Rentals Anyone?

Is it better to rent a house or own one? It seems like a pretty straightforward question. Own one, of course! Why would anyone want to rent a house when they can own one? Well, maybe if you are like Jack Reacher from Lee Child's Reacher series, then you would rather rent a house. Reacher liked to be on the move and did not want the feeling of having roots at any one place. It sort of makes sense, come to think of it. 

So, it really comes down to what kind of a person you are and how you like to live your life. Most people like the stability of having roots while some enjoy the high of being a few feet above the ground. Usually the younger you are, the less concerned you are about having roots. As you get older, you start thinking about where you want to retire. You want a place where you can spend days doing nothing more than laying back and enjoying the quiet. Strangely, in my case, it has been the opposite. It's not that I'm terribly old but slightly older than what I need to be allowed to call myself young. 

I grew up dreaming of owning a house. I nurtured the fantasy until I bought an apartment a few years ago. It was not exactly the stuff of my dreams but I loved it. When I banked the last of my mortgage payments, I retired the dream, leaving an empty space where bricks, mortar and splotches of colour had been metamorphosing during my entire childhood. I, however, did not feel the sheer joy that accompanies dreams coming true. The burst of glitter and the background music did not quite happen. It was not that I was not happy but I did not feel the rush I expected to. Is it because I do not spend too much time there anymore? 

When my job took me overseas, I experienced a whole new world. From a developing country to a developed country, the leap was huge. It was not so much the glamour that money held but the scent of freedom that grabbed me. I travelled to as many places as I could during my first year. By the end of that year, I was smitten. This is what I wanted to do. Travel, travel and more travel. When people asked me if I was going to buy a house here, I did not quite get it. Why would I buy one when I could keep moving? I could move states or I could move countries, as my fancy took me. If I wanted to, I could just move houses because I wanted one with a better view from the balcony or had a bigger swimming pool. I could change my mind about what suburb I wanted to live in. There was so much freedom in renting a unit than there was in owning a house. The owner would worry about the registration and taxes, the renovations and insurance. All I needed was my suitcase and identity points to bunk where I wanted to. The smell of freedom had engulfed me to that extent. Jack Reacher, I feel you! 

That is not to say that I do not like the idea of roots. I am happy to be tied loosely to my roots, as long as I can keep flying high for as long as I want to. Tomorrow, I may decide to cut the chord and fly away or turn off the hot air and glide down. I will cross that bridge when I come to it. Yes, it makes sense to me now. Why would people rather rent than own? It is because it gives life the flavour that the consistency of everyday broth lacks. Did I mention it is cheaper to pay rents than make mortgage payments? It may not be so, in the long run but, not knowing what tomorrow holds, it might just be worthwhile. 

No Points For Loyalty

I have been loyal to the Indian Cricket Team since the first match at the Boxing Day series. It is true that I have had my share of rants and flashed anger but I did say, back in the days of the Test Series, that if I could afford it, I'd be at every single one of the stadiums to cheer them. In fact, I would have loved to be at the SCG (Sydney), Adelaide Oval, WACA (Perth), MCG (Melbourne) throughout the series. When the ODI started, that is just what I have done. 

I was at the MCG a couple of matches ago, cheering every odd 4 or difficult 6, as I watched us lose. When the team arrived at the Gabba and played the Aussies, I was there, knowing there was way too much pressure than our boys might be able to handle. I enjoyed the first session of the match until they threw it away in the slog overs of our bowling and sealed the deal with the first over of our batting. Gambhir, who was playing well until then, was either too caught up in his rift with Dhoni on who should get the credit for the earlier win/draw or just plain careless. Sachin may be playing alright but he hasn't been sticking around long enough on the field to make a difference, in the entire series.

Yesterday's match was no different. I entered the stadium as we faced the first ball, and by the time I was seated, we had lost one wicket. Sehwag's non-performance in this entire tour has been apparent to all but him. Sitting him out in the last two matches has been a very good call by Dhoni. With Dhoni out of the picture, his rotation concept was flung out the window and Sehwag brought in, along with the other 2 top order batsmen. A lot was riding on the man, who also replaced Dhoni as captain of the Indian cricket team. He failed us miserably. 

The top order batsmen started off well. Sachin was putting on his class act, until he was struck by a stroke of bad luck. Why does that happen whenever he's giving us a good game? Gambhir threw away his wicket too early, yet again. This was his one chance to prove to Dhoni, and whoever else cared, that he could win matches for India too. He could have got all the credit he needed but he chose to waste his one opportunity to get us those 4 points on the Tally Board. He should've have learnt from Sunday's match that the key was to stay on the field. He simply didn't wait to settle in, before flailing his bat about. 

The Kohli-Raina partnership started slow and steady but was looking good until Raina played a careless shot that sent him back to the pavilion. The match started to lean heavily on Kohli's shoulders after that. Unfortunately, he didn't last too much longer either. He was our highest scorer but that wasn't even enough to grant us a less disgraceful loss. A couple of easy catches dropped by SL man Chandimal had saved him earlier but if he expected the luck to carry him through to the end, he was asking for too much. Sehwag sent Pathan in to bat, before Patel and Ashwin, to hitch the runs up a few notches. The man tried but there was not much he could do, with little support from his partners. Patel walked away with a single digit score. Ashwin was looking good with the bat for a few minutes, only to join the ranks of the failures sooner than we could have afforded. A couple of Dhoni's classic sixes would have helped us greatly. The man was sorely missed on the field.

The bowlers had given away too many runs in the first session. Expecting them to salvage that in the batting arena was taking optimism to another level. In a blink, we lost Vinay Kumar. Yadav did well to take a couple of dot balls and let Pathan face the ball in a last ditch effort to close the gap. The first of those balls spelt doom for us. He was caught by the bowler Malinga. 

Sri Lanka was clearly the better team in this match. Their batsmen had taken knocked up 289 runs. In spite of a few fielding glitches, their bowlers served them well too. Kulasekara was truly deserving of the Best Player of The Match award, having claimed 3 key wickets, including Sachin Tendulkar's. 

With that, the noose around the Indian team's necks have been tightened. A win in this match would have increased their chances of reaching the finals. The loss meant that it can be any team at the finals, depending on how each of the next few matches play out. India has slipped from the top to the bottom place at the Points Table in just 2 games. We will have to win both matches coming up and pray that Sri Lanka will lose at least one, to make it to the finals. It is not impossible but not one bit easy either, given how quickly we buckle under pressure. 

CB Series 2012: Match 7 - AusVInd

I couldn't sleep on Saturday. I dreamt of cricket, the stadium and cheering all night. I woke up in the morning, anxious about how the day would play out. It was an important match for us. A win would drive our stake firmly into the ground. A loss would make the last couple of wins disappear. 

The day really started when I got on that bus to the city, filled with people in blue team jerseys and paint on their faces. I could barely wait to reach the shuttle and when I did, I found myself furiously texting my friend asking if she could get there any sooner. We strolled around a bit, checking out tents, taking random pictures and finally joined the lines at the gates to arrive at our seats in time for the first ball.

