fishing trawler and later used a rubber dinghy to walk up the shore and enter Bombay through the Gateway of India. At Gateway of India the 10 terrorists split in five groups of 2 each. Each terrorist carried Rs. 6,200 in cash. Each group had 1 bomb each. That equals five bombs. Two of these bombs were planted in 2 cars outside Taj and Oberoi.

One of the group headed towards The Taj, one towards CST, one towards Café Leopold, one towards the Oberoi Hotel and one towards Nariman house.

Wednesday, 26th Nov, 2008. 21:30 hrs
Café Leopold. Colaba. South Mumbai.

It is life as usual. Someone laughing, someone waiting for their order. The waiters making the rounds. Business is in full swing. Its dinner time.
Bang! Enter two militants brandishing machine guns and in no time they start firing all around indiscriminately. Cries, chaos, disaster. Someone ducks below the tables, someone falls. Those who run outside are gunned down too. Terrorists move towards the Taj. The terror journey begins.


Wednesday, 26th Nov, 2008. 21:30 hrs
Nariman House. Jeweish Centre. Colaba. South Mumbai.

The Holtzbergs are hosting dinner for five ultra- orthodox Jewish travelers this fateful night. Kocher meal and bed for the night has been offered to the guests. While Rabbi Gavriel Holtzberg and his wife Rivka play hosts, nanny Sandra runs after the two year old Moshe.
In no time the Jew family and there guests are stunned to see at least two men storm in fraying bullets in all directions. All are taken hostage. The rabbi makes calls to the Israeli Consulate but not much help comes to rescue.
As the time passes the situation turns grimmer and un-controllable. Sandra Samuel, the nanny of Moshe hides in one of the rooms. Later next day, on hearing Moshe calling out her name, she will rush her way out with the baby in her arms but his parents dead.


Wednesday, 26th Nov, 2008. 21:55 hrs
CST. South Mumbai.

Fathers returning from office. Mothers carrying children back home. One year old Viraj with his parents and elder sister walking on the platform. Its rush hour.
The routine hustle is shattered as Kasab and Abu Dera Ismail Khan open fire. Sudden outbreak. Some people rushing back in the train compartments, few running away towards Platform1 (in the opposite direction). Vendors finding refuge behind their counters. Some one is seen pulling out an injured lady amongst the dead and in a second he’s down in a pool of blood. It’s as if you are watching “Saving Private Ryan” live. Soon RPF policemen and the ticket collector fall prey. 55 more lives lost.
Minutes after the attack- shattering silence, which is broken by sobs and cries of the one year old Viraj and many like him who look around shaken and scared. Crying out for their parents. Crying out for help. Crying out to save them. Crying out in pain.
By then its time for Kasab and Ismail to create havoc in the Cama Hospital. By10 pm ATS chief Hemant Karkare reaches CST.


Wednesday, 26th Nov, 2008. 22:00 hrs
The Taj Mahal Hotel. Gateway of India. South Mumbai.

Bertie Gomes , the senior most bartender and the man behind the famous Harbour bar was attending to his guests. With the wedding season on, revelry was at its peak.
Shooters from Café Leopold arrive at the Taj and are joined by two others who make their way into the hotel through a side entry. This is the beginning of a 60 hr battle in aamchi Mumbai.


Wednesday, 26th Nov, 2008. 22:15 hrs
Hotel Trident- Oberoi. Nariman Point. South Mumbai.

The staff scurrying in the lobby greeting the guests with a wide warm smile. Need to be efficient and perfect. Guests being shown the way to the main hall, some being guided to their suites. Its season time and there is no margin for error.
As if the time stood still as the two figures marched in, whipped out machine guns and opened fire. Instantly the staff members are gunned down while the guests are ushered in by the rest of the staff members without any warm smile but with an effort of responsibility and valour. Putting their lives at stake. Executive manager, Mr. Paramjit Singh who had gone out for a smoke hears gun shot and rushes in to make sure the guests are at harms bay. Sanju Soni, the restaurant manager shuts the doors and asks the guests to stay calm.
Two loud explosions follow in the next half an hour and with that starts the 2 day siege of the Trident- Oberoi.

