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. 

Superwoman

Seven days ago, my mother was rushed into the Intensive Care Unit following a violent attack of seizures which led her into a semi-comatose state. This wasn’t the first time she was admitted into a hospital, but this indeed was the first time I was closest to losing her. Forever!!! As the Doctors here at the Apollo Specialty Hospital, Jayanagar 3^rd Block, worked tirelessly to revive her, there were many flashes that returned to my memory. As I write this article, she is still here however she is on the road to recovery.In this article, I’m going to share some of those moments that left an indelible mark in my life and in more ways than one changed it. 

It was the year 2002. My first two months in Southampton were traumatic. I was struggling to understand the intricacies of the MBA programme since it had been five years since I had passed out of college. Trying to make sense of ‘their’ style of administering courses means unlearning what you have already learnt in ‘our’ style. And trust me, it wasn’t easy. Research-based methods had to take precedence over rote-based methods. Questioning was more important than agreeing. And unlike what we are taught here in India, there is no right or wrong answer; just perspectives. Justify it with relevant academic and real-life theories and instances and you get your grade.

Then there was the guilt, bitterness and sorrow of a break-up. Not that I want to give that too much of importance here but it was my first break-up (at the age of 24). What added to my woes was the accommodation. It wasn’t bad, not at all but I simply was not prepared for living in a room that was the size of a matchbox. How was I going to spend an entire year in an 8X6 Room??? Add to that, some terribly noisy neighbours and ,therefore, sleepless nights, and you have a perfect recipe for depression. Oh and I forgot (how could I)!!!!! I had to wake up at 5 in the morning every day, to carry a 20-kg mail bag around a distant neighbourhood to deliver mail. I had to complete the entire delivery within the hour (else, I would miss my pick-up) and then report back to the Post office.

From a Course viewpoint, my first assignment at class was nothing short of disaster. I had failed. And badly. The tutors found my language to be a notch or two better than the rest of the class but I wasn’t here to demonstrate my grip on English. I needed to change the way thought about assignments;  and the first one was a grim warning of what lay ahead.  Ever since I landed in the United Kingdom in September 2002, I was in for one rude shock after another (thankfully, racism wasn’t one of them).  It was around the first week of November (closer to my Birthday) that everything changed. And there was just one person responsible for it. No prizes for guessing who it was. 

I was in the library looking for some research material for my next assignment when I received a call from one of my newly formed friends, “ JD! there’s a packet that’s come for you from India. It reads from Sheila Gandhi and it’s quite big. You might wanna come and take a look” I was elated. A packet from home meant goodies. And if this friend of mine said it was quite big then it meant loads of goodies. Some respite, I smiled to myself. And knowing my mom, she would have packed it immaculately. She has always been brilliant at gift wrapping; so much so that you wouldn’t feel like opening the gift. I had no idea whatsoever about what lay ahead. As I opened the door to the lobby of my apartment there stood two of my friends beaming smiles and next to them she stood. I screamed “ MOM” and gave her the tightest hug I’ve ever given anybody ever in my life. I didn’t say a word for as long as I can remember; Neither did she. Tears flowed freely. That moment moved even my friends and I was tempted to give them a hug as well but NO. This moment was fiercely MINE and MINE alone.

She had taken on travel assignment from her employer (the British Deputy High Commission) despite having had a Kidney Transplant Operation a few months ago. Her Doctors has advised against long distance travel for at least a year since she was prone to infection which could easily be transmitted in Public areas such as Airports. A new country also meant she could be susceptible to virus there. She had put herself in a precarious situation by agreeing to travel for 3-weeks across the length and breadth of UK to promote trade. All this, JUST to be with me.  That meant we had Three weekends together. Three memorable weekends together which changed everything.  

During the course of her stay, my friends and I were treated to her trademark masterchef recipes. We walked all over Southampton, celebrated my birthday by going out to one of the most posh restaurants in Southampton, visited the grave of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and had many more such fantastic experiences. I realized just how much had gone into sending me here. The sacrifices she made. The pain she had undergone. The sheer loneliness she had to deal with. And the huge health risk she took by coming to see me. The health worries weren’t all. In that same year, my brother got married. For the uninitiated, Indian wedding are more drama, pomp and superficiality than substance. But Mom being Mom, kept all of that to a bare minimum and single-handedly took care of our family’s share of the expenses. If that wasn’t stressful enough, imagine this: Soon after marriage, my brother moved jobs, and as a result, moved to another city which meant that for the first time in her life, she returned to an empty house. The very thought is disturbing. But she did it.