The numbers were much bigger than I expected. Unlike at the MCG, there were as many, if not more, Aussie fans as there were Indians. From caps, bandannas, jerseys to costumes, there was blue, green and yellow all around me. I felt like a seven year old at an annual fair. I could not contain my excitement as V pointed out the various cartoon characters to me. By the time we got in, Australia had won the toss and decided to bat. We decided to find our seats first, and come back for the beer later. Once we got to our seats, on a top row, bang in the middle of two aisles, we were kicking ourselves for not buying the beer first. 

The weather was perfect for cricket and both teams were fighting for their place on the board. It was going to be a great game!

When Australia and India play, it does not matter who wins the toss. India always choses to chase while the Aussies like to start with their bats. It works well for both teams.  

The first few overs were great for the Indians. We managed to restrict the runs. Wade was scoring a run here and a run there, struggling to get any big ones. When Warner got to bat, he flung the ball around a bit. The Indians seemed unfazed but we needed his wicket sooner than later. I sat there, willing someone to get Warner. Soon enough Zaheer Khan claimed Warner, with a catch from Sachin Tendulkar. It was perfect. Ricky Ponting came in next and couldn't do much for his team. After a few lame attempts to score runs, he was sent back to the pavilion. 

Next to arrive was Forrest. He is a big guy. There was no doubt he was going to get a boundary or two before long. Wade was still failing to do much. A little while later, Wade was put out of his misery and Mike Hussey walked in. The Hussey-Forrest partnership did well for the Aussies. After they had been on the field together for about an hour, the scoreboard was not looking great for India. We badly needed a wicket. It didn't matter which one but the partnership had to be broken. 

Suddenly, there was a loud appeal and Mike Hussey was out. Or was he? The umpires weren't sure either, so the third umpire was called upon. A couple of replays didn't really tell us what the result would be. So, we waited. A big red OUT appeared on the screen and Mike Hussey started to walk towards the pavilion. The Indian audience at the stadium screamed with joy. The cheering went on non-stop till we saw one of the ground umpires running towards Hussey. We saw Hussey walk back. Something wasn't right. Then, the big screen said NOT OUT in bright green. The Aussie crowd went crazy. Not surprisingly, they yelled louder than the Indians just had. Nobody knew what was going on. We saw Dhoni speaking with the umpires. Somebody joked that the third umpire must have hit the wrong button. Whatever had happened, Dhoni's men had to concede that it was not out.

The match resumed. A couple of balls later, it was announced at the stadium that the third umpire had indeed hit the wrong button. How hilarious! Someone on Facebook quoted Ravi Shastry as saying that the man had one job to do all day, which was to hit the button and he gets the wrong one! 

The Indians were unfettered. Pathan came in and within the next few minutes took both wickets - Hussey and Forrest. He was the hero in the Indian army at that moment. The rest of the match played out pretty well. The Indians tried their best to restrict the Aussies and the latters trying their best to up the score. At the 45th over, the scoreboard looked like either team could take this match away. Then, the last two overs happened. Those few minutes tilted the game entirely in the direction of the Aussies. Dan Christian and David Hussey sent the balls flying, into fours and sixes. The target score for the defending team was beyond reach by the time they were finished. The difficult score was 250 but at 280, the Aussies looked damn good right then.

The second half of the session didn't offer much entertainment. The top order batsmen in the Indian team didn't wait to settle in. Trying to score some big ones right from the word go, they fell like a pack of cards, leaving Dhoni to score the entire 200 runs by himself. He did his best to keep his cool and bridge the gap. It was only a matter of time before he knew that he had to unleash his energy and start going for the big ones. One of those shots turned unlucky for him and he was gone. When that happened, the Aussies had pretty much won the match. The lower order batsmen took a few fours and ran between the wickets as best as they could. There was only so much they could do. The gap got wider and wider till it cracked. India lost the match without even a total of 200. 

There is no doubt the better team had won. It was another disgraceful defeat for India. Another battle lost without putting up a fight. Now, with Dhoni banned from the next ODI, what will happen to the India's place on the Points Table? Will we make it to the finals?

Vodafone Test Series - Their Test or Mine?

"Somewhere in the midst of the changing seasons and overbooked events, there will be time to read and write" Those are words from my last blog, at the end of last year. It has taken me 18 days to get back to writing my first post of this year. Obviously, it has not been that easy to make time to write. I will admit that I may have had the opportunity a couple of times but I have been lazy or tempted to trade the writing hour in favour of a far easier and (sadly) slightly more enjoyable task of reading. I guess a Jack Reacher book does that to me.  The Indian cricket team arrived in Australia last month and started their first match against the locals, with the Boxing Day Test Series, at the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG). They lost the match. That was the start of the disastrous streak for the Indians in the Vodafone Test Series. Three matches played. Thrashed by the Aussies in each one of them. In fact, they only got worse each match, losing the second one at the Sydney Cricket Ground (SCG) by an innings and repeating that at the Western Australia Cricket Association (WACA) grounds at Perth in 2 and 1/2 days. The media in both countries went crazy. The Indian cricketers were defamed liberally while the Australians were nearly deified. Somewhat rightly too, I will admit.  By the third match, the Aussies were the only ones being spoken of, as far as the game of cricket went. It was as if the Indians were not playing at all. Truth be told, we have been in the ground but whatever it is that we have been doing, it cannot be called 'playing'. We have fared badly and how! By the end of the third match, there was not one person with a kind word for the Indian men in blue. Even the captain Dhoni had run out of excuses and had to admit to a rather shameful performance thus far. The rest of the crowd, thankfully, stayed away from the press. That is probably just as well, considering that they have only been in the news for all sorts of wrong reasons (giving the bird to the Aussies inside and outside the cricket ground, go-karting instead of practising, the drama over the 'traditional' booze party at the WACA, the list goes on). The cricket team may be lying low since their last defeat at Perth but the talk of their failure has not stopped. The media is still tearing them apart. The favourites, at the moment, are the Aussies and there does not seem to be enough words to praise their performance. The supporters of the Indian cricket team are copping a fair bit of flak too. Not only do I have to deal with the frustration of the team performing poorly but face the comments from everyone at work, every day. It is as if, suddenly, everyone around me has been given a secret weapon to attack me with. No matter what topic is being discussed, the surefire way to shut me up and deflect my argument seems to be to bring up the Indian cricket team's performance.  Disgraceful, boys! Thanks very much, for that! There is no expectation that we will win the next match. The Australian captain, Michael Clarke, has made his intentions clear. They want a 4-0 win this series. Most likely, they will get what they want. The test series is out of our hands, just as the Border-Gavaskar trophy has already gone into theirs. It is no secret and the crowds in Australia and India have acknowledged that is the case. Clarke might refuse to call the next match dead rubber, before the reporters, but I bet he and his team are confident that it is.  The concern in my mind now, is how they will perform in the next few matches during the rest of their Australian tour. Having bought tickets to watch a couple of ODIs in the Commonwealth Bank Series, I wonder if I will get value for my money. Will I be able to proudly wear the new Indian cricket team jersey? Will they put up a better show then? Will we win? If we lose, will we have at least put up resistance? I may not be playing the match but I sure feel like I have exams coming up.  Whatever the outcome, they are not going to be the only ones to have to face the music. For my own sake, I hope we fare well. Next week is going to be a hard one to live down. From the moment I step inside office on Tuesday, the 24th day of January 2012, to the last ball of the 4th Test, I will be counting down the fat ugly minutes and willing them to pass me by as quickly as possible. It will be slow going. 