Wednesday, 26th Nov, 2008. 22:40 hrs
Cama Hospital.

After indiscriminate firing across railway platform and roads the militants reach Cama Hospital where they try and enter the maternity wards. The women inside together with few men latch the doors and prevent the terrorists from entering.
In the meantime the police gets news on the bomb blasts in Vile Parle and Dockyard Road Station. The bombs were planted in taxis.
By 11 pm, Anti-Terrorism Squad (ATS) chief Hemant Karkare, encounter specialist Vijay Salaskar and Additional Commissioner of Police Ashok Kamte reach the hospital and lose their lives to the bullets of the terrorists. They grab the police vehicle and make their way to Vidhan Bhavan shooting as they pass the Metro Cinema junction and killing few bystanders and a policeman. Near Vidhan Bhavan the police vehicle suffers a flat tyre and the terrorists hijack a skoda at gunpoint . At Girgaum Chowpatty they are intercepted by the police while negotiating a U- turn. It is at this moment, that the brave inspector, Omble grabs Kasab’s gun barrel and refuses to let him go. Kasab continues firing but Omble holds on and takes all the bullets. Other policemen overpower Kasab and he’s immediately arrested.

Whole Wednesday night the gun-battle between forces and terrorists continue. By this time the Marine Commandos, NSG Officers and Rapid Action force have been called to action.
Whole of Thursday, 27th Nov, 2008 passes by with forces trying to pull out a plan to rescue hostages and gun down the terrorists. In the Taj and Trident the staff continues to usher guests to the safest of places. Banja, the chef makes sandwiches for guests to calm them down. Hospitality, responsibility and humanity at its best.


Friday, 28th Nov, 2008.
Nariman House. Jeweish Centre. Colaba. South Mumbai.

NSG commandos land on the roof tops of Nariman house to attack the militants. Commandos break the roof as snipers give cover. Thus begins a battle of bullets, grenades and bombs which lasts for another 15 hours.
In Trident, by 3pm, the hotel is declared neutralized. 32 people dead, 10 staff members among them.

At around 5 pm in the Nariman House, a huge explosion in the fourth floor helps the commandos to trickle down. By 10 pm Nariman house is neutralized by the commandos. The street lights up with crowds cheering for the valiant efforts of the commandos. People shake hands and click photographs with the heroes. Operation though successful, leaves five hostages, and one commando dead. All terrorists are neutralized. By this time many hostages have been rescued from various attacked sites.


Saturday, 29th Nov, 2008.
The Taj Mahal Hotel. Gateway of India. South Mumbai.

Taj has been under siege for almost 60 hours when at 8:30 am on Saturday. NSG begins the final assault. With smoke billowing from the Taj dome and bullets and grenades being fired, the commandos make their way inside the hotel and after hours of explosions and fire and smoke at 8:30 am on Saturday, 29th Nov, 2008 the Taj is declared neutralized.


DISCLAIMER:
(The details have been taken from various websites and dailies and is as per information published for public view. At some places, narration has been given an imaginary twist to the settings to make the article more realistic. In no way is the author trying to suggest anything )

Our hearts bleed and beat for Mumbai..

In order to condemn the Mumbai attack on 26th Nov 2008 an e-mail was sent out across India calling out citizens to act. Calling it as an opportunity for everyone to gather and make their opinion count, various venues were selected for a mass gathering across the 6 metros.

In Delhi it was organized near Jantar Mantar and a huge crowd of about 500-600 people had gathered to express their emotions in form of slogans, posters and lit candles. It started at 6:30 pm today, (Dec 3rd 2008) with people chanting slogans against the politicians followed by many patriotic songs. The anger was palpable. Our resilient nature was being questioned? Why were Indians resilient? When America was attacked on 11th September they stepped up the security leaves to such a level that till date there has not been a single terror attack anywhere. While India has suffered almost 3 major attacks in the past 6 months and every time we seem to say- “ We’ll not let it happen next time !” The videos below capture the mood of the gathering.

