tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-153833322024-03-08T00:43:39.167+05:30IndiapendentAbout India and the World from an independent perspective.Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-16750943901599880832014-12-18T18:42:00.002+05:302014-12-18T18:50:38.779+05:30Book Review: Yatrik by Arnab Roy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Indian writing in English is in a curious quandary. Sales are up, as is reach and acceptance. However the kind of books that sell, and have got the reach and acceptance are usually so bad in terms of both plot and language, that one despairs instead of being happy. In this cesspool of Chetan Bhagats and Ravinder Singhs, it is so rare to find someone actually writing something good - paying attention to both language and plot - that it's a refreshing revelation. Arnab Ray's Yatrik is one such book. It's not perfect, and I have some quibbles with the tone used in parts of the book, but those are minor ones. The important thing is that Yatrik is pretty radical in nature. Radical because it dares to take regular themes - love, college politics, heartbreak, family, and weave them together into something very unexpected, surprising the reader with the deft handling. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am not really going to talk about the plot - the book blurbs gives it away anyway. Suffice it to say that the 'story' is told in multiple flashbacks. However even the flashbacks are of two types - the expository ones where Anustup talks about his life in conversation with his companion in the afterlife, and the three plot driven ones where he gets to see the "other side". This makes it a tricky motif to sustain and to his credit Arnab does a good job of delineating the flashbacks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">[As an aside: In terms of atmosphere and themes, while I hesitate to examine a text based on the author's life (blame it on my lit-crit background), a couple of things do stand out that seem to illustrate the author's personal beliefs, especially for us who have followed his writing for long. One, his deep abiding affection for Kolkata's Durga Puja, especially at Maddox Square. I just knew there would be a scene set there somehow and I was not disappointed. Secondly his abiding contempt of mercenary 'intellectuals' who are routinely bought over by the blandishments of power and fame - these are represented here in the character of Atulya-da. One cannot help but equate Atulya with real life mercenaries like Suvaprasanna in Bengal today.]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the use of language, Arnab is definitely head and shoulders above many of the 'writers' being published today. No question about that. The issue I have is with the fact that the characters, while differentiated clearly by their personalities, don't always speak very differently. Sometimes they do, like the pimp extorting money from Anustup's mother, but that was clearly crafted to be so. All too often the register is similar, almost as if Arnab forgot that they are different people. Maybe this is deliberate, almost like the author wants to make it clear that he is in a 'meta' way, translating all the words for us readers from the Bengali the characters must actually have spoken, but it still jars somewhat, at least for me. Also suddenly you have words being used that break even this illusion of authorial translation ("douchebaggery" stood out as a example) because they simply don't have a Bangla equivalent. Also even if we take the 'meta' translation explanation out, a student leader in 80s or 90s Kolkata simply would never use that word - it was not in circulation then.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However these are quibbles. Overall Yatrik is a bold experiment that needs to be lauded, and yes, read by more people. It takes guts to write something that is so "uncategorizable" to coin a phrase. It's smooth, fast paced, yet makes you think. How many Indian books nowadays have that as a package? According to me - the better of Arnab's two novels so far. Definitely recommended.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">[This review was posted originally on Amazon.com]</span></div>
Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-69181536319493291372012-10-11T12:15:00.003+05:302012-10-11T12:21:11.708+05:30Book Review - Urban Shots - Bright Lights Ed. Paritosh Uttam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Tahoma; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">This is a short story collection edited by Paritosh Uttam. Now I am an admitted fan of the short story genre ever since I read the first O. Henry story in school. That was one of the reasons I decided to take up this review in the first place. Also adding to the allure was that this was going to be the first "Indian" collection of short stories I would be reading and reviewing. I also expected to be objective because I had never read any of the authors ever before.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Tahoma; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 19px;">Given the expectations, overall the experience was disappointing. While there were a coup of nice ones, most of the 28 stories in the book left me dissatisfied, and in some cases thinking why the story existed in the first place. A case in point is the first story, </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><b>Amul</b> by Arvind Chandrashekhar. It is supposed to be a b</span><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">ittersweet story of a broken family, told from the perspective of a young girl who loves Math. As the sordid story progresses, you learn that her drunkard dad killed her unfaithful mother, who had been carrying on with the cable techie, her dog had died, she kicked a cat, and finally, in a brutal denoument, she has cancer. Basically sadness all around. Not sure what Math had to do with it though.<br /><br /><b>Silk</b> by Salil Chaturvedi is a nicer story about crumbling marriages laden with some overwrought imagery of blood which was quite unnecessary because it added nothing to the story. The theme of an affair as self actualization is interesting though. <b>Across the Seas</b> by Ahmed Faiyaz is a slice of life snapshot of a Muslim family with one son abroad and how the family both misses him and is proud in equal measure. It is probably set in the early '80s when getting a telephone connection involved long waiting periods and bribes. <b>Alabama to Wyoming</b>, written by the editor, Paritosh Uttam mocks Indians' USA obsession, as well as our presumed right to cheat Americans of their money, all in the backdrop of a visit to the Taj.