Love Jehad

In an earlier post, I had talked about the complexity and heartache behind a girl changing her name after marriage. However, I realize this could be a much smaller issue, when compared to the ‘love jehad’ or ‘romeo jehad’ talked about in a news snippet here.

Apparently, some groups in Kerala are concertedly working on converting Hindu girls to Islam after they fall in love with Muslim boys.

I can’t even decipher the plethora of emotions that crossed my mind and heart as I read the article. It is not only to do with the status of women in our society even in this day and age; it also has not much to do with questions on will men convert instead; it is about introspecting on our own religion and our own god!

Ofcourse, this is no breaking news to any of us; we all have at some point or the other heard of such conversions in an inter-religion marriage – Hindu-Muslim, Hindu-Christian, Christian-Muslim. However, each time I read a story of coerced transition in the name of love and religion, I cringe in fear.

Every religion says one God, every religion says respect the other – If there is one God, and each religion simply sees a different manifestation of the same super power, we are doing a great injustice to our concept of God or the Almighty by forcing one to change his or her religion.

It is unfortunate that how the history of human kind unravels the degenerative association of God with religion, religion with traditions and beliefs, traditions and beliefs with division, division with hatred, and hatred with bloodshed.

Light?

A nagging desire for light

The night has been black, evil almost
The fear of the unknown
Intensifying in the obscurity
Haunting shadows, now apparitions

The promise of the morning beacon
Offers little consolation
If it is not now
It doesn’t really matter when

The question of survival
Lasts only as long as
The darkest vertex
And once that is endured
The shimmer of the break of dawn
No longer warms the soul

The blinding blaze and the
Beaming glow, the piercing
Ebony and the deafening silence
Concatenates into a nebulous halo
Enveloping the consciousness
Of the being that once
Yearned for eternal illumination

The nagging desire for light
Replaced by the strength to
Bear nadirs and zeniths alike

SOS – Our hill stations need a savior!

A kumaoni by birth, I have been very proud of my “native” land – the hills of Uttarakhand (formerly, Uttaranchal, and before that a part of the state of Uttar Pradesh). Most of our vacations during my growing up years were spent visiting breathtaking valleys and mountainous ranges of Nainital, Bhimtal, Almora, Pithoragarh and Lohaghat – the lesser known but much more beautiful cousins of the more popular – Mussorie and Dehradun.

This time around I visited the hills after a gap of 5 years. The journey was as always arduous and my affinity to mountain sickness does not help matters. But forget that. Dad took a less-traveled route to Almora – our chosen destination - and it was undoubtedly one of the most scenic drives I have ever taken. The long winding roads wrapped around the mountains with royal pines spread out till as far as the eye can see, and the mist rising softly as if from below the mountains – heaven is here.

But before I could completely lose myself in the picturesque view that enveloped us, the driver screeched rudely at our first halt.

Rickety shops lined along the road serving food that has never known the word hygiene. Sanitation is at its worst. No, you don’t want a description of the restrooms.

We tried to drown the ugly reality in the beauty of nature and reached Almora - a town that has not changed with the passage of time. I do not know if I mean this as an appreciation. Almora still does not have a drainage and sewage system. The vehicles have increased but the roads have deteriorated.

Move to Nainital – all that is good about the place is what the colonial rule bequeathed on us. We have barely been able to maintain the infrastructure developed by the British more than 200 years ago. The number of people visiting these places has multiplied manifold, and the “mall” road has become a mess of smoke and noise.

What makes me so bitter at the state of affairs is that nothing is being done, nobody is bothered. What should not change – the weather, the majesty of nature, the peace and solitude of the place – is changing thanks to global warming, unchecked pollution and total disregard for our natural heritages; And what should change – the infrastructure, roads, education of the local population, sanitation – is not changing.

It is a frustrating experience seeing these places that offer hope for retreat and sanity in a world that’s maddeningly complicated, simply fade away their charm and glory.

However, I must mention that Bhimtal is a few notches better than the other two places. There is a serenity in the place that is intoxicating. So maybe next summer, you could plan a trip to Bhimtal to beat the heat. Leaving you with a picture of the calm and placid waters.

Some relics from the past...

And while I have been uploading pics of mom's paintings, she has very proudly dug out my ancient sketch book. If she is to be believed, it is precisely 12 years old.

She insists I post these relics too...ouch! What hurts is that the sketches that I do now show no improvement - infact some are much worse :(.

My super artist mom!