Media was asked not to let the fervor die down and should try to keep the spirit of the Indians alive. Onus of creating a platform was taken up by Mr. Sudhakar who shared his phone number with the audience. He invited the audience to help him set up a group and that would act as a platform for addressing such issues and making life for every one peaceful and safe. Another gentleman encouraged everyone to join the website www.yuwa.in and voice their views. Catch the video:



People unanimously asked for all the terrorists to be hanged to death so that we do not again fall down on our knees at the demands of various terror groups in return of hijacked planes and other terror strikes. Here’s the video:



Politicians were criticized in a big way. People questioned the equality of reward distribution with Abhinay Bindra earning 3 crores for winning an Olympic gold while Unnikrishnan’s family being given just 5 lacs for his bravery. Ballots of the deserving candidates being captured and the masses being forced to continue voting for the undeserved. Have a look:



This is just the start. Hope to see a revolution emerge just like phoenix from the ashes of all innocent lives lost at the hands of evil. Watch this space for a “blow by blow” account of the attack which will be updated in the next 24 hours. That will follow with a tribute to the great fighters who fought for us and saved our lives.

Slogans





People Lighting Candles



The Agitation

A Week Past...

Taj Attacked



"They can rip us apart, they can blow everything to bits, they can pump bullets into our businesses but we- our core undefeated and intact- pick up the pieces fast and restore ourselves. They can gut our hotels but they can’t destroy our guts. INDIA FIGHTS BACK.” Thus ran a quote on ET’s front page a week after terrorist attack on Mumbai- calling it India’s 9/11.

A week after 60 hrs of battle. A battle to save the lives of innocents held at gunpoint.
A week after the death of almost 200 people out of which 30 were foreigners.
A week after we lost our brave soldiers- Karkare, Salvaskar, Kaamte and many more
A week after baby Moshe was orphaned and Viraj lost his mother at CST (the one year baby drinking water in the arms of a Head Constable Suresh Salunkhe police officer- A picture that appeared on the front page of ET)
A week after we witnessed death, tears and helplessness in front of our eyes.

Attack on CST





Its been a week since I have been trying to put my thoughts together but some how words seemed to fall short of describing the utter bewilderment and sadness that dawned on me as I scanned through the news channels soaking in any information on the hostage situation on 27th Nov 2008. It had been 28 hours and firing, blood and grenade attacks could be seen everywhere. The news channels surrounded the Taj like falcons hovering around, waiting for an animal to die.
Right from the common man like Bhishm Mansukhani who had gone to Taj to attend a wedding, to the known like- Shyam Benegal, Shobha De, Lata Mangeshkar and many more were asked to comment on the terror attack.

Operation at Nariman House




It was quite an opportunity for our dear politicians though. With assembly elections round the corner, Mumbai blast became an agenda for them to woo votes. (Elections were held in Delhi on 29th Nov, 2008, as scheduled). Their lackadaisical approach and Mah CM Deshmukh asking the special task forces to march towards Mumbai hours after the attack only increased the casualty count. The people were being killed indiscriminately while the NSG commandos waited for a plane to fly down from Delhi to be taken to Mumbai. And then they were carried to the attacked sites in the Mumbai BEST buses. (While our cricketrs get the deluxe- state-of –the-art buses). It only left the common man wondering at the un-preparedness of India in the wake of any such national calamity. The forces are not to be blamed. NSG’s request for an aircraft for their use was not agreed by the authorities and government.

Who says the so called leaders didn’t come to share grief with the masses? Mr. Modi was outside The Oberoi after 37 hours of gunbattle that only led to the police force run helter skelter for his security. Utter nuisance.
Many leaders could not make it due to their assembly election schedule. After all, in the words of Mr. R. R Patil, Former Deputy CM of Maharashtra “ Aisi chhoti moti vaardaat toh hoti rehti hai.”