Aankhon Ki Masti

Movie: Umrao Jaan
Singer: Asha Bhosle


In aankhon ki masti ke, aah aah aah aah
In aankhon ki masti ke mastaane hazaaron hain
Mastaane hazaaron hain
In aankhon se vaabasta
In aankhon se vaabasta afsaane hazaaron hain
Afsaane hazaaron hain
In aankhon ki masti ke
Ek tum hi nahin tanha, aah aah
Ek tum hi nahin tanha ulfat mein meri rusva
Ulfat mein meri rusva
Is shaher mein tum jaise
Is shaher mein tum jaise deewaane hazaaron hain
Deewaane hazaaron hain
In aankhon ki masti ke mastaane hazaaron hain
In aankhon ki masti ke, aah aah aah
Ek sirf humi mai ko, ek sirf humi
Ek sirf humi mai ko aankhon se pilaate hain
Aankhon se pilaate hain
Kehne ko to duniya mein
Kehne ko to duniya mein maikhaane hazaaron hain
Maikhaane hazaaron hain
In aankhon ki masti ke mastaane hazaaron hain
In aankhon ki masti ke
Is shamm-e-faroza ko, aah aah
Is shamm-e-faroza ko aandhi se darraate ho
Aandhi se darraate ho
Is shamm-e-faroza ke
Is shamm-e-faroza ke parvaane hazaaron hain
Parvaane hazaaron hain
In aankhon ki masti ke mastaane hazaaron hain
In aankhon se vaabasta afsaane hazaaron hain
Afsaane hazaaron hain
In aankhon ki masti ke

IPL 2011 Selections

I'm missing the IPL drama back home. The news, discussions, slapping each other back and forth, the spicy bhel puri that is dished out every time the term IPL pops up. Unable to bear the ignorance anymore, I googled for an update on the teams, as one after another friends and family vented on Twitter and FB. 

Cricket, glamour and money have always been the main ingredients of IPL, not necessarily in that order. Possibly in the reverse order, money being the most (in)famous player of all. The mindboggling figures splashed across the internet, therefore, failed to bother me. Of course!

What I miss most is the accusations hurled and explanations provided, the juicy arguments across the teams, by team owners, cricket afficionados, the fans, policiticians and anyone who cared to venture an opinion. Somewhere in the midst of all this, there is always a few true facts hidden. Some probably untrue but put out there in a seemingly reasonable package to appease the legality component. 

Among one of these, I wish to find answers to RCB's decision to hack Ross Taylor and Kevin Pieterson from their team. Weren't they two of the best players in RCB last year? I remember being at the stadium at one of the RCB matches, screaming myself hoarse - Taylor Taylor Taylor - as Ross Taylor played a brilliant innings. Twitter and FB splattered my undying love for the man, throughout the duration of the match. In the next match that I followed, my love had passed on to Pieterson, who smashed the ball with his bat like an unstoppable. Once again, the Twitterati and FB world found me spewing cheers to Kevin Pieterson, my man of the hour. It was these and only these that, at the time, drew the light of my devotion over the Royal Challengers Bangalore.

What was Mallya thinking? My sibling says "They realise they need better reasons for losing, hence the tactic". Rings true, I admit. I didn't find their names on any of the teams. Surely, they deserved their minutes of fame while it lasted. I bet there are others who faced similar fate. There are other decisions by IPL team owners, captains, etc that are being torn apart by the media and public, not to mention peers. All that I miss. This is my penny's worth of contribution to the debate that I do not get to witness. 

Oh, the joys of being away from home...

PS. The teams, from a page belonging to the Herald Sun.

India From Outside

As one of thousands of people who leave their homes and travel to other countries to gain experience, knowledge and an improved lifestyle, I crossed the seas and arrived at this island. As is human nature to adapt to current surroundings, so did I. I went a step ahead and ensured I remain busy so I don't remember what I'm missing from where I arrived. I had so much fun being "a Roman in Rome" that it became my life. Occasionally, a moment like this came up.

suholla suholla 

10 mins into watching Karthik Calling Karthik. Hadn't realized I missed all this so much. I wanna go home! #fb

A friend responded to me on FB and said she felt the same way every time she watched a Bollywood movie. Last night, I stayed up till 1.30 watching a movie that I'd not only watched but knew was not all that great. 

It reminded me of another friend from US who is a big fan of Govinda, now a has-been celebrity in India. I had scoffed at her taste back in the earlier days saying that is what happened when you were away from home. 

Today, I can relate to it. I still won't chase Govinda but I can sit through a crappy Hindi movie and get nostalgic. 

It makes me wonder if this is why Karan Johar's movies are such big blockbusters abroad. Not all of them are good but he touches a nerve that non-residents can feel. Something they can relate to. It's like buying readymade "Nan bread" at Woolworths or Coles. Like thinking it is the closest thing I can get to eating naan at home, so I'll buy it and if it takes alright, I'll like it. Reality is that it is nothing like a real naan made in India. A mock-up of the original, if you will. 

Same applies to the localities of that place. KJo's movies have a sprinkling of India and culture but the locations are those outsiders can identify with. Then the drama and the "tradition" that might not really be India but what is believed outside of India. A smattering of all that and you have a hit Bollywood movie that might not work in India but will bring in moolah from outside. 

India from within India is so different from India from outside. A lot of people ask me about Indian culture and if this is how we do something. I try to explain to them that Indian culture is not one culture but many. South Indians are so different from North Indians. We speak over 25 languages and have almost as many cultures. If you dig deeper, there is the caste system and sub-caste system, where tradition varies within one culture. 

I have not met one expat who told me (s)he loved ragi mudde or rasam. Or even heard of it. India, for them, is "nan bread", "dahl", tandoori chicken, butter chicken, biryani, etc. All tailored to suit their exotic palates too. I wonder if we could tailor a mudde or rasam that way. Maybe not. Maybe that is why we can get that stuff only in India. 

Most of what is seen outside is the North Indian culture. More so Punjab, Mumbai and Delhi than any other. It's Indian culture alright but it's not the mirror to all of India. Just a peep through the window. Try explaining that to somehow who is baffled that every Indian can speak atleast 2 - 3 different languages. 

The Ayodhya Verdict

I heard the verdict on the long-standing Ayodhya issue. It was pathetic, if nothing else. No offence but why did it take this long to say something I could have said right back then? On the surface it sounds like a reasonable decision. Except that, it is not. 

