Now I can go in peace

In the entire 38 years of my life, I have very little memory of 'living' with Dad.  The divorce in the early 80's between Mom and Dad happened at a time when I was too young to comprehend the gravity of such events.

It wasn't until the year 2008 till an opportunity presented itself for a small albeit important family reunion of sorts. I remember the entire episode vividly and down to the last word. Dad had recently undergone a Heart bypass surgery and his live-in partner had to leave town for a few days to attend to some personal matters. The Doctors had made it clear that at any cost he was not to stay alone. Such situations had presented themselves before and on most occasions, he would stay with one of his Brothers i.e one of my Uncles. This time something was amiss. He had mentioned to me sometime back that he didn't to be a burden on anyone so he had decided not to stay with anyone. He was happier alone. The feeling of discomfort was very evident on his face. I didn't bother asking him if anything went wrong between him and his siblings simply because it wasn't my question to ask. Dad and I had that kind of relationship. We were always there for each other but we lived our own lives and didn't pry into each other's. I did ask him a question, though. And it took him totally by surprise.

"Why don't you stay with us (Mom and Me) until she comes back?", I asked him as directly as I could. He looked at me. Then he looked away without uttering a word. I repeated my question, "Dad, why don't you stay with us?" He looked at me again and this time he spoke, " No, No, No, I can't do that. What will Sheila think? It's been far too long. I don't know how it will turnout". I said, " There's nothing of that sort. Just come!" . He wouldn't have any of it. Then, reluctantly and hesitantly, he said " Why don't you speak to her once? Don't tell her you're here with me." , I smiled and waved my hand sideways, " No Dad, I will dial the number, you talk to her". He froze for a second and then vehemently refused. " It's much too awkward for me, Olly. If she says no, I won't be able to handle it". " She won't, I can assure you of that",  I confidently replied. "How do you know? Have you already spoken to her about this?" He asked. The hope of an affirmative reply was very evident in his tone. " Nope, how could I ask her when it's you who needs to. I'm dialing her number now, talk to her". He sat next to me nervously as he heard the phone ring. "Hi, bolo!" was Mom's typical response whenever she answered my call. " Yo Mumzee, I'm sitting here with Dad! He wants to have a word with you", I placed the phone on Dad's palm. " Hello, Sheila?" he said softly. It was the first time I heard him speak so softly. Over the years, Mom and Dad had maintained a very cordial relationship. We had celebrated all birthdays, auspicious events together despite they being divorced. He was particularly worried about Mom after my Grandmom had passed away. She was, after all, Mom's pillar of support. After her demise, he made it a point to check on her every now and then. Sometimes he would drop by with fruits (he was brilliant in choosing the best fruits), sometimes sweets, sometimes just like that.But rarely did he speak so softly.

"Hi Shravan, how's it going?" She replied in her usual chirpy yet commanding voice. "I'm good, how are you?', he replied. She said she was fine and went straight to the point as only she could, " You wanted to have a word with me?" she enquired. "Umm, well, yes! I did. Olly and I were chatting. As you know, I might have to stay alone for a few days but my Doctor has said I shouldn't...".Before he could complete his sentence, Mom interrupted " Shravan, come home and stay with us as long as you please". He went quiet. He was too stunned to react. I gave him a victorious smirk. " Are you sure, Sheila", he asked in disbelief. " She said, "When do you want to come?", was her answer. " I'll come tomorrow morning, and thanks so much!!!"

I told him I'd pick him up in the morning and left with a grin on my face. I knew my Mom better than anyone else, and she knew him as well as she had 3 decades ago. AS I left, at the door, he asked me," I hope I'm not going to be a burden on you two".  I said " See you tomorrow morning, Dad"

The next morning, he was ready. I've always known Dad to be very punctual. He was dressed in his usual Lacoste T-shirt and casual trousers. Not a crease on either. He had his bag packed along with a small handbag. "My medicines," he said patting the side of the bag. The drive was very short as he lived only minutes away from our place. As we took the elevator, he seemed a little nervous but he composed himself. It had been nearly 25-years since they lived under the same roof. Surely, this was a moment for both of them to be nervous. If Mom was nervous, she never showed it. The previous evening, she and I discussed what we needed to be in place for him. She seemed fully aware of what was in store for us and seemed least hassled or worried.