While Unnikrishnan breathed his last facing a volley of bullets from the militants inside the Taj, the government did not even prepare a befitting funeral for the martyr. And when Unnikrishnan’s father slammed the door on the face of Kerala CM- Achuthanandan asking him to leave immediately in a fit of anger (justified) the CM says “Had it not been Unnikrishnan, even a dog would not have come to this house!” Aghast as I am, we need to get rid of the weeds from our nation where people like Unni, Salaskar, Tukaram Omble (who took the bullets of the only arrested terrorist- Ajmal Ameer Kasab at the Chowpaty helping other officers to overpower Kasab), Bertie Gomes, Banja, Paramjit Singh and many other employees of the two hotels who realized their duty and gave their lives for its sake.
They knew what it was to be born an Indian. They knew what it took to be an Indian.

Stories on politicians and their reactions have been filling up a lot of air time on news channels and space on all the dailies. Now is the time when we can get together and bring about change in the system. Its not the politicians but you and me who make India. Its Us who can make this change happen.

Victims



Lucky yet Unlucky - Rescued

Through the eyes of a 6 month old...

I was walking by, in the market when I saw a mother carrying her six month old baby in her arms. Eyes wide open, the poor thing was staring at almost everything. I smiled. “Welcome to the world, chhotu”, I thought. And that thought was a catalyst to a series of thoughts that made me write this article. So here’s an interesting account of what possibly could be going on in the mind of those speechless angels and what it is possibly like to be a six month old. So here you go. The world through the eyes of a six month old.




Ok. I hate it when she scrubs my face like that. One she has removed all my clothes and put me in this tub filled with warm water and when she sees me crying the scrubbing becomes more vigorous and quick. Can’t she tell that I don’t like it? Since like six months now? Every morning I cry but she never forgets to just submerge me in this soapy water. Now, in few minutes another old lady will come and pick me up in her arms and wipe me away with that soft towel of mine. I like her. Cos she’s the only one who knows I don’t like it. But I don’t understand why she gets late every time. Can’t she just come like few minutes early and save me from this ordeal? Hmmm…
Oh here she is. My saviour with a beatific smile. Thank God!

Five minutes later.

Ok this is fun. This lady who scrubs me everyday also massages my body after the water dip. The sunrays filter through the windows and fall directly on my forehead, arms and legs and she comes with a liquid which is massaged all over me. And then I am left naked for some time. While she massages me she makes weird sounds. “Ma-ma, ma- ma, baby mama” That’s all she keeps repeating. Does she want me to repeat that? Cos the other day you know, when I hummed a bit? The whole house went on frenzy. This “mama” lady shrieked. With joy I guess and I was surrounded by a lot of people peering down at me. One was the same old lady in saree and there was another old man, who generally stays with her all the time. It was fun to get so much attention, I tell you. And everybody was making those queer sounds , “awww” and ma-ma lady kept on saying, “Baby say ma-ma, ma-ma” but then I was not in the mood to repeat, you see.
Well that was that. Today again she’s trying her luck. Haha, but I am not impressed at all. Let me find an opportune moment to hum a bit. Let’s see how they behave then.

Fifteen minutes later.

Well I am all dressed right now. And mama is trying to force this steel object filled with food into my mouth. Like I said when she comes to know I don’t like some thing she forces it on me. When I grow up, I’ll tell her it is not a good thing to do. Till then I pray that saree lady comes and rescues me.

Half hour later.

Ok. I think we are going somewhere. Hmm.. Mama looks dressed and oooh… shes peering down at me. Man, she looks so different. Her face looks changed. They haven’t taught me colours as yet, so I can’t give you those details. Now come on you are expecting a little too much from a six month old. Aren’t you?

Fifteen minutes later.