If Hindus and Muslims could live in harmony, sharing the same ground, why have they not already? Maybe most Hindus and Muslims do not really care if they had to share the ground. They can live in harmony. There are certain sections of troublemakers who needed the issue to thrive because it served their selfish interests. How is this verdict going to address that? In my view, the core of the problem has been less religion and more politics. Mud-slinging and buying vote-banks, in the name of Ayodhya, has been a norm at every major political event. It has been nurtured by some of our leaders, to increase the bulge in their pockets. Why will they accept this verdict now? Of course, they will not go out and protest against the verdict. Does that mean they like it?

Taking advantage of the hype of the issue, a few objects of media have dug up the history of the issue. Apparently, this is not just a two-decade old issue, as most of us know it. It dates back centuries. One version I read said the start of the story is way back in the 11th century when Lord Rama was born in Ayodhya. There was a temple built in his honour, which was later demolished by a Mughal Emperor, who built a masjid there. A good 300 years later, that was demolished by a group of party workers and politicians led by L K Advani. A long, painful 20 years later, a verdict is given that Hindus and Muslims should share the land equally. And the 3rd party. Like a friend of mine tweeted, how do you divide 1 by 3 and get a whole number? Does each party get 0.333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333% of land?

Here are a few excerpts from people's views collected by the TOI group.  

Hindus are happy that the court has said they can have the land, they cannot see why they need to share it with the Muslims...

"The court has accepted historical facts and ruled on the basis of facts," said Nritya Gopal Das, president of the Shri Ram Janmabhoomi Nyas, the chief body in Ayodhya working towards the building of a temple on the site. "Every Hindu already knew in his heart that Ram lived here. Now the court has ruled that this is true," Das added. 

"When the court has ruled this is where Ram was born, what is the meaning of a one-third share for Muslims? The whole area is Ram's and we will go in appeal to the SC against the one-third given to the Sunni Waqf Board," Das said.

The Muslims cannot see why the Hindus need to be given any part of the land at all...

"Does all this mean that it was okay to tear down the Babri mosque? Why is the court deciding matters thousands of years old but ignoring matters 20 years old," asked 24-year-old Ashraf Ali (name changed on request), a resident of Ayodhya who works in a printing press in Faizabad.

It has not been accepted silently. The issue lives on. The only thing that has changed is probably the judge who retires today. He had to say something. He earned a good salary on the supposed verdict for a greater part of his career and when he had to leave, he told them to grow up and share it like good children. The saga continues. 

Chaya Chaya Everywhere

It has been a fairly popular joke since years ago and continues to be - There is no place in the Universe that you cannot find Mallus. You can go to the moon and have chaya where you get off your aircraft, for there will be a Mallu with his tiny chayakkada already there. 

As I travelled outside of India, I noticed the same about the 2 most populous countries in the world. Wherever you go, you find Indians and Chinese. As Rajesh Kootrapali says in The Big Bang Theory, "There are so many of them, they are everywhere!" 

It is unbelievable how many of us exist in every nook and corner of the world! This is in addition to the exploding population in their own respective countries. How did there come to be so many of us? Every friend of mine on Facebook is putting up pictures of their new-born babies and it worries me. No, not because I do not like babies. I love babies. I can't help wondering how we are going to manage so many more of us we are bringing into this world. 

After my 8k run today, I decided to sit in a nearby park for a while because the weather was so beautiful. I saw a few guys playing cricket and remembered what someone had once said to me, "If you see boys playing cricket in a park, rest assured they will be Indians". True to that statement, these guys were. Not just any Indians but mallus. I could not help laughing. About half a dozen guys with twice that number of kids. Enough said.

Two Poems by Tagore (P Coelho's Blog)

Originally written by Rabindranath Tagore, reproduced in Paulo Coelho's blog and now, again, by me.

Where the Mind is Without Fear

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection:
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is lead forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action–
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

What is anxiety playmate?

What is anxiety playmate? Playmate, what is agony?
You all say day and night ‘love, love’-
Tell me, playmate, what is love! Is it only torment?
It is only shedding tears? Is that only sorrow’s breathing?
Why then in what expectation of joy
People hopefully embrace such sorrow?

In my eyes all is handsome,
All fresh, all spotless, blue sky, darkgreen wood
Liberal moonlight, soft flower-every thing like me.
They only smile, only sing, wish to die after a sportive game-
knows no pain, knows no crying, above all kinds of agony.
Flowers laugh while they get shed, moonlight smilingly disappears,
In the sea of light the star, all smiles, does his form abandon.

Who is happy like me? Come playmate, come near to me-
The joyous song of a happy heart will feed your mind with solace.
If everyday you cry, why not laugh for a single day-
Forget all sadness for at least a day, let all of us sing together.

Rabindranath Tagore, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913.

Say Thanks To Me

I'm known for taking my time getting to the point, as is the case in most of my blogs. Keeping that in mind, I'll start off by making a note of something my mum said to me back home, every time I had to say goodbye to a certain phase of my life. Funnily enough, it was a thought that occurred to me but I dared not voice. 

"When you leave a place and go (after you've been in it for a while), the place seems to improve by leaps and bounds"

I am not sure whether that is a good thing or bad. I know it sounds like the place was just waiting for me to leave so it could make some progress. Like I was some kind of an obstruction to progress. However, there is another, deeper sense to it. I mean, if I had never been there, in the first place, the place would have continued to suck. Right? 

In 10 years of my school life, we never had sports or outdoor activities of any kind. Does one session for the girls, on 'periods', in the seventh (or was it eighth) standard count? It was in a classroom, by the way, so we won't count that. Getting back to the point, we never had anything that I read in books. Except in the penultimate year, when we had an awesome Sports Day. It was huge, for kids who had never seen anything of that sort all their lives (i.e. me and my friends who had been in that school ever since our parents found out we could vaguely identify the alphabet). The final year was "serious studies", of course, so no such thing happened. Thereafter, they have had Sports Day every year. School group photographs, albums and, in time, even a school magazine. Bloody hell!

Oh, how can I forget they refused to let us sing or dance to movie songs back then? Now, it's no problem at all. Tut-tut.

After graduation, I took up a couple of jobs and quit one for more money. In those days, the company I quit was not quite known to be the best paymaster. I loved the organization with all my heart but I had to put bread on the table and I had to move on. Someone told me when I was leaving, "If they ask you why you are leaving, just say the magic word "money" and the exit interview will be over in a poof". It's a different story that I was really leaving for money, but that was the joke that went around in those days. I quit. The following year, the pay-scales were raised and ever since, the hikes have been good, so have the bonuses. 

Let's not get superstitious here. It's got to be a coincidence. Of course!