When we entered our home, she gave a big smile accompanied by a very friendly "Hi". I think that moment was priceless. He smiled back and said "Hi" but the relief was more than abundant on his face. He was home. He knew it. We ushered him into his room and saw to it that everything was in place. We left him to unwind in 'his room' . Shortly, he emerged from the room and joined us in the living room where Mom and I were having a casual chat. He joined in and we continued chatting for hours.

The next three days, we would laugh together at some of the ridiculous things each of us experienced. He would frequently invade our DVD library and ask about movies. He would take charge of a lot of things including giving tips on how to cook only to be admonished out of the kitchen. I remember him being very appreciative of the food he had and even more so because Mom would cook especially for him. And she did it happily.  They did talk abut certain incidents that widened the rift between them but they did so as mature adults. Mom was particularly dismissive of many of these incidents. Too much water has flown under the bridge, she would say. He felt guilty and often wondered why he wasn't so mature.

Three days flew past. He grew more and more relaxed, He would often enter the kitchen and make tea for Mom in the evening, sit and cut onions at the table, iron his clothes and volunteer to iron my t-shirts as well. He would hum some of his favourite songs by Rafi and Kishore. He would always take his plate into the kitchen and wash it himself much to the chagrin of Mom and Me. He would come out of the kitchen and grin widely saying, " I'm used to cleaning my own plate".  On the eve of the third day, late in the evening, after a phone call that he received, presumably from his partner, he came out to the living room and sat with us. "I'll be going back tomorrow!". Mom and I looked at each other and then looked at him. She smiled," Okay".  We continued to chat till it was 10pm- his bed time.

The next morning, he came out of his room.As always, he was dressed in his trademark attire - A lacoste t-shirt, casual trousers, usually beige, and neatly ironed. His bag had been packed along with the handbag. The three of us took the elevator down to the parking lot and as he sat in the car, Mom said " You know you're welcome to come and stay at anytime". He smiled and gave her a hug. No tears, no melodrama, no fancy words. Just a hug. He sat in the car and waved out to her and said ' Thanks a lot, Sheila! I'll always remember that." We drove out of our apartment complex. The journey was ,again, short. As we walked into his apartment, I placed his bag in his room. It was time for me to go to work. As I was about to leave, I asked him " Dad, why don't you move in with us? It was so much fun having you around!" He smiled and said, " Olly, I only needed these three days with Sheila and You. Now I can go in peace." I never really comprehended what he meant to say. Little did I know that just a few months later, he suffered a stroke which sent him into a coma and eventually took his life. Had I known, I would've probably forced him to stay back. But that is the glorious yet tragic uncertainty of Life. I know he lives on in our hearts but those three days will always remain the most cherished memories I had with him. 

All hail Simba -The King of the Jungle

'Rule Number 1: If a Lion wants to kill you, then it doesn't matter if you're inside a tent, he'll find his way in. The tents are strong but they wont withstand a Lion attack', said Saad Bin Jung in his typical nonchalant way during our Day 1 briefing. His company - Africa Under Canvas, is dedicated to providing travelers the ultimate experience of Africa and its wilderness. But what do I do if a Lion does come close enough to my tent for me to freak out?, I asked him rather anxiously.   'Stay in the tent no matter what happens. Don't do anything stupid and keep your movements to the bare minimum. If you're lucky, he'll just walk away!!!' , were his clear instructions. Right! Got that! Shouldn't be too difficult to follow such clear instructions. When I checked into my tent, I noticed a long but blunt blade was kept by the bed. A weapon, I guessed. Not sure how useful it would be but I sure as hell wasn't dying to find out.

Except for the first night, my four nights at the Ndutu Plains of the Serengeti were rather peaceful. The first night was all about acclimatising myself to the wild and weird noises of the Jungle. Insects, Birds, Hyenas; make no mistake, the Jungle is teeming with life throughout the night. I had a hard time falling asleep as the slightest brush against my tent would have me clutching my blunt weapon. Could it be a Lion, after all they are known to be active during the night? Could it be a Hyena? A Zebra, maybe? Wilderbeest?

By the time it was morning, I was convinced that half of the Serengeti had paid me a visit. My fellow campers were quite amused but not surprised by my pithy narration. I felt deprived of an adventure when Saad's son, Shaaz, summarily dismissed the entire experience by saying ' Relax dude, there weren't any Lions, Hyenas or any other animal at the campsite last night. It was only wind'. If this was what wind could do to me, then I shudder to think what a REAL visit from a wild animal could do!!! And I didn't have to wait long before that happened.