As a parting note, let’s jot down all the events that occurred in the year 2002.

a)       A Kidney Transplant in February

b)       My brothers marriage in August along with a fracture to her right hand during the wedding

c)       My departure to the UK in September

She dealt with all of that and of course, the trials and tribulations of daily life. And came out on top. But then I always believed that she was Superwoman. Mere mortals are not that capable. Ask me, I’m one J . A mere mortal J .

My point of view: A letter to Times of India

To the Times of India,

Dear TOI,

Firstly, I want to congratulate you for the wonderful series in your online edition called OMG. I myself have clicked on these links several times and almost unfailingly. It doesn’t matter what follows OMG or how true it may be because you guys claim to be playing by the rules of the game.Right?  You say online media is crude, crassy and has different rules in comparison to traditional media and that one size does not fit all. Really? And who may I know is responsible for setting these rules of sensationalism. As you are supposedly one of the country’s biggest media houses I’m quite tempted to point all my five fingers at you. In the past, you guys has unashamedly displayed Yana Gupta’s private parts, shamelessly linked Arjun Kapoor to Malaika Arora, put down slide shows of actresses in sex scandals and what not under the title OMG. But enough is enough. Maybe you guys don’t understand (which is not surprising).

Are you guys so click hungry that you make news that is dick hungry? What kind of perverse pleasure do you guys get in sensationalizing stuff like OMG Deepika’s showing her cleavage. So what? Like you mentioned in your futile and rather inane attempt to justify yourselves, Deepika has posed provocatively for many magazines, movies etc etc, but just what gives you the right to make it an OMG moment? Do you understand where I’m coming from. Ok I guess you don’t so let me simplify it like teachers explain to school children.

So here’s me taking central stage with a stick in my hand for class full of children (read TOI journos). I even have a stick in my hand for the mischievous back-benchers. So shall we begin class?

Children, today we will learn about the term OMG and its various usages. OMG is the short form (I would’ve said abbreviation but then these children don’t understand sophisticated words) for Oh My God! It is a term that is used to describe something that really surprises you. It is used to describe something that is unusual and warrants a special mention. It is often used to sensationalize trivial matters to attract viewers and many times uses a red circle to drive home its point. So remember to use OMG whenever you see something surprising like:

a)      OMG teenagers are growing facial hair

b)      OMG the teacher has come to class

c)      OMG my friend had a bath

d)      OMG I wore clothes today

You get the drift right?  Now can some of you tell me some OMG moments in your lives?

One student stands up. ‘yes’ says the teacher. ‘OMG I had breakfast today’ says the student. ‘Well done, child you nailed it’ . So much for OMG moments. Now coming back to Deepika’s cleavage. Why don’t you guys put OMG moments for stuff like ‘OMG, Amitabh Bachchan knows English’ or ‘OMG, Shah Rukh Khan likes to take a plane when he has to travel abroad’.

The crux of the problem is not you guys sensationalizing Deepikas cleavage. The crux is you using it get those extra clicks by calling it an OMG moment when it appears to be a perfectly normal photograph of a woman in a dress. And not to mention that you guys drew a red circle around it just to make it obvious. Are you guys catering to a sperm bank? If you are then it’s a pretty pathetic effort to objectify a woman. If you are doing it, then do a good job of it, will you? We don’t need your stupid sensationalism coz if we want to see a nude woman or a provocative pose there are magazines and media available for that. Are you competing with them for clicks? Maybe you are. And spare us your point of view coz I doubt if anyone is buying it. Why do you have to make a sensation out of Shweta Prasad Basu’s sex racket and then right next to it, run a slide show of other actresses who were involved in sex rackets. Or why should you put up a pic of Yana Gupta showing her private parts and then run another slide show next to it with other actresses that have done something similar???? It’s just down right PATHETIC. Do you guys even care about what you are reporting? I mean this is irresponsible reporting to its core but then I keep forgetting that you guys compete with SUN magazine in terms of crass content.

Not that this one article of mine will make any sense to you and not that it will make any difference but understand this. You guys think you make stars, then get this thru into your heads that WE make YOU. If we choose to boycott you, then you can publish it on your front page. Now that will be a real OMG moment. ‘OMG readers boycott Times Of India’