Another job or two later, I moved inter-country. To experience a new culture, a new place and see what 'better standards of living meant' in comparison to living in a Third World Country. It has been fantastic until now and I cannot see why it cannot remain so. I was raving to my mum on Skype today, about the fabulous ride the husband and I did, with some friends, today and she tells me about new bike tracks being built back home. She watched it on TV, it's in the planning stage. No kidding! I wonder if the husband will want to stay here with me, now. 

I hung up the conversation after a few more minutes of my share of home, family and familiar culture. Just as I took a last swig of beer and headed to bath, my husband shouts out to me, "Have you seen the new rupee symbol yet?" Holy Shit! Talk about modernization! Talk about progress!

So, are we going to use a symbol instead of the abbreviation "Rs." from now on? We are going to be riding on bike tracks and not on dangerous roads through horrific traffic? This is just one of those big leaps, the little bits and bites of improvements have been going on for a while now, haven't they? Garbage collection, fly-overs, park improvements... to name just a few. I am thrilled! I can't wait to see what they turn my beautiful country into. And it will all be because of me. Yeah? A-ha!

I remember a friend telling me over phone yesterday, that when I return home, I might complain about a lot of things, having gotten used to my new home. I wonder about that now. I had refused to acknowledge that (like all Indians who leave home do). I think I will be proved right this time. As always! How would I not love my country with such a huge variety of cultures and now fighting ferociously for it's place in line with the 'modern world'? 

No matter what they say...

Queer Mr. Sevenraj

What is in a name? One of the most cliched questions. In my opinion it is the silliest too, because we all have found atleast one name to be fascinated about, at some point or the other. How many people would pick a random name for their children, without a second thought? Well, here is one man who named his 7th child, No. 7! How many of us have wanted or met some who wanted a different name because the given one was queer? No. 7 rationalizes the name his father has given him.

The story of Mr. SevenRaj goes like this... 

Note: I have picked up only the 'queer' bits of his story and left out his rags-to-riches life to the rest of the internet world to narrate. Google him up, if you care - there is none other by this name.

As the 7th child in the family, he was named No. 7 by his father, who wanted to name his children without any indication of their caste or religion (seven was what he could come up with?) He hails from Badagara in Kozhikode district of Kerala and when his family moved to Bangalore, his son's name was changed to Seven because the school refused to accept a number for the name. When Seven had to drop out of school. due to financial difficulties in the family, he started dabbling in films and added Raj to his name, as was the trend during those days. He has been SevenRaj ever since.

Continuing in his father's footsteps, he named his children IndiaRani and BharathRaja as a way of declaring that he did not care about the caste system and showing his patriotism to the country. Ahem!

This afternoon, I watched a show on one of the local channels. The studio was done up in red and white. Mr. SevenRaj and his family were being interviewed, all of them were dressed in red and white. What started off as a brand-building exercise for SevenRaj seems to have turned into an obsession as his efforts stretched to extremes. He only ever wears that colour combination and that is right from his innerwear down to his socks.  His suit, mobile, furniture, office, handkerchief, stationery are all red and white. His house is painted in red and white, so are his cars. He is proud of it. He explains how he has tried to create his identity using these colours. The late Tamil movie star MGR who was recognized by his famous dark glasses, Mahatma Gandhi is recognized by his glasses & bare torso with a white towel, so I had to do something similar to be recognized by one and all, he says. 

It does not stop there. He has a craze for the number 7 too. His mobile number ends with 77777. His first mobile number ended with the number 007. His blazer has 7 buttons and he speaks 7 languages (his native tongue being malayalam). 

He believes that he can change the world. While he claims he does a lot for the society by way of helping people, charities, donations to temples, he says the big thing is yet to come. It seems that he is expecting certain super-powers to come to him in the next 2 - 3 years, which will change his life and help him change the world. He does not know what it is, except that it may be some sort of a 7th sense (7 again!) but he knows for sure that it will happen.

I could not help but wonder if his family (wife and children) feel the same way about the colours and number. If not, what do they feel about his fetish? In a similar question asked by the host on TV, his wife Pushpa said that while she could be embarassed sometimes and does not understand his fixation, she is fine with it as he seems undeterred by what people have to say and he does a lot of good work too. His children are happy to let their father be but do not share the same excessive love for those colours or numbers. They both share his love for movies, though.

Queer as he might be, Mr. SevenRaj has come a long way from a boy born to a large, poor family with no money or job to a mobile real estate agent with a bungalow, a few cars, travels abroad and continues to draw attention with his flashy apparel. He is not embarassed by it. Instead, he is thrilled that people recognize him by it and elated with the attention he gets. He says his dream is being realized - he wanted to be famous and stand out in the crowd. In that red and white suit, he sure does!

SevenRaj - 7, Red & White everywhere

It reminds me of Scott Adams' recent posts on The Value of Attention and The Attention Contest. In my opinion, Seven is a clear winner!

Disclaimer: This blog post is a collection of facts from the show on TV, memories from an old newspaper article and a small post on the internet, interspersed with my fascination of the strangeness of it all. The views expressed are purely a personal expression of such fascination of an intriguing anecdote and not intended to take a dig at any person(s).

A Romance With Chaos by Nishant Kaushik

Why are all Indian English authors North Indians? No, I'm not complaining. It is just an observation. This is one of the better Indian authors I've read in English, though. The language is not bad. After reading numerous Indian English books and wanting to slam my head against the wall, this one is readable. Of course, it's nothing like when the native English write but hey...! Nishant uses a few 'big words' in his book but they are all  almost well-placed, so while they manage to overwhelm you a bit, they are not exactly obnoxious.

The story itself is another one of those. Sigh! All these writer boys want to talk about either (a) college life or (b) the world of IT (in the broad sense, covering BPOs, software, and anything that widely uses computers). The book has all the common ingredients - a job that the protagonist hates, a side-kick, some back-stabbing and reconciliation, more girls, someone has a wife, how the world that they live in (education/corporate job) sucks and a hospital scene chucked in for a bit of emotion. There is a bit of a deviation in the twists in the tale, thus making the book readable. Once readable, though. I read it and I chucked it.

Although I did say earlier that the language was not bad, there is something amiss with the grammar but it is hard to name it. I read it and I know it was written by an Indian. A North Indian, to be precise. That much of a give-away means that something is not perfect enough. Thankfully, it has been edited (unlike the last book I read). 

He leaves a string or two untied in the end, which is disappointing. As a writer, I would expect you to tell me what happens to each character in the story. 

I would not swear by the book. It is not one of my favourites. Nowhere close. Considering that he belongs to a different professional stream and has written a book by the side, he is definitely good. Not many of us can write something that others would want to read, let alone pay for it. 

My verdict: If you don't read it, you're not missing anything. If you do, it would not entirely be a time waster.

Nine On Nine by Nandita C. Puri

Front Cover Drawing by Khushwant Singh

A courier arrived yesterday morning, from Citibank, bringing me the book I had ordered in exchange for my reward points, many weeks ago. The moment I saw that it was a series of short stories and that the author was the wife of an Indian actor, I was put off. I am not so keen on reading short stories and I presumed that it might be another case of wannabe writing or the rich being able to publish anything they write. The appraisals by Shobaa De and Khushwant Singh or the foreword by Gulzar meant nothing to me. Of course, they were friends from the industry, what is the big deal?