 After spending four nights at the Ndutu Plains, it was time to move camp to the Grasslands of Seronara. Dramatically different from the plains, the Seronara region of the Serengeti is popular for Leopard sightings and of course, Lions. At the briefing, it was reiterated to us that the grasslands form a perfect setting for ambush attacks and that we were never to go to or come from our tents unaccompanied. We were also reminded that just a couple of weeks ago, at this very camp, a pride of Lions surrounded the campers in the night while they were dining out in the open. The camp was to be disbanded the next morning so the crew started dismantling some of the tents the previous night. The dinner tent was one of them. It was, apparently, one of the scariest moments in their lives as the Lions closed in one by one from different directions.  They were chased away by the Guides who managed to sprint across and into the cars. Lions don't like the revving of engines and tend to run away when they hear it. The Guides chased them far enough for the camp to be safe for the rest of the night. As a safety measure, however, the cars were parked right in front of the tents. If the Lions returned, the cars would be just a few steps away.

Since then, there were no visits from Lions that would become a hot topic of discussion until that night. At around twilight, while being accompanied to my tent I asked one of the locals if there had been any Lion sightings near our camp in the past day or two. He gave a gentle smile and said,'This his Jungle, he come, he go when he wants!' As I sat alone in my tent, I looked around as the Moon slowly but surely made its presence felt. I said to myself, yup, this is his forest alright. We are the visitors, and hopefully, it'll stay that way.  I couldn't help thinking about how we humans have decimated life on this planet.

 At dinner there were some entertaining conversations with Saad, Shaaz, and some of the other campers. Saad is a very knowledgeable man who has great experiences to share. From being a prodigal talent which led him to make a memorable cricketing debut against fast-bowling greats like Malcolm Marshall, to his battle against a life-threatening illness, to his drastically different tryst with destiny as a  Wildlife conservationist, to his blue-blooded family lineage, Saad can keep you both engrossed and entertained for hours. A couple of hours later, I tucked myself into bed after a sumptuous meal (Potato and Peas curry! Indian breads! Rice! What else can one ask for!!!). I was recollecting the events of the day as I fell into deep slumber.

At approximately 1.30am, I was woken up by a deep-throated growl. It was emanating just a few feet away from my tent.At first, I decided to disregard it. A few seconds later,the growl returned. This time it was louder and closer. I didn't dare move or make a noise. I knew  by now that this most certainly wasn't the wind. We weren't alone. Something was out there and it was quite big.  I held my duvet tightly. Surely, this wasn't what I thought it was. Maybe it was a Leopard. After all, this camp-site was known more for Leopards than Lions. Leopards are shy creatures. Lions are not! I consoled myself by believing that my 'Leopard' would go away. The growl returned, and this time it was followed up by some pretty intense heaving. Nope, definitely not a Leopard. It had to be The King of the Jungle. And judging from the loudness, he was probably less than six feet away.  The deep-throated growls returned along with some more heaving. Beads of sweat started  to form on my bald pate. Does he know we are here? What is he going to do? Is he going to make his next move against us? Is he alone? Is he calling his other pride members?  I couldn't see him as the tent's window was rolled down on the outside. The fear was killing me as much as the suspense. The fear of not being able to see what is going to happen next. A part of me wanted to just run out and get into one of the cars. Stay put!!! and DON'T MOVE!!!, I decided. The growling didn't stop, Neither did the heaving.

For a full two hours, the King of the Jungle made himself comfortable just outside our tents. Morbid thoughts crossed my head. Would I meet my end here? Will he go for my throat? Will I be able to outsmart him? All the mantras I had ever learnt throughout my life were being chanted repeatedly. It was amazing how I remembered them in the first place and it didn't matter if the order of the verses were jumbled up. I somehow had to stay calm. The growling and heaving was getting louder and louder but there were no screams or reactions that I could hear from the other tents. They all knew he was here and they remained dead silent. And then, it was quiet. The growling stopped, as did the heaving. I refused to believe that he had left. What if he had not? I decided that for the rest of the night, I would continue to remain as still as I could.