<br /><br /><b>Double Mixed</b> by Namita V Nair is a contrived schlocky story of cheating spouses who discover they have been cheating with people who are also spouses. Totally filmy stuff. This is followed by another Ahmad Faiyaz story, </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><b>Good Morning Nikhil</b>. Faiyaz</span><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"> seems to be a complete family person because this is another small scene from a family where nothing happens. And ends with a dedication to his son! Fortunately <b>Maami Menace</b> by Pradeep Raj strikes a lighter note, being a funny story about a overly familiar old woman who tends to take advantage of a nice family's politeness. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">The next one <b>Peacock Cut</b> by R Chandrasekhar is a very m</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 19px;">ildly amusing froth about an American wrestler/basketball player wanting a weird haircut in India. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 19px;">In <b>Father of my Son</b> by Roshan Radhakrishnan, I found the first really interesting story in the collection. It's a d</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 19px;">elightful little story of a little boy's naughtiness and repercussions told in a funny, matter of fact manner from the father's perspective. The strict mom and the lenient dad might be cliches but still fun to read nonetheless, especially as an example of familial love. <b>The</b></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 19px;"><b> Bengal Tigress</b> by Malathi Jaikumar also deals with family but in a far more trite manner </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; line-height: 19px;">and purports to show a single act of defiance by a submissive wife as some sort of emancipation for her. In true Hindi movie style earns the respect of her husband by that one line of dialogue she utters. It does not help that the author gets the Bengali milieu and name wrong.</span></span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><b>Mr. Koshi's Daily Routine</b> by John Mathew is a</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 19px;"> touching and plaintive portrait of a sad, bitter man forced to conform and compromise all his life because of the demands of family and expectations. The story comes to a head with a final act of symbolic defiance that is his plaintive cry against all that is wrong in his world - his old boss, his dim colleagues and his supercilious but successful neighbor, Waghmare. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">In contrast, the next story <b>Mr. Perierra</b> by Ahmed Faiyaz strikes a sadder note, with a</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"> story of an expat visiting India and getting to meet an old terminally ill teacher who had influenced him a lot as a child.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>The Wall</b></span> <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Saurabh Katiyal is an </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">evocatively written description of ennui that strikes a young corporate executive of 31. The same corporate sales environment is covered in the next, mildly diverting story </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>Jo Dikhta Hai Woh Bikta Hai</b></span> <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Sneh Thakur which is a </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">portrait of a sales based FMCG company where rookie salespeople are being inducted.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>The Interview</b></span> <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Manisha Lakhe shows two faces of a famous and legendary film star, the accidental knowledge of which shakes the beliefs of an adoring reporter covering him for a profile. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>Paisley Printed Memories</b></span> <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Sneh Thakur describes a happy wedding in the memories of the bride, ending with a wrench that forces one to question how reliable or transient those memories are. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>Heaven & Hell</b></span> <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Shachi Mail shows how a short </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">encounter with a mehendiwalla causes a woman to reevaluate her entire existence.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>Cats & Sponges</b></span> <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Meena Bhatnagar is a</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;">n interesting little amorality tale of interpersonal intrigues set in a hotel, while </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><b>You Eternal Beauty</b> by Naman Saraiya is a </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">story that begins with promise but loses itself in a litany of Calcutta cliches. Wrong Bangla to boot - "Amar ke jete hobe", anyone?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><br style="text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>The Window Seat</b></span> <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Salil Chaturvedi is p</span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">erhaps among the best of the lot. Deals with a chance meeting between a laid off, divorced pilot and a girl who has just broken off a relationship with a married man, and how they help each other. The fourth Ahmed Faiyaz story in the collection,</span><b><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> </span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">It's All Good</span></b> <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">does nothing to redeem his impression on me, being a s</span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">illy little morality tale on spending beyond your limit set in a sales dept in an organization.