Yeah. Didn’t I tell you we are going? Here I am strapped in a seat of a big car which mama’s driving. She has rolled up the windows so I can only hear the faint noise of traffic. There are these big cars and buses looking down at me. Mama is more scared than I am. Oh she has switched on that nice box in front of me which speaks in different sounds. Mama is humming too. I think this box asks her to repeat things after it. Haha, just that it is musical with blue and red lights flickering up and down. Interesting. Ok let me play with it a bit. Talk to you later.

Half an hour later.

Whoops. She just lifted me in her arms. Man. I dozed off while listening to that musical box cos I feel so zapped right now.. Ooh. I am perched on her left arm looking over her shoulder. There are people all around. We just passed two men looking at mama. Do they know her? If yes, why didn’t she say hi? Never mind. I’ll ask her this when I grow up. There are quite a few who look at her. Wonder why?
Oh look! There are these ladies walking just behind us. They are looking at me I am sure. The shorter one is touching my pinky. Now what does she want? Ok, she’s making me feel shy. Oh look at them, they are laughing at my shy smile. What was so funny? And my God! I don’t believe it! Mama is smiling back a them. Not good, I say.

Ten minutes later.

We have entered a big room through huge ornamented doors.Inside it’s very shiny with big lights everywhere. Mama is peering at some thing that is put behind the glass. There are many of them. Of different colours. I have seen them on almost everybody. They wear it on their wrist. All of them. (How boring! I’ll tie it on my neck when I grow up).And they keep looking at it many times a day. I wonder why? And this thing also hangs on the walls of our house. Here I see so many of them hanging all around us. Mama is talking very animatedly with this old guy at the counter. I think they know each other well. Surely better than guys staring at her on the road. She is pointing at the huge black one behind the glass. They are packing it for her as she hands them a small card. Is she inviting this old man home?

Ten minutes later.

I am back again perched on her left arm. A packet hanging on her right arm. Mama is humming. She looks happy. Hmm.. let me smile a bit. Awww… she just kissed me on my cheek. I like her. A lot. Wait a minute, she just entered in another big room with lot of tables and chairs and look how every man inside is guiding her to the table in the centre of the room. Now can’t she see it? Weird people! Ok. I am placed on a small chair with a wooden plank flipped shut in front of me. Mama got me a toy here. So sweet. She’s looking at the same thing on her wrist and then towards the door. I think she’s waiting for some one. Let me play a while.

Fifteen minutes later.

Look at that! While I was playing some one came in and mama got up. I can’t see his face. They are hugging each other. Hmm. Mama handed him the gift she just bought and he kissed her back and slid a shiny thing on her finger. The one just next to the pinky? She looks so happy and surprised. Oh she kisses him back. Is it some kissing competition? And hello who are you?
Finally, he turns around. Oh! He’s the same guy who shares my room with mama. I see him everyday, every morning. At times even he asks me to mumble “Pa-pa, pa-pa” Wonder what’s wrong with the two. Hey! wait a minute, he’s reaching out to grab me from the chair and Oh he flings me up in the air! That freaks me out! Oh my God! I don’t like it much.. Now don’t complain that I peed on your pants. “Eh pa-pa! Oops, I just mumbled that and look! Look at them! They are going hysterical with surprise. Ready to jump with joy. Kids, I tell you!

I See You !