I don't know when I fell asleep again but I was woken up by the intense need to empty my bladder. It was still quiet. No growling, no heaving. I lay motionless in bed for a while just to be doubly certain , and then I crawled very slowly to front of my tent and unzipped it. My toilet was about 5 feet away in another tent, and although the two tents were covered by a large sheet of canvas making them look like a single tent, stepping out would make me vulnerable. I peered out to scan for any signs of activity. Nothing! He was gone!!  I tip-toed into the toilet and let out a huge sigh of relief. After all, my bladder had been full for over 4 hours now.  I crawled back into bed and fell asleep again. A few hours later I awakened hearing voices outside my tent, I knew that the guides had gathered to discuss what had transpired in the night. And amidst them was Saad and Shaaz. As soon as he saw me he quickly moved towards me and asked if I was okay. I nodded affirmatively. And then he asked me if I heard the Lion last night. I turned to him, and the look on my face said it all.

Later on, at breakfast it was revealed and confirmed that the King Of The Jungle had sauntered solo into our camp site. He made himself comfortable just outside the tent which housed Saad, Shaaz, and Ali-Saad's business partner. He was just two feet away from entry of their tent. While Saad managed to get a glimpse of the large male Lion, Ali woke up startled when he heard the growl for the first time . He quietly reached for his air-gun in case things got out of hand. During the course of the meal, it was revealed to us that Lion growled and the heaved to call for the rest of the pride to join him Thankfully, none of the other Lions came. Saad, Shaaz and Ali admitted that this encounter could have ended far worse when compared to the pride that encircled the camp a couple of weeks ago because this was happening just two feet away from them! And six feet from me.

I'm sure that this incident will stay afresh in our minds as long as we live. The King probably knew that we meant him no harm. It could easily have gone out of hand had one of us lost our cool and done something rash in a rush of adrenalin. It's the closest I've ever been to the possibility that I might not survive the night. I'm glad I did and I will forever be grateful to him for his magnanimity or whatever it was that led him to spare our lives. All hail, Simba - the undisputed King of The Jungle!!

Don't get Distracted

Recently, I saw a movie named Kill The Messenger. It is the story of Gary Webb, an honest journalist who came upon a story involving the Central Intelligence Agency’s involvement in widespread distribution of drugs sourced from Nicaragua. These drugs were traded for arms and weapons that the US Government was sending in order to fuel a civil war. The drugs were in turn, being sold to certain sections of the public. Webb’s story shook the CIA’s very foundations. Despite, threats to his family, coercion and blackmail, Webb went ahead and published his article which quite obviously took the entire United States of America by storm. But the pressure that was put on his employer by the CIA and various Government officials meant that there was an apology issued by the Newspaper that he worked for apologizing for the factual inaccuracies in Webb’s report. After he resigned from his job, not surprisingly, nobody offered him employment. The worst part in all of this is that Webb was found dead in his apartment with two bullet shots in his head. The police ruled it as suicide. Funny, isn’t it? How can a man shoot himself once and in the head and survive to shoot himself again?

Webb’s story wasn’t the end of this. It resulted in widespread demand for answers and even for the CIA’s main man to step down. Further investigation confirmed that the CIA was indeed responsible for the distribution and the sale of narcotics in the state of California. The entire investigative report was published for the public to read BUT, guess what happened. The report was given scant importance. Do you know why??? Because, the entire nation was lapping up juicy details of the Clinton-Lewinsky affair. The entire 51 states of the USA were busy reading about Clinton’s semen staining the sheets. The entire country was keen on knowing where Lewinsky is at the moment. And were gushing about how well Hillary Clinton took this so called ‘tragedy’. Was it really so important that a major racket involving the Country’s foremost Intelligence Agency being busted was given a small column in the 4^th or 5^th page of every daily???

This is exactly what is happening in our country too. The media is screaming their throats hoarse that India is becoming an intolerant country but not focusing on other more important issues. One or two stray incidents are given so much national coverage that issues that need Public attention get sidelined and sometimes even dismissed. We are a nation of 1.3 billion people. That’s 1/6^th of the world’s population. Much as this may sound harsh, stray incidents will happen. But to create and paint a nation-wide picture that we are an intolerant country seems like something is amiss. And do these victims need justice? Of course they do. If the media is going to help them get the justice they deserve, then great. But that’s not what the media does. Let me ask you a question. How does one rape make it to the news and another doesn’t? How does one hate crime make it while another doesn’t? Because, that’s what the media really does. It identifies and selects which incidents will capture public attention and TRP ratings and focus only on those and side-by-side, which incidents will take the nation’s attention away from more important events. By sensationalizing such stories, isn’t it obvious that something big is escaping our much-needed attention??? We need to wake up and really read the smaller articles that get covered. There is always a hidden agenda when minor incidents get covered and sensationalized. Read that newspaper more carefully for clues. Today, the ‘trending’ topic is intolerance. Just like after the Nirbhaya Incident, the trending word was rape. A few months ago it was about Religious Conversion. A few years ago it was hate crimes against lovers and the Khap Panchayats. Neither of these issues has gone away. They remain as much rampant as they always were. They are not trendy enough at the moment and hence don’t get covered as much. Heinous crimes are not to be trivialized but neither are they to be sensationalized to the extent where it threatens to cause deep-rooted hatred between us. Collectively, we need to take a rational stand against criminals. If we can, we should use our strength of numbers to show our unity to our so called leaders, and not to destroy one another.

