Violence has no religion

Case 1

Rakesh, a friend, was driving from Moradabad to Delhi on the eve of Moharram. He stopped by a Muslim village where a taazia was being taken. Out of the blue, a mob decided to attack the cavalvcade of cars waiting ofr it to pass. Swords were drawn, Allah-hu-akbar was scremed, babies wailed. Some of the fieriest participants seemed to be the 8-9 year olds. Ultimately, it was a posse of 8 policemen who had the balls to charge a 150 strong mob with lathis that saved his life.

Case 2

I2 was attacked on the eve of Dr. Rajkumar's death. Again, half the mob consisted of 8-9 year olds. Some English-speaking employees were roughed and some cars broken.

Case 3


I was in Commercial Street on Sunday when the RSS decided to counter a Muslim rally on Friday by their own show of strength. I passed rows of shops with broken windows till I finally chanced on the perpetrators still breaking some more. Till then, I didn't know whether they were Muslims, Hindus, Dalits, Kannidigas, whatsoever. I was shocked by the cool efficiency with which they applied their violence. Buses on buses pored, their saffron flags finally revealing the identity of the violators of the day to me, and activists from villages came out to make a field day.


Can any one single segment claim innocence over acts of daily violence that are unleashed on innocent passerbys?
We are a country of more violence than non-violence.
Division - religion/caste/regional - are mere excuses.

Pursuit of happiness

this thought follows 4 threads-

1. My ongoing thinking regarding happiness since almost a couple of years
2. Readings from Bertrand Russel and general philosophy
3. Recent visits to friends in Delhi and Lucknow
4. A play I saw last nigh

Last things first.
Anish, a theater veteran in Bangalore, performed a 1-act adaptation of dostovoesky's "Dreams of a ridiculous man" last night at CFD. The premise was that the madman had a dream of a simple world that he corrupts by his very presence and gets branded a madman. I won't comment on the performance but the script. Specifically, a point -
Today, knowledge of happiness is more important than happiness itself.

It caught me as it followed a train of thought I was on.

During recent visits, some pals protested or philosophised their happiness to me. even I do that to myself now.

But there was an age when happiness was unthinking, unconscious.

I still get moments of pure exhilerating happiness now also. But now, always, I am conscious of the elation and the euphoria.

Why?

Back!

Udaipur, Lake Pichola, Shot with 30 sec exposure from atop Rainbow restaurant


In the past two weeks, I have travelled across three states and met bosom friends after years. I am feeling totally relaxed and, for once, the weight of the world and my own role in that, does not weigh me down.

Rajasthan was an experience taht would last a lifetime. Thanks to my two brothers-in-law (though I have still not attested the legality with any lawyer) I got to see almost the whole of it. Jodhpur-Udaipur-Jaisalmer-Pushkar-Ajmer-Jaipur.

The only thing that remains is the Ranthambore Tiger Sanctuary and a propah Desert safari.

I have clicked like crazy during the trip and would post the best when I have the courage to dive into that humongous dump on my laptop.

I missed all you a lot. Seriously. Had a great Xmas (my younger brother-in-lawis of the Catholic persuasion) this eyar.

Till then, Happy new year!

The incredible dumbness of being

One of my friends is getting married and e sent me his foto along with the would-be. The would-be was dressed in a traditional sari with all the jewels bedecknig her torso and even some sparles on her face.
She was a woman. A full-grown woman.
This unsettles me a bit. As much as a kid callnig me an uncle.
At 28, I still feel very young. My concept of girls is still the - backslapping, beer-mugs clinking and making-out in the back seats of an empty cinema hall- kind . A woman overwhelms me.

Every day I perhaps become more bitter or wiser (or probably both are the same thing), but there is this restlessness taht refuses to settle down. Inspite of the fact that each passing day makes the fact of my ultimate non-impact more obvious. But somewhere I still feel the fire. The only thing holding me back, and perhaps a generation is -
1. the fear of poverty (no matter how rich some pals are making it, I still feel this underlying fear very strongly, esp. in friends coming from middle class bkgrnd. )
2. unwarranted peer pressure (esp. strong for those graduating from "premier" institutes
3. the kind of unreal, hyper-hyped, over-paid corp. work taht we do that alienates us from true human reality and art

I see this gonig only two ways.

Either I will leave my MBA career and do something in the next couple of years.
Or, I will push my head deeper into the grinder and die silently.

A moment passes
An energy drains off
I sigh
I think it's gonig to be the latter

Cruel Intentions

Of all the shitload of teen movies to come out in the recent years, it is this adaptation of "Dangerous Liasons" that has interested me. The film revolves around the amoral duplicity in the lives of super-rich kids and their games.
See it if you stil haven't. Nice treatment and an amazingly good-looking cast.

What lies beneath

I can never be a "great" man. I am a terrible listener. My ears only prick at the unusual. A man tellnig me 10 great places to invest in tomorrow so that I can reap 100% a week afterwill lose me. But if he mentions just a little about a friend who shits standing up, I am all ears.