</span><br style="text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><br style="text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>The Pig in a Poke</b></span> <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Mydhili Verma is b</span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">ased on the Nigerian scams, and starts off promisingly when a teenager responds to the con email in a funny manner, but disappointingly loses steam when we realize the response was not being sarcastic! Bummer! </span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>Ready, Jet, Set, Go</b></span> <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">- another one by Uttam's favourite writer Ahmed Faiyaz. There seems to be a clear pattern here. </span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Ahmed seems to have a chip in his shoulder about new India. This time he takes on chick lit and Indian bestsellers and the kind of gauche people who publish and read them. </span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Another trite storyis the next one, called</span> <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>Things That Can Happen In A Park</b></span> <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Gagan Narula. </span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">A pointless vignette of an interaction between a young research scientist and an old geezer in the park.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Also set in a park, but more interesting is</span> <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b>Hot Masala</b></span> <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">by Jhangir Kerawala, where he describes a set of morning walkers and their encounter with a mugger who might be one of them! </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><b>The Raincoat</b> by Rashmi Sahi is a nice, </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">touching story of a family bonding together in penury via a hand stitched raincoat. This is followed by </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><b>The Weeping Girl</b> by Kunal Dhabalia which is the story</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"> of a guy being trying to help a girl seemingly in distress. The problem is, you can see the conclusion coming a mile away. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">The final story in the book is <b>Hot Pants</b> by Arefa Tehsin. It's an</span></div>
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Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-9886150955738952942012-10-11T12:15:00.002+05:302012-10-11T12:16:22.285+05:30Book Review: The Wreckage by Michael Robotham<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.921569); color: #262626; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 15px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Thrillers are forever. They are the comfort food for many readers like me - the dal chawal or hakka noodles that many of us crave when we are tired of having the rogan joshes and steak tartares of literary writing. We know what to expect, the plot twists, the heroic characters, the devious villains, the urgency of saving the world/person, and successful denoument. We know all this and that makes us happy. Enough to go back to the thrillers repeatedly, whenever we need some respite and comfort in our reading. All we thriller-loving readers ask for is a potentially plausible plot, and in the absence of that, a cracking pace and cathartic conclusion. </span><br />
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By this yardstick Michael Robotham does a middling job in The Wreckage. Other than the fact that the title has no real relevance to the plot, the story is eminently plausible, dealing with international financial wheeling dealing and chicanery in the backdrop of the Iraq war and subsequent occupation by US and British forces.</div>
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Two stories progress in tandem. One set in Iraq, initially stars the Pulitzer winning journalist Luca Terracini who is apparently daring and resourceful enough to be living outside the Green Zone with Iraqi people, being half Iraqi himself. The other story involves a washed out, retired cop (aren't they all?), Vincent Ruiz, who is first mugged, then transfixed by a young girl with some extraordinary resources and powers. </div>
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Luca starts to cover, then investigate, the robbery and disappearance of large amounts of reconstruction money from Iraqi banks. In this he is aided, both in professional and carnal terms by an UN financial auditor, Daniela Garner. Things rapidly escalate, and some bombings and attempts on his life later, Luca has to flee Iraq; but clearly he has stumbled upon something really big. On the other hand, in London, detective Ruiz realizes that his mugger has access some big secret hidden in a notebook she doesn't even remember stealing, that people are willing to kill for, the first victim being her junkie boyfriend.</div>
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The rest of the book traces the two storylines and how they merge, exposing multimillion dollar fraudulent banking transactions, helped along with the pregnant wife of a banker who had disappeared with the notebook everyone wants to lay their hands on. Meanwhile MI6 and FBI is also involved somehow - the question being, are the intelligence agencies friends or foes? The story is fairly detailed and the conclusion not completely obvious. </div>
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Micheal Robotham is a competent thriller writer. The language flows smoothly. The characters are well delineated, if a bit one-note. He resists making the protagonists into superheroes - a trap that writers like Clive Cussler and Tom Clancy fall into frequently. Maybe it is the Britishness in him that makes his characters more understated and realistic. However, that also means that personally I felt that the payoff at the conclusion was not as satisfying as I would expect from a thriller that is 500 pages long. I finished the book with a curious feeling of emotional disconnect, not really happy for the characters who survive or sad for those that die. Again, I might have been spoiled by masters of the genre like Ludlum, but the conclusion could definitely have been more forceful.</div>
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All in all, a good read, but there definitely are better thrillers out there.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This review was originally posted on <a href="http://thebookloversreview.blogspot.in/2012/07/guest-review-wreckage.html" target="_blank">The Book Lovers</a> blog. </span></div>