My honest submission to you is this. Don’t get distracted. Don’t feed thoughts of mistrust and negativity against one community or another based on what you see or hear. If they say half-baked information is dangerous, then manipulative misinformation is nothing short of suicide. It is the collective suicide of intellect, compassion, tolerance and intelligence. 

Palmgrove and it's timelessness

It had been more than a year now. Considering that this place was frequented by me as much as twice or thrice a week, one year can feel like a lifetime. Besides, the last chat I had with my brother wasn’t a very good one. ‘Rubbish!!! Highly disappointing!!! Not going back there again!!’ were his exact words. ‘No way!!!’. I retorted stoically, ‘Palmgrove can’t disappoint’, I reiterated. He didn’t budge. But then my brother is like that- quick to disassociate himself and write-off places or people irrespective of how long or deep an association may run. My bonds, however, run very deep with Palmgrove. In fact, they run so deep that I do not remember the first time I visited the place. Must’ve been in the very early Eighties, and although I may not remember that first experience, it doesn’t really matter because every time we either visited the place or packed food from there, my expression remained the same- sheer delight.

Think about it for a second and let’s assume my first visit to Palmgrove in the year 1983.Now come all the way to 2009 (which was the year I left Chennai). That’s a sum total of 26 years. Now let’s translate that into weeks. 26 times 52 is 1000 plus weeks. 1352 weeks to be exact. Even if I were to remove  100 weeks of non-attendance that still leaves me with 1252 weeks. That’s 1252 visits to Palmgrove!!!  And mind you, I’m not the only one. Although since 2009, my visits to Palmgrove were reduced to 3-4 times a year because they were dependent on my visits to Chennai., I know of families who still indulge in the fine art of gluttony week upon week, month on month, year on year. It is also not uncommon to experience a noisy bunch of oldies thoroughly indulging in a medley of dosas, idlies and vadas after their morning walk. After all, they’ve earned it.

Back to the present. An opportunity presented itself to make a short trip to Chennai (which is always welcome) and predictably so, I rubbed my hands in glee. Not only did it give me a chance to get some important work done, it also gave me with a chance to visit Palmgrove once again. This time, however, the reason to visit wasn’t to relive the experiences of the past. This visit was to check if the place still had it in itself to recreate the magic. There is a big difference between the two. As I walked into the timeless Menaka Restaurant, I was greeted enthusiastically by a familiar set of faces. They’ve seen me grow up here, of course, they’d be happy to see me again. But that moment was enough for me to conclude that this place cannot be affected by change. It was , indeed, timeless.  My old favourite waiter Ajay, hobbled to my table. As usual, he knew my order. One ‘plate’ idlies with one vada and at least 3-4 bowls of sambhar. Extra ghee on the side, please. Followed by a Ghee Roast.  Waiting, waiting, waiting. About 10 minutes later, I was served two steaming hot idlies and a crunchy vada. Perfect!!! Wonder what my brother was complaining about?? Tradition demands that Palmgrove idlies be eaten the way I’ve always eaten them- mashed finely along with chutney and loads of sambhar. The resultant combination appears more like a porridge than idlies. Now add some hot ghee on top and you are on your way to culinary nirvana. To further accentuate the taste, add a bite of the crunchy vada to each morsel of the mashed idli porridge. For me, this was a redefining moment. Palmgrove had not changed. Not one bit.

Next up was the ghee roast. Plated in the shape of a cone, the dosa was simply outstanding. Now here’s a dosa which can be eaten plain. And it had it’s own unique flavouring and right ‘bite’ to it. Dunking the dosa in sambhar was the best way to savour it and that’s exactly what I did. The dosa absorbs the sambhar rather carelessly leaving certain portions still crisp while other parts soak in its unique flavor. Bravo, bravo!!! Bliss!!! Time now for the final act .  A strong filter coffee served fresh and consumed in a leisure manner. There, you are set to face anything that the world throws at you.