Since childhood, my fascination has been two fold - stories and the people in those stories. I like seeing people. The way they move, scratch and mutter. I discovered this when a friend from school met me last month and told me this. In IIMB, I had a guy named Anurag Hans sitting next to me and he followed the same interest. We had a whale of a time discussing why everybody wore the clothes they had worn to the class then, which of the guy might turn out to be a wife-beater, dear old Vibhor Kumar and other odd topics.

Now that I have started clicking a few, I find that it's again people that interest me. Caught unawares. I hate getting fotografed and fotografing people striking a pose. A digitalSLR gives me the freedom of keep on clicking till the person drops the pose and gets oblivious to my antics and gives me something more soulful.

Here is a collage of people who have interested me in the past 2 months and whom I have clicked.

Top - San, Nilanjan, San, Srijit, Prachi, Me (clicked accidentally)
Middle - Prachi, Prachi, Ronjon Da, the very handsome and very young Raheem, my favorite subject - Rajeev
Bottom - San, Vibhas, Gulshan, Tara, Vibhas, Tammy

The need to be seen

A friend who professes to be above base-human desires and hubris (if this was not pride itself!), inadvertently let his slip show yesterday. We were discussing a celebrity and not very flattering at that. My friend told me that he'd met this start once and, with a touchof pride, had a photograph clicked enselmble.

I've met some celebrities also. And tho' I don't live in the shadow of those events, I still wonder - that did they affect me even for a little while thereafter? Did I feel elated by an aura of celebrityhood (the phenomenon of strangers pointing and gaping at you from across the street instead of just ignoring you) experienced second-hand? Did I make more of a casual meeting with a comedian who rarely makes me laugh, a thspian who does, a singer who brays just because the no. of people knowing the guy-girl outratioed those konwing me by a factor of 10000:1?

Another seemingly related point. Since I have started clicking strangers, I find the ratio of people interested in getting fotografed to those indifferent to be huge. Sometimes with an enthusiasm which is difficult to explain since it's very clear that they're never even going to see the foto.

Why do we all have this craving, this need to be noticed?

Bheemeshwari

of


Got up at 6:30 and biked with Vikram to Bheemeshwari. Went along the unbelievably potholed Helagur road but returned by Sathnur which, tho' not exactly the cheeks of Hema Malini, is a far better approach to the place.

Had breakfast of Idlis and tea at Kanakpura along the way.

Reaching Bheemeshwari photographed some monkeys and then came across a langar around a temple construction. Despite the full stomach, the pulyogiri offered in banana leaves relit the appetite :).

After taht took a dip at the brook. Lots of local kids who offered some interesting snapping opportunities.
Caught some silk farmers on the return trip. You can see the worm in the foto taht has just finished spinning its web. The farmer gave us some fresh coccoons and asked us to dip them in boiling overnite for the silk. Otherwise, the moth would emerge in a few days. You could feel the worm burrowing inside. Could not do it. So gave mine to Vikram.

Vikram is a very special friend. We don't share any past. Just the French and these trips. No chips on the shoulders, just good times.

I think I am independent enough now to not need shoulders to cry on and ears to confide in. I just want to have a good time and intelligent conversation.

In the evening, Manju dropped by with that cute 5 year old Nabbu. San's bday was on and so went to Chandni Chowk - San, Prachi, Tammy, Manju, Nabbu and me. Nabbu told em about some friend of his and I pulled his little legs a little as I asked in all mock-seriousness whether he was sure he was a friend and not just a casual acquaintance. Had he tested the mettle of the so-called friendship yet?

Nice end to a lovely day.

The world - according to the media

http://cricket.expressindia.com/fulleistory.php?type=ei&content_id=77520

Kolkata erupted in protest over Greg Chappell's comments against Indian MPs, with demonstrators burning the coach's effigy and demanding that he be sacked immediately. At Kalighat in the southern part of the city, around 30-35 members of 'Cricket Lovers Association' raised slogans against the Australian coach saying he has insulted not only the Indian MPs but also the entire nation.


30-35 people make Kolkata.
That means if I collect the three floors of my apartment building (each floor housing 4 flats) and protest against, say, women being allowed to drive cars, I can claim to speak for an entire city of only a few millions.

This from Indian Express.

Had a short theatre thingee yesterday night at Hotel Ista. Just a small playlet prepared for a corporate audience. Kanchan was also playing a part. Directed by Arka. Just for the heck of it. Tho' had a verrrry delicious apricot filled chicken breast as a result. One of the best dishes I have ever tasted.
Yesterday, in the noon was caught in the rains, after dining with Firoza Vikram and Arvind, at Brigade Road. Had gone to get a UV filter for the camera. Quite an interesting subject lay before and clicked a few.


Today, I did nothing. Decidedly so :). San and Prachi did go to see a Hindustani classical music concert but ditched coz it would have taken more than 6 hours. Wanted time just with myself. But Vibhas and later N Singh dropped in. Didn't mind it :). Clicked some snaps with Vibhas on the terrace.
Vibhas is still trying to get into too many things at once.

Bertrand Russell describes 3 levels of unhappy people. One of them is the Narcissus - one who is obsessed with himself and does stuff because the end looks good to him. But he hasn't thot about the process of getting there or rather just not the route but not the perseverance and tribulation that goes into achieving.