I see you
In the flicker of the flame
Reflecting the purity of your passion

In the bubbles of soap water
Popping out like your promises around me

In the colours of the butterfly
Resembling the shades of your dreams

In the taut strings of the guitar
Speaking of discipline of your being

In the hem of my dress
Holding on to till the very end

In the little finger that holds my thumb
With the same trust that you once held

The Wake

My friends raise eye brows, my parents have given up explaining the negative effects, my cousins pray I don’t share the room with them, my aunt complains and my brain does funny things in the morning (ok that’s an exaggeration) when I once again commit the crime of sleeping late. Sleeping late by my standards is like 4:00 in the morning when I can hear the early birds chirping in the summer months (n still sleeping in winters) and when I know that I have exactly three and a half hours to get my ass off the bed and start the day with a jarring morning (which smoothens out as I sip coffee in office). Yes, the morning shower jolts me into reality and I am ready in no time all prim and proper with sparkling eyes but there are times when I have to try my best to stifle the yawns, specially when my boss extends my job list and I know I have a long day ahead. But that doesn’t stop me from keeping awake the same night. May be I’ll sleep earlier, lets say 1:00 am.. But never before that. And how I look forward for weekends when my mornings roll into afternoons and I open my eyes to the mouthwatering whiff wafting through the kitchen and I know its time I get up !
I don’t really think its insomnia. (Did you know- 64 million Americans suffer from insomnia and women are 1.4 times more likely to suffer from it than men. Why? I mean is that even a question? Really? Haha..) But yes over the years I have developed this habit of staying up late. Whether it was because of studying well into the night and getting up late during preps before board examination or reading away novels at night and waking up giggling with cousins during vacations, staying up late has become a part of me. (Unless, of course, I am traveling or sick tired.) I have often tried to go off to sleep on time. And I admit that if I want to I will go to sleep at around 10-11pm. But then I think at night I get the best of me. All new ideas, new thoughts would come up. I will suddenly remember something important and pull out my laptop and I start typing vigorously. All my poems happen at night. Very few may be 1% during day time. For me the quiet of the night gives me time to think and write my thoughts. I unleash myself. Few of my nocturnal friends also experience the same effect. Shane comes up with new songs and music on his guitar, Aditi plans her next tour plan, Mahesh cooks up another article for his magazine. So it actually works for few people. Does it work for you?
Its also the time to watch some great stuff on TV. This article in HT specially drew my attention today in which Nivriti Bhutalia gets tired of her biological clock and watches TV the insomniac way. Channels like Discovery, HBO, Star Movies have lineups worth watching. If nothing much you could catch one of the back-to-back series of F.R.I.E.N.D.S which would keep you warm enough laughing and drift you off to sleep in no time.
I think its all about an individual and how it fits him or her. Gone are the days when “early to bed and early to rise” was the discipline in every house. Now with new lifestyles and newer job profiles rules have been customized. Otherwise,what will happen to our BPO employees in that case and the 24- hr pharmacies and our poor old chowkidaar to name a few. Why not give him some company and go the “Jaagtey raho” way??
So tell me:
What kind are you?
What do you do when you go to sleep? Read a novel? Listen to music? And stay awake doing nothing? Or whisper sweet nothings to your beloved? Or is it that you are reading this article and laughing to your self and wondering- “Should I reply?”

Interesting Tryst

I had been waiting for almost 20 minutes. Flipping through the October edition of Cineblitz filled with gossips from the starry land, my eyes wandered to something worthwhile. A write up on geo- thermal stations in New Zealand kept me captivated for another 30 minutes when I was called in for the check up.

In the next ten minutes I was on my way to the pharmacy in the basement of the 5 storied clinic. I had shown a constant improvement with my acne treatment and had come in for a routine check up. The clinic was one of its kind. With all possible treatments available in the dermatological domain the architecture of the building was truly state- of- art. The interiors were tasteful with Cerulean blue colour theme. Beautiful ornamented ceramic pottery could be seen on every shelf and the floor was kept warm with nice blue Kashmiri carpets.

In the pharmacy I was greeted by a kind eyed gentleman who must’ve been in his late sixties. Dressed almost identically to Dr. Sharma, a look at his face confirmed him as his brother. He was ruffling through prescriptions and pulling out required medicines for the patient sitting in the sofa inside. I opened the glass door and placed my self next to the first patient. The regular pharmacist was not around and Mr. Sharma looked a bit hassled with packing the medicines in zip pouches and then writing down the billing details. I waited patiently however my curious eyes stayed attentive. Every few seconds he would look at me and smile in a way saying, “I will just attend you in a moment”. I smiled back nodding and reassuring that I was at ease and he need not worry. I think it was this “optical language” that made us click the very next moment. No sooner did the first patient turned his back than Mr. Sharma as he introduced himself as, started chatting with me.