Lot of people have got back to me saying they haven't really seen my mom's work - who is a real wonderful artist especially in oil. So, since I am home this week, I thought I'll take a few pics of her paintings around the house to validate my bragging about her in my earlier post.
Here they are:

Jai Ho Slumdog but Cattle Class hai hai!

For the past two days I have been dying to shout out my opinion on the controversial tweet of Shashi Tharoor but just haven't been able to get down to writing it. So, a little late, but nevertheless.

First, dear ST, the apology to the people whose sentiments you may have hurt was so not required!

When can we start a mature era of politics where it is okay to sit back and enjoy some play of wits? Our politicians need to grow up and more importantly, develop a sense of humor – or maybe simply get a life!

I personally enjoyed ST's tweet, as a comment on the recent Congress paranoia over PDAs (no I do not mean public displays of affection but public displays of austerity), that he would travel "cattle class out of solidarity with all our holy cows!"

Obviously, the little-educated politicians saw this as insulting and blah and blah. We had Congress party guys immediately in action disassociating themselves and the party name with ST's comment regarded as upsetting the emotions of the Indians. Ouch, indeed.

Frankly speaking, the crammed economy class seats in all the airlines (non-Indian included), the non-AC coaches in the trains and the public transport in any city in India is fit for cattle, and we human beings try to accommodate as much as we can. If Madame Jayanti Natarajan is so offended by ST's remarks she should proactively begin to see what can be done to improve the lot of the proverbial "common man". I mean just because you don't call me blind doesn’t change the fact that I do not have eyes!

And the hullabaloo of the term "holy cows" was hilarious indeed - I think ST is not aware of the literacy levels of our darling politicians.

However, one thing that ST's remark achieved was something that has been very difficult in the recent past - he actually got BJP and Congress on the same side - nothing unites us like illiteracy and sheer joblessness! Forget all the pressing issues of national concern – how dare this “phoren-returned” gentleman show us the mirror!

And all this fuss being made by the party that used Jai Ho from Slumdog Millionaire as their election anthem...the logic escapes me!

One of the last generations to enjoy DD…

As Door Darshan (DD) completes 50 years, I realize that I belong to one of the last generations to enjoy this public division broadcaster of India. I am talking about the late 80’s and early 90’s.

Once the ‘cable’ invaded our televisions, DD was quickly relegated to the domain of the 9 o’clock news and the weekend movies. By the late 90’s, DD was history for most of us whose first rendezvous with the TV was through the musical “bane sur mera tumhaara to sur bane humaara”. And for kids born after the 80’s, DD was archaic, as out-dated as dinosaurs maybe!

Only yesterday was I recounting to a colleague the fascination that we had for the television screen as kids. There were fixed slots for children’s programs and we considered it a treat to be able to watch the specials for extended hours during summer vacations.

Gone are those days; now from the day the kids are born, they have a plethora of choices. If nothing on the idiot box suits their temperament, mommy and daddy instantly fetch out the huge collection of DVDs. What charm will “ek chidiya, anek chidiya” hold for such youngsters?

Here’s a list of some of my favorite DD serials that defined my viewing experience as a kid and therefore occupy a huge soft corner in my heart:

• Ramayana – No other adaptation of Ramayana comes close to this Ramanand Sagar classic
• Mahabharata – Another DD flagship that brought alive the epic in every household on Sundays at 9 AM
• Vikram aur Betaal – I am told I was initially dead scared of Betaal but couldn’t resist watching the spell-binding episodes
• Jungle Book – Aww who can forget Mowgli – 'jungle jungle baat chali hai pata chala hai, chaddi pehen ke phool khila phool khila hai'
• Flop Show – The “baap” of all comedy serials – a la Jaspal Bhatti
• Chanakya – Yes, my first source of gyan on the Mauryan empire and “chankaya niti”
• Malgudi Days – The stories of the fictional town of Malgudi created by R.K. Narayanan
• The Sword of Tipu Sultan – A magnificent portrayal of the life of Tipu Sultan
• Dekh Bhai Dekh – 'Iss rang badalti duniya mein kya tera hai kya mera hai'
• Chitrahar – Friday 7:00 PM it was!
• Fun Time (during the summer vacations) - Included Talespin, Duck Tales, Laurel and Hardy, Charlie Chaplin
• I also vaguely remember watching one or two episodes of Fauji (the one with SRK), Nukkad (rustic and rogue) and Circus (the not-so-funny life behind the stage)!

Here’s a loving remembrance to the good times we shared :).