As a token of gratitude, I gave them all movie ticket vouchers that I had won the previous night at an event. I was tickled to see animated discussions among the old, greying and balding waiters as to which film they should watch. I smiled to myself and continued to enjoy my coffee entertaining a rather pleasing thought -  It’s quite comforting to know no matter how good or bad things get, there is always that one place in our lives that we can go to time and again to experience gratification. In my life, that place is Palmgrove. No question about it :)

The Four Candles

A Tender Moment- When Chuppy met Mom

A hospital discharge is always testing. In Mom’s case, recovery still remained largely uncertain. It was as though one battle had been won but the war was still imminent. There was still a lot of fighting to be done. There was still a lot more to overcome and a lot more to endure. The big difference was that the turf had changed. She was now home. How that will change the equation remains to be seen but what is known is that she will have her favourite team of warriors by her side. This team is quite similar to the one that has been with her all along in the hospital i.e My brother and I coupled with the love and support of all our family, friends and well-wishers but there was one little warrior who’s absence was always notable.

As we settled mom into her room, which now looked more like a hospital room than her bedroom, we ran through the list of all the equipment/medicines as well as disposables. Everything seemed to be in place so it was time now. I took the stairs down to my friend’s place and rang the bell. The sniffs and snorts began to get louder as the maid came closer towards the door. By the time she had reached the door, the snorts had turned into an all-familiar squeal. But this time, it almost seemed like she knew that there was something different. As the door opened, there she was prancing around, expressing her excitement in a way that only she could. ‘Yay, you’ve come to take me home. Woo hooo’ would be my guess as to what she was implying.  This time, however, Chuppy’s greeting was different. It was accompanied by an unusual sense of urgency to go home. Could she sense that mom was home? After nearly four months? If her non-stop plea to get home as fast as we could was any indication, the answer would be a resounding YES. She knew. Somehow, she knew that she was going to see Mom when she went home.

Despite all the love and affection that we have for her, letting her go to Mom was a catch-22 situation. ‘Keep her away from possible sources of infection’ was the clear instruction given unanimously by all the Doctors. And quite obviously, that was the way to go. But, what about Chuppy? Should we prevent her from being with mom? Is it even fair? After all, Chuppy’s connection with Mom is beyond explanation. Predicaments such as these tend to evoke strong opinions that sometimes lead to difficult decisions. But none of that would be so in this case. As I let her loose when we entered the house, she went straight into mom’s room and stopped in her tracks. Mom’s severe health condition meant that she cannot react or respond to most things around her and Chuppy entering the room was no exception. Disappointingly, there were no Bollywood moments where someone magically gets better upon seeing a dearly loved one. That was reserved strictly for the Yash Raj Films I guess.

What I did, however, witness, was something else altogether. This is normally the kind of stuff you see on Facebook ,courtesy videos that are shared by various people titled ‘What this dog did next will blow your mind’.

Very slowly, Chuppy made her way to mom’s bed. Uncertain about what to do next she turned around to look at me. I didn’t say a word. She continued to go around Mom’s bed slowly inspecting as it were some type of cage that was preventing her from reaching out to Mom. She then put her two feet on the bed and sniffed around a little and again looked at me. I remained silent. As did the Nurse and the housemaid. This was Chuppy’s moment with Mom and none of us were going to interfere. She slowly moved away from the bed and sat down beside it. Quiet, sober and yet it was a statement made by her- “I am here by your side, I won’t let you go this time” Mom could not react but I know deep down inside she was delighted to have her little Direwolf right beside her. That in itself is one more battle won thanks to her composure. It was a tender moment yet it showed just how strong the bonds of love are between two beings. And it was cherished by all who were present J J J

Oh My God, It’s PK

My most recent and rather annoying experience with imbeciles relates to a delightfully sensible and sensitive (yep, that’s the order in which the two ‘sens’ follow) called PK. PK is about an alien that visits our planet, and more specifically our country. His mission is to study the people of this planet and report back to his own. The key to his return is a homing/tracking device that is stolen from him. Without this device, his mother ship cannot pick him up. Thus begins his journey towards finding this lost device which leads him to unravel the misgivings of self-styled God men proclaiming to be direct ‘connections’ with God. I won’t delve much more into the story, as that is not the purpose of this article. What I do intend to do, is to vent my anger and frustration on the anti-social elements that feels that this simple film is an insult to their religion.