Through out his childhood and adolescence he had lived in and around Delhi. After that he moved to the States and then to the Arabian part of the world where he worked as a Manager for one of the MNC’s. Quite happy with his life it was not until Dr. Sharma, his younger brother, who was practicing as a dermatologist in the States insisted him in starting up their own clinic in India. Close as they were, Mr. Sharma couldn’t say no to his younger favourite. Moreover the thought of coming back home was heart warming enough.

Then began their journey of building the clinic from scratch. Right from buying the land and getting the building erected both the brothers worked towards perfecting everysingle step of their dream. He was made the CEO while Dr. Sharma continued his practice. With a huge clientele and a very busy schedule with patients visiting from all over the world, Dr. Sharma had little time to look into the matters of the company. And what could have been better than your own brother handling it.

Being a traveler Mr. Sharma and his wife had been around the world. “We’ve been to 40 countries,” he gleamed. I smiled back enthusiastically saying, “Wow, I wish to go around the world too!” He quickly replied, “Oh, you should!” And after that I launched into a small description of all the recent tours I had taken and how my generous boss had readily allowed me to take leaves. Mr. Sharma then hurled few questions on my job profile as a researcher and my hobbies and whether I was happy with my job. I nodded and said, “Well, the best thing is I get enough time to travel around.” He listened to me patiently nodding his head here and there and simultaneously making my bills. I was my usual self- chatty and friendly.

Quite pleased with me I suppose, the next thing he did was hand me over his visiting card. A very generous and kind gesture, I thought. He added quickly, “You are full of energy and I like you. Be positive all your life and do what you love the most. I have always liked creative people and you have compelled me to give you my visiting card, which I don’t give out easily. Feel free to contact me any day and I will be more than happy to help you. Keep in touch and I would want to see some of your creativity. ” I smiled benevolently.

It doesn’t happen every day that in the strangest of situations and filled with strange people you suddenly come across someone who without knowing you much, trusts you and believes in you and more importantly wishes good for you. The kind eyes seemed to bless me and reflected the honesty with which I spoke. Mr. Sharma is one of such people whom I would always remember as one of the “Connectors” in my life. People as messengers sent by God to re-instill the faith in me and to always coax me to keep going ahead. Almost like angels.

Rhythm

Ever wondered why nursery rhymes rhyme? Why is the “little teapot” “short and stout”? Why didn’t the poet let it taper with his imagination? Why does the twinkling star “up so high” shine like a “diamond in the sky”? Why didn’t the moon come in?
A recent conversation with a friend made me look for reasons for rhyming of nursery rhymes. The obvious reason is that children find it easy to understand the rhyming lines. New to the world and vice- versa the big things explained in their language will always make sense. And would help them remember the entire poem.
Also, I believe few reasons why nursery rhymes rhyme could be:
a. A baby, even before its born, comes in touch with rhythm. His mother’s heartbeat and breathing movements are rhythmic. So the rhythmic pattern becomes innate to his being. And it’s all the more obvious for him to understand rhythm.
b. The lullabies that put him to sleep are rhythmic. (There might be a connection between the frequencies emitted by the lullaby and the frequency of the child’s sleepy brain. Both converging and putting him to sleep.) The rhythmic tap on his back helps him drift into his fairy land.
c. The sounds of the little toys around him emit a rhythmic monotone. The wind chime hanging over his head not only acts as and engaging distraction but a device producing rhythmic music.
d. The words “Mama” and “Papa” both are rhythmic repetition of the first syllable. Thus strengthening the fact that rhythm holds true in their learning and deciphering pattern.
e. And last but not the least… their wails are rhythmic too… Owwwaaaaahhhh they go again and again 