After I finished reading A Case Of Exploding Mangoes, I picked up this book. I read the first story and was surprised to find it good. Then another and another, within an hour and some time later I had finished all the nine stories in the book. I would not recommend this as a great read. I might not have bought it if I had walked into a book store. It is not a worthless piece but I would read it only once. Priced at Rs.295, one is probably better off walking past the bookshelf. 

Nandita seems to have a fair command over the English language and a flair for writing that I have found lacking in so many Indian writers. However, the stories are nothing unusual. They are little narrations of events she may have seen in real life and she chose to tweak them a bit to make stories out of them. The stories towards the end of the book reduce in quality as compared to the earlier ones. The reviews, foreword and feedback all are from friends. I guess if I made a book of my blog posts or wrote a series of short stories based on events in my real life and had my close social circle appraise it for me, I could come up with something like this. I might not have priced it so high, though, my conscience would not allow me that!

It is not a book that would remain on my bookshelf. After I read it, I thrust it in the box that has the books I want to sell to a second-hand book store. Desperate to improve the quality of books I have been reading, I have now picked up Contest by Matthew Reilly as my next book. Let us see what it does to me...

Guest Post #1: A Trip To Kukke

It's been a frustrating week for my writing. I'm having my worst attack of writers' block. To top it, I am struggling with a bout of mood-swings that I just cannot seem to control. I want to break everything in my path and yank a few people's hair off their scalps. I've managed to pull through the day, keeping myself mostly subdued but a couple of my unfortunate dearest beloveds have had to suffer my hormonal maladies. I'm grateful to have them in my life and I hope that when I wake up tomorrow, they will still love me!

I've always wanted to have someone write a guest blog on Bumblebee Digest but it somehow never happened. Now seemed like a perfect time. Today turned out to be perfect. He had time on his hands, was looking for something to do and had not written in ages. When I suggested he do a guest blog for me, he was super-excited. Another of my friends I'm grateful to have in my life. 

Over to Karthik and his trip to Kukke...

A serene place close to the coastal town Mangalore in Karnataka, Kukke is known mostly for its Subramanya temple.

Wiki aside: Kukke Subrahmanya (Tulu/Kannada: ಕುಕ್ಕೆ ಸುಬ್ರಹ್ಮಣ್ಯ) This temple is one of the pristine pilgrimage locations in India. Here, Lord Subrahmanya is worshipped as the Lord of all Serpents. The epics relate that the divine serpent Vasuki & other serpents found safety under Lord Subrahmanya when apprehended by Garuda (Eagle).

After a lot of persuasion, I decided to accompany my brother-in-law (“Sir” is how I call him) to this temple town. I wasn’t looking for a good trip, not even an average one. But, I was ready for a new journey. One thing that worried me was that we were taking a train to Kukke and were to hop on a bus on our way back.

I absolutely love traveling, but, this somehow didn’t interest me much. It could be that I was not too keen on visiting holy places or it could just be that I would rather like to ride on a motor-bike all the way.

It was the previous week when I took my 346cc, 19.8bhp wonder called the “Enfield Thunderbird” for a 280 km round trip in a day. The one-day trip to Mysore was special for two things; Firstly, I was visiting that special person in my life after 3 months and secondly for the journey itself.

All said, I was ready to leave. Mom and I did some shopping that evening. Hmm, mom wanted me to buy new Ts and I got myself a nice Urban Yoga T and a Kurta free with that (I absolutely love the Kurta J). It was 18:45 when we came back home and my sister buzzes me to inform that I got to be at her place by 19:15 for dinner so that I can leave with “Sir” to the railway station. The train was scheduled to depart at 20:55. But, knowing Bangalore traffic, sis did not want any delay. I had to convince her that it should be fine if I reach there by 19:30. My sis, knowing my riding skills and my knowledge of Bangalore topography, was convinced.

I left home at 19:15 on my 125cc small wonder “Bajaj Wind 125”. As usual, the traffic was bad. But, I could just make it on time to my sis’s place. The dinner was readily served. A few idly and a cup of tea was enough for me. I suggested taking my bike to the Railway station to avoid the traffic and everyone agreed. We were there good 30 minutes before the departure.

I called on a few friends to tell them I was in Bangalore for the whole of the week and shall try to catch up with them. Then, of course I had to call up my special friend to let her know of my plans.

Train left the platform on time (these days it does leave on time). I couldn’t sleep till late so I decided to do some sight-seeing. It was a beautiful night, just one day after the full moon, the moon light shone on the river Cauvery and the leaves of plants and shrubs close to the railway track shining with a twinkle in the moon light was a sight to watch. While most of the co-passengers were enjoying a good night’s sleep, I was up until midnight enjoying the sight.

It was about 6:00 in the morning that I woke up and I could see “Sir” was already up and he was doing the same thing that I did the previous night. It was still pretty dark outside and the Western Ghats looked like a wonderland. About 10 minutes from the moment I woke up, the train was passing by a bridge and beneath the bridge I saw a rusted, damaged coach of train which has fallen there probably a few years ago. My thought immediately rushed to the scene of the accident and I felt a chill in my spine. How strange? We are not sure of what is in place the next moment and we still spend most of time amassing wealth whereas the nature has given us so much to watch and enjoy, yet we ignore those.

We reached the Subramanya station at about 6:45. I suggested that we take a stroll for a while and check out the place before we leave for Kukke (Kukke is about 15km from the Railway station). After a short stroll, we left for Kukke in a Rickshaw (they charge you 120 rupees). The Sun was out, and the place was humid. The road was narrow but was in a good condition. Nature was a treat to watch.

We reached Kukke and had a quick cup of coffee at “New Mysore Café”. Just as we exited the Café, a local came to us and referred a room @ Rs.150 for half a day. We thought, that is best suited for us. I had a quick bath and went out for another stroll, while “Sir” was getting ready. We then went to the famous Subramanya temple. The crowd was manageable and the architecture resembled that of Kerala temples. “Sir” suggested that we take a stroll to another temple close-by called the Adi Subramanya temple. On our way to the temple, we had to cross a bridge, beneath which the river Kumara Dhaara was flowing.

Breakfast time: I was hungry and wanted a quick bite somewhere. “Sir” said that the temple served a good break fast. Unfortunately, the temple did not serve it for everyone L We then decided to return to the Mysore Café. I like to taste local savories everywhere I go; though it is only vegetarian (I am a veggie). Since, this part of Karnataka is famous for Buns I ordered some Buns for myself and “Sir” followed suit. It was not enough for us and so we ordered for some Khara Baath. Umm, the food was yummy. I am always high on caffeine, I needed a bit more of it and ordered a coffee as well. Way to go!! I thought.

Another stroll was required after the breakfast and I suggested taking the path that was towards the forest. The huge canopy of leaves overhead and the cute bird calls of unknown birds was another one of nature’s treats that was waiting for me to take.