What PK does is simple:

It exposes self-styled fraudulent God men who influence the gullible masses with religious hokum. What I find hard to believe is that a fairly large number of these followers are well educated people. Now, one can and will argue that education has nothing to do with the fact that one believes in a power higher than one’s self. That is a valid argument as even some of the greatest minds of our times like Thomas Edison and Albert Einstein believed in the Divine as well as in the concept of Miracles. BUT, BUT, BUT. None of these great minds ever believed that a single individual could be their ticket to ridding themselves of their problems once and for all. None of these people were influenced into ‘donating generously’ to attain Nirvana.

PK has many simple messages but the most powerful message is that of helping one another live through life’s challenges rather than putting all your Faith and Money into a never-ending abyss of lies and deceit. God wanted us to look after each other and that’s why he made us. It reminds me of another movie that deeply influenced my own beliefs about God and our ways of worship. That film was called ‘OMG! Oh My God!’ There is a beautiful song in the film which is sung soulfully by Kailesh Kher called ‘Mere Nishaan’. The song is God’s lament about how human beings have made it a business. Some of the lines in the song (translated below) are very similar to the message PK has for us:

I no longer live in the hearts of my people,

instead I am sold everywhere in the markets…

…I made this world with my own hands

not out of soil but out of emotions

yet, here I am looking for myself

OMG took a hard-hitting stand towards some of the ludicrous beliefs that religions inculcate. Like instead of wasting a liter of milk on an stone idol, why not give it to a poor person who hasn’t eaten for days? PK makes a far more subtle statement about trying to build your own connection to the divine by helping one another. About finding your own path and not giving in to the devious and divisive ideologies that are communicated through god-men. Oh My God openly mocks at Priests by rating their IQ equivalent to the temperature of a room. The protagonist goes on to state God has become a business and that this business is rampant owing to a constant state of fear that is instilled into followers. Do this or you will go to Hell. Do that and a place for you in Heaven is guaranteed. PK does the same. There are of course, many more similarities between the two films but the biggest difference between the two is this. PK at heart is a sensitive film that is centered around loving, caring, and looking out for one another (just like PK and Jaggu and even Bhairon Singh do in the fim). OMG scarcely relies on any of the qualities or emotions that PK does. Instead, it takes the proverbial ‘bull by the horns’ approach in dealing with Religion as a form of Crony Capitalism.

But what exactly seems to be the problem with Religious extremist groups that want PK to be banned??? Well, it’s not difficult to decipher (even for a person with the IQ of my bedroom). PK is enacted by a Muslim- Aamir Khan. It’s funny how a large percentage of this country nodded in agreement as Aamir, through his Television programme, ‘Satyamev Jayate’ tackled one taboo topic after another. Most of these were some form of social evil, Malpractice, Corruption or any other pressing Social need of the country. The armchair activists of this country, from their higher moral ground, applauded most of his efforts to bring these issues to the forefront. So what was he then, An Indian or a Muslim? If he was an Indian trying to do his bit to improve the world that we live in the TV programme, then how come they have a problem against the same Indian trying to dispel the shroud of darkness that has a sinister effect on the overall well-being of the nation, through his film?

The problem does not lie in the Religious prejudices. The problem lies in the fact that these Religious Extremists wait for an opportunity to strike a soft target and therefore attract publicity. They like to see the effect that the film has on the masses and then decide whether it is in their best vested interests to ban the film or not.

The problem lies with the fact that these groups will always prefer it if the larger population remains uneducated and continue to be governed by completely irrational claims of individuals being God’s favoured messengers. If the masses wake up to this fact that God has indeed given us the opportunity to empower ourselves and carve our paths, these organizations wouldn’t survive leave alone thrive. 

The problem lies with the fact that these extremists (and I include ALL religious extremist outfits) really have absolutely nothing to do with Religion. It is a business that thrives on a constant state of fear. Their highly treasured investments (God Men) won’t get them the votes they so badly need to keep them in Power.

Last but not the least, nobody will hear what they have to say because people will keep themselves busy by helping each other out irrespective of their caste, creed or religion. And then maybe we won’t find God, but we will for sure have more people say to us ‘Thank God, for sending you J ‘ See you all in the New Year. And if you haven’t seen PK yet, then do yourselves a big favour by watching the film. And do watch OMG! Oh My God as well.