My Latest Crush

I saw him in one of my gymming sessions. Tired with running in the field I was wiping off sweat from my forehead with my t-shirt sleeve when he caught my attention. Majestically he walked past without even flickering a glance in my direction. I smiled. Quite a sight he was. Felt like pummeling him all over just that it would have been the other way around had I given that fantasy of mine a try.
I continued jogging in the field. My instructor had refused to allow me use the tread mill. “If you want results, take on the field,” he had said. And I had clumsily made my way to the dry field on the right hand side of the gymming hallway. I had barely completed 3 rounds when Turkis (that’s how the little boy accompanying him pronounces his name) trundled his way into my life and made me his ardent fan. All the resentment on my instructor’s decision had melted away like butter on a grilled bread loaf.
It took exact 2 minutes for us to click. I think he sensed I was a dog lover. And no sooner did I call his name out he plodded clumsily toward me. Weighing close to 40 kgs this cute looking Napolean Mastif snuggled next to me on the green patch and looked up with droopy eyes. The folds of his skin hanging loose reminding me of the Garnier Fructis anti wrinkle cream advertisement. After initial head pat and a coat brush he preferred rolling on the grass and I got up to take few more rounds. My head would turn right, left and back to catch a glimpse of what he was up to while I jogged.
Now we meet almost everyday. I see myself beam when I see him in the field and my eyes search for him when I am early. I think he likes me too. He lets me play with his skin folds and ears and I even checked his eye colour by almost peering right into them. The small kid who gets him there? I told you about him right? Ya. He says, “Didi, you are the only one who has the courage to come and touch him and surprisingly he never growls, Nahin to yeh logon ko chhoney bhi nahi deta, apne ko”. I smiled. Ya may be I found a new friend ! Turkis- my little monster.

ROCK ON!

Music lovers watch it. Music ignorant watch it, still. “Rock on” really rocks.
The movie talks of love, jealousy, betrayal, dissatisfaction, lies, hatred, competition…. Everything.. It’s a story about four friends, who know nothing but music, talk nothing but music and breathe nothing but music are estranged from each other due to circumstances and how music re-unites them. The story is about going away and then coming back. A subject that has been dealt with, in many movies before but Rock on stirs a faint rhythm in your heart and makes it louder. It brings out alive the rock star in you. The one who wants to live life - the way it wants to, irrespective of the societal pressures, peer pressure or one’s own motive of leading a so called “comfortable” life.


KD- the character played by Purab Kohli is a sight to watch. He has played his reel role in the real sense. A next door guy with eyes dancing for girls he is the funny bone of the group. His drunken act in one of the parties is commendable and just a true snap from every day life. He plays the drums in the group.



Joe- An aggressive character played by Arjun Rampal is the guitarist in the group. Unfair - is the game life plays on him and becomes one of the reasons for the band to disband.




Luke Kenny is noticed as Rob- the key board guy who not only has talent but has been recognized by many musicians and has made a mark in the industry with few jingles in ads. Even after ten years of being without his band he wants to make it to the stage- against all odds




Farhaan Akhtar being introduced as Aaditya does justice to the lead role. His real talent of being able to sing and compose music, helps add credibility to the character and leaves the audience spell bound. No, he is not a chocolate hero in the movie. With shades of gray and dischord interwoven in his character his debut performance is commendable too. And his husky voice does sound sexy :)




Prachi Desai- the youngest queen of hindi soap “Kasam Se” acts as Farhan’s wife and plays a role of home maker of a wealthy investment banker. Her husband’s lack of involvement in family life and her quest to know him better makes her discover the “Magik” her husband’s band had tried to weave ten years ago. Thid pivots her to the critical role of the real starter of the re-union. With the re-union even her marriage which is some where on the rocks gets saved.

The music and lyrics resound more once you have seen the movie otherwise it becomes difficult to relate with it. Even Sindbad - the sailor and Kabhi Khud Pe Hansa make your feet tap in the theatre and you are bound to listen to it the very next moment you step out. "Jo Tum Ho Toh" tops the list.
I donot know anything about picturisation and camera angles, but the shots taken in Aaditya’s palatial house, where the reflection of the characters in being captured on the glass instead of their real self adds newness.
The film is to the point without any melodramatic moments and that makes it even livelier.
So what you waiting for- Rock on !