We then paid another visit to Subramanya temple and I waited as “Sir” enquired at the temple’s administration office and I waited for another 2 hours watching the pilgrims and tourists alike. Believe me! It is fun watching people and their actions too.

The time came for a quick lunch and exit from Kukke. Our KSRTC Rajahamsa bus was scheduled to depart at 14:45. We were sitting in the bus a good 15 minutes before departure just to avoid the heat. Had a bit of fun, when a co-passenger misunderstood two friends to be couples and was not prepared to apologize but in-turn said that they will make a good couple and it would happen soon. The funny co-passenger learnt that the two friends were doctors working for a renowned hospital and our man has his comments for that as well!!! He started swearing at doctors and hospitals in general. Shocking character, he was. The old funny man slept in a while and the rest of the journey wasn’t as memorable.

The journey as such was memorable and I will be glad to visit the place again…

I have not edited the content so that the author's style and the flow of thought is preserved. 

Now that I've finally had a guest blogger, it seems like a brilliant idea. It breaks the monotony of my rambling and adds variety to my blog. I've decided to make this The Guest Blogger Week on Bumblebee Digest. If you want to be a guest on my blog, leave me a comment or email me. 

Breaking News

There were days when TV channels had the 'news hour' set aside every morning and evening, to update us with what was going on in the world around us. The local channels had a half-hour local news with headlines from the rest of the world. At a specified time, the news would go on for an hour, with more detailed national and/or world news. News-Readers (as they were called back then) dressed in a saree or suit and started off with a 'Namaskar'. The actual news session was preceeded by a few seconds of 'start-up' mostly consisting of music in the background, while the ying-yang-like symbol of 'The News' bounced and somersaulted across the screen.

Back in those days, when one heard "Breaking News", it usually meant that there was something so urgent and important that it had to be announced right away. It could not wait for the designated 'news hour'. It was news that would break through the ceiling, come crashing down over every other news or program on television. It had to be BIG and would most likely be bad too.

When the 9/11 happened, I remember being glued to the TV all day, watching the BREAKING NEWS. When my uncle called me from a village in Kerala, where there was no TV, I remember telling him there was BREAKING NEWS! We had been on phone for an hour, while I gave him a running commentary from the scenes that were continuously appearing on TV, almost ad-lib-ing the news reader.

Cut to present. We have 24-hr news channels. There's one in every local language and atleast 3 English news channels. No surprise, therefore, that there is cut-throat competition. How different can they get? The big news are big news and they can only relay what is happening in the real world. Yet, if one has to be ahead in the competition, something different needs to be done.

So, they sensationalize news - big and urgent ones, small and unimportant ones, sometimes even non-descript ones. As a result, every news has become "Breaking News". Switch on the TV at any time of the day and these channels have news scrolling at the bottom, flashing at the bottom, journalists at the scene & inside the studio speaking fast with excitement in their voice. When there isn't enough news to carry on for the entire day, they have repeats. If you missed a piece of news in the last hour, do not worry. Keep watching, it'll show up again in the next few minutes. 

As if that weren't enough, in a desperate bid to be different, they even call the 'Breaking News' by different names. Flash News, Big News, Just In, What Is In The News, etc.

Unfortunately, when there is a freak event, they have nothing else to call it. That goes under the same name - depending on the channel, it could be one or more of the above. There is nothing to differentiate the actual 'Big News' from the trivia like Kathryn Bigelow winning 6 Oscars against her ex-husband James Cameron who won only 3. The 'Just In' news need not necessarily be "just in" - this afternoon, the same news-line scrolled for about 30 minutes and was called 'Just In'.

As fillers, they also have panels of famous people discussing the issue in question, most of the time drawing no conclusions in the end. No surprise there. It is merely a bunch of people voicing their opinion. The law-makers and keepers are busy either fighting fires or hiding. The only people watching are more of the ones who can do nothing except to listen to others and speculate within their own limitations.

One particular news channel (and journalist) I used to admire greatly has now turned into more of a commercial venture. Watching this news channel is like watching a movie channel. From times when I believed everything that was on the news, I've come to realize that I cannot watch the news without taking in the updates with a pinch of salt (actually, a handful of salt).

Republic Day Recap

Courtesy Taj Online  http://festivals.tajonline.com/republic-day.php

    26th January 1950 is one of the most important days in Indian history as it was on this day the constitution of India came into force and India became a truly sovereign state. In this day India became a totally republican unit. The country finally realized the dream of Mahatma Gandhi and the numerous freedom fighters who, fought for and sacrificed their lives for the Independence of their country. So, the 26th of January was decreed a national holiday and has been recognized and celebrated as the Republic Day of India, ever since.

    Today, the Republic Day is celebrated with much enthusiasm all over the country and especially in the capital, New Delhi where the celebrations start with the Presidential to the nation. The beginning of the occasion is always a solemn reminder of the sacrifice of the martyrs who died for the country in the freedom movement and the succeeding wars for the defense of sovereignty of their country. Then, the President comes forward to award the medals of bravery to the people from the armed forces for their exceptional courage in the field and also the civilians, who have distinguished themselves by their different acts of valour in different situations.

   To mark the importance of this occasion, every year a grand parade is held in the capital, from the Rajghat, along the Vijaypath. The different regiments of the army, the Navy and the Air force march past in all their finery and official decorations even the horses of the cavalry are attractively caparisoned to suit the occasion. The crème of N.C.C cadets, selected from all over the country consider it an honour to participate in this event, as do the school children from various schools in the capital. They spend many days preparing for the event and no expense is spared to see that every detail is taken care of, from their practice for the drills, the essential props and their uniforms.

    The parade is followed by a pageant of spectacular displays from the different states of the country. These moving exhibits depict scenes of activities of people in those states and the music and songs of that particular state accompany each display. Each display brings out the diversity and richness of the culture of India and the whole show lends a festive air to the occasion. The parade and the ensuing pageantry is telecast by the National Television and is watched by millions of viewers in every corner of the country.

   The patriotic fervor of the people on this day brings the whole country together even in her essential diversity. Every part of the country is represented in occasion, which makes the Republic Day the most popular of all the national holidays of India.

Courtesy wikipedia  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Republic_Day_(India)

The Republic Day of India marks the anniversary of the adoption of the Constitution of India and the transition of India from a British Dominion to a republic on January 26, 1950.

Although India obtained its independence on August 15, 1947, it did not yet have a permanent constitution; instead, its laws were based on the modified colonialGovernment of India Act 1935, and the country was a Dominion, with George VI as head of state and Earl Mountbatten as Governor General. On August 29, 1947, the Drafting Committee was appointed to draft a permanent constitution, with Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar as chairman.

A draft Constitution was prepared by the committee and submitted to the Assembly on November 4, 1947. The Assembly met, in sessions open to public, for 166 days, spread over a period of 2 years, 11 months and 18 days before adopting the Constitution. After many deliberations and some modifications, the 308 members of the Assembly signed two hand-written copies of the document (one each in Hindi and English) on January 24, 1950. Two days later, the Constitution of India became the law of all the Indian lands. The Constitution of India came into effect only on January 26, 1950, 10.18 AM IST. Following elections on January 21, 1950,Rajendra Prasad was elected as the president of India. The Indian National Congress and other parties had been celebrating January 26th as a symbol of Independence, even before India actually became independent. Thus, signing the constitution on January 26, to mark and respect January 26 and the freedom struggle and the freedom fighters.

Granville Austin has described the Indian Constitution drafted by Ambedkar as 'first and foremost a social document.' ... 'The majority of India's constitutional provisions are either directly arrived at furthering the aim of social revolution or attempt to foster this revolution by establishing conditions necessary for its achievement.'

The amending mechanism was lauded even at the time of introduction by Ambedkar in the following words: "We can therefore safely say that the Indian federation will not suffer from the faults of rigidity or legalism. Its distinguished feature is that it is a flexible federation.

"The three mechanisms of the system derived by the Assembly, contrary to the predictions, have made the constitution flexible at the same time protected the rights of the states. They have worked better than the amending process in any other country where Federalism and the British Parliamentary system jointly formed the basis of the constitution"

What Sir Anthony Eden, the Prime Minister of Britain (April 1955 to January 1957), said at the time of the emergence of Indian Republic is relevant in this context. He said, ‘Of all the experiments in government, which have been attempted since the beginning of time, I believe that the Indian venture into parliamentary government is the most exciting. A vast subcontinent is attempting to apply to its tens and thousands of millions a system of free democracy... It is a brave thing to try to do so. The Indian venture is not a pale imitation of our practice at home, but a magnified and multiplied reproduction on a scale we have never dreamt of. If it succeeds, its influence on Asia is incalculable for good. Whatever the outcome we must honour those who attempt it. Even more meaningful was the opinion expressed by an American Constitutional authority, Granville Austin, who wrote that what the Indian Constituent Assembly began was ‘perhaps the greatest political venture since that originated in Philadelphia in 1787.’

"During recent years, it has become fashionable among some citizens to disparage the founders and their document. These individuals disappointed by the developments in the country since 1950, have called for changing the constitution explaining that it has not 'worked'. Such thinking, in my view, is misguided. Constitutions do not 'work', they are inert, dependent upon being 'worked' by citizens and elected and appointed leaders"

It is one of the three national holidays in India

My Republic Day

My brother and I would wake up sleepy-eyed at 6AM on a holiday, sleep-walk to the bathroom and dress up in white or green or saffron (so yeah, white) to attend the flag-hoisting at the playground in our colony. It's been a regular event ever since I can remember... school days, work-days (I lived elsewhere during my college days) until we moved out of the colony last year.

While most people don't seem to exactly 'celebrate' Republic Day, it's good to see that there are a few colonies that still do it. A colleague of mine mentioned celebrations that included little kids getting cute little Indian flags, a parade by the 25 watchmen in their huge apartment complex, etc. The one I'm talking about is nothing compared to that. We hoist the flag at 7.15AM sharp (the president of the resident's welfare associate does), one of the ladies distributes sweets. There's breakfast, sports/games for kids and parents, lunch, cultural programs in the evening and finally dinner. It's fun to live in colonies with lots of houses but not so many that it becomes a little city of it's own. I miss that. But then, I miss the grounds and the clean locality too. I digress again!

Back to Republic Day celebrations. I drove mum & dad to the colony (as ex-president, dad was a 'special guest'). What was different this year? The ladies decided that they wanted to take the centre stage, so when the flag hoisting was about to start, there was a group of ladies totally amused to watch the confused men wondering where to stand, for their place was taken. One of the women proudly announced that we'd pushed the men aside and taken the lead. The litle joys of life. Guess this was her moment. The president arrived, in a suit (whoa!) at 7.30AM (big crime, we always do 7.15AM on the dot)... the women-folk were getting restless and unhappy at the lack of punctuality. As most people that come under the category of 'big people' in government offices go, the president merely unfurled the flag but didn't exactly put in an effort to get it in a position that it would wave in the wind. One of the other men had to do it after him. Duh!

Usually, we would start off with the National Anthem. Our lady, Mrs. Akhila, started singing Vande Mataram, so the rest of us had to follow suit. She wanted to end the National Song with 'Vande Mataram' chanted thrice. Okay lady, you got it. That was followed by the National Anthem. Thank God for these Republic & Independence day celebrationss, I can still get both these right, unlike a lot of Indians I know *wink* *wink*

The president yelled "Bharat Mata Ki" and the chorus ended it with a "Jai". Then "Vande Mataram" chanted a couple of times and now the audience wanted him to 'say a few words'. If I were in his place, I'd go blank. Imagine being unprepared, an audience wanting you to speak on the occasion of Republic Day, at 7.30 in the morning! I was desperately trying to remember which anniversary it was. 61st. The man just took off and spoke for over 5 minutes. Republic Day, love for the country, greateness of people... oh dear, how do they do that? That's one thing about these KEB guys, I've noticed... they can talk. Anyplace, anytime, anything about. No English, all Kannada. Brilliant. I mean, the speech was okay but the impromptu was good, the language was good.

Breakfast from Shrinidhi Sagar, as always. Idly-Vada with sambar and coconut chutney, Kesaribath and tea. No coffee. Sigh! I am a coffee person. Enjoyed breakfast. Wished I could have another vada but I was really full. While mum & dad caught up with old friends from the colony, I decided to sit in the car and read for a while. I ended up watching a few kids play. It looked like fun. A new game. Never played that before. One boy from the group throws a ball up in the air and the guy who is "out" runs to where it drops off. The other guys run as far away from the ball as they can but have to turn into statues the moment the 'out' guy finds the ball and yells "STOP!". Then he picks one guy from the group (I'm guessing the guy closest to him), who remains a statue and the rest of the group crowds around the guy who was picked. The 'out' guy throws the ball in the direction of the group and whoever the ball hits is now "OUT". The ex-out guy throws the ball up in the air, the new 'out' guy runs after it and the rest run away from it... and it continues in a never-ending game.

Nothing like the lagori of our days but well, kids these days are lot delicate, I guess. As long as they didn't break the glass of my car, I was happy. After a few minutes of watching some of the kids crowding around my car and the 'out' guy trying to fling the ball at them, I decided that the stress wasn't worth it and dragged my parents back home. I just had to get my car out of there. I had work to get done, at home.

It's afternoon now, I'd better go wish dad while it's still his birthday. It always seems to get buried in the bigger celebrations of the bigger events of Republic Day. Poor dad. The husband's got a chocolate cake, which might have been cut and eaten at midnight if dad hadn't slept by then, if bro did not have to run a marathon this morning and the husband himself didn't have a long ride planned. Cake still waits. Yummm, the thought of chocolate cake in the refrigerator is making me hungry...