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Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-86378012368843096892012-10-11T12:10:00.001+05:302013-05-03T14:01:34.969+05:30Pearson International - Toronto's Artbeat!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #010101; font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“What, in the name of heaven, is THIS?” I wondered when I set eyes on it after my security check at Pearson for the first time. Imagine, if you will, four thick metal sheets curved towards each other in the form of a nested ‘namaste”, but not touching, creating a tunnel like passage between them that people can walk through, as they look upwards and around in wonder, automatically whispering in awe. Not that it would make any difference. The acoustics of this installation,</span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Tilted Spheres</i></span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;">, by Richard Serra ensures that even a whisper carries through audibly from end to end! Oh, and it weighs 120 tonnes!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #010101; font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As it turned out, this was just the beginning. Toronto takes its image as a world city and cosmopolitan centre for arts and culture very seriously and the design of Pearson International Airport reflects this desire. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #010101; font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Take the spectacular installation situated just before the Security Check at Departure. I remember being gobsmacked as I walked in and saw hundreds of cubes - red cubes, black cubes, transparent cubes – all floating in front of me. It took me some time to realize that these cubes were inside a massive Plexiglas water tank with internal mechanisms creating jets and currents that carried these cubes upwards and down again, like hundreds of square fish in an aquarium. Really made me ponder, it did. Did the cubes represent workers like me, frozen in office cubicles, buffeted by the currents of corporate life? Maybe the installation was called</span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The Iced Cubes</i></span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;">or something? As it turned out, I was wrong. It was not named</span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>The Iced Cubes</i></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">. Instead it turned out to be the work of Ingo Maurer and was named</span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Earthbound…Unbound</i></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">. Very impressive and arcane, but I still thought my idea had merit.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #010101; font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Paper planes in an airport? Yes, you’ll find that too here. A set of 19 white hanging metal planes resembling paper planes that kids make, set against the white background of the terminal roof, evokes sheer pleasure in the mind, especially if you have a tall beer in your hand to help your thoughts take off. Officially named</span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Flight Song,</i></span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;">the artist is Robert Charles Coyle.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 14px; margin: 0mm 0mm 3.52mm; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0mm;">
<span style="color: #010101; font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">One of the boldest statements is made by the literally named</span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Concentric Bands</i></span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;">by painter Sol DeWitt. Bright, almost psychedelic in effect, it leaves an impression in your mind long after you have seen it. As does the beautiful ceiling installation</span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Jetstream</i></span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;">by the Canadian artists Susan Schelle and Mark Gomes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #010101; font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">These are many other installations. Like the two life-sized bronze tigers that are very popular with the kids, flying fibreglass human figures and some beautiful abstracts on the white walls - all by Canadian artists with mostly unpronounceable names.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 14px; margin: 0mm 0mm 3.52mm; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0mm;">
<span style="color: #010101; font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As I helped myself to my 3</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><sup>rd</sup></span> <span style="font-size: 11pt;">beer and ruminated on all the art I saw at Pearson airport, I had to admit that as airports go, Toronto had succeeded in elevating its airport to a higher, um, plane.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Tahoma; line-height: 14px; margin: 0mm 0mm 3.52mm; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0mm;">
<span style="color: #010101; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;">Note: This post was originally written for and in published in Time Out Mumbai. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-38578481669628473832012-06-20T18:40:00.000+05:302012-06-20T18:41:44.572+05:30Book Review: The Yellow Emperor's Cure by Kunal Basu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is a remarkable book in many ways - ambitious, layered, dense with characters, and obviously the product of a lot of research. It spans two countries in terms of geography, but references a dozen others. It has a singular plot, but a plurality of digressions, lending it the air of a putative epic novel. <b>Kunal Basu</b> has been writing for some time with a fair amount of success and it is fair to say that he has a pretty sure grip over the language and the milieu he writes about. He knows a lot about the orient and his best success previously has been a story based in far East - The Japanese Wife, later made into a eponymous arthouse movie.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>The Yellow Emperor's Cure</b> is set primarily in China in the era between the Opium wars and the Boxer rebellion. The protagonist, Antonio, is a brilliant Portuguese libertine and surgeon, whose charmed, and charming, life is rudely jolted by the news that his famous, hugely admired father has contracted a deadly form of syphilis. That one fact changes him completely, starting him on an obsessive quest for finding a cure for the deadly disease and save his beloved father. He soon realizes that there is no cure in Europe or America - just a few hints and rumors of a almost magical cure in China guarded by their inscrutable doctors and medicine men. This is based on anecdotal information that the Chinese seemed not to be as affected by syphilis as the Europeans. The European sailors came back racked by the disease after visiting the fleshpots of the Far East regularly, while the Chinese seemed to fare better overall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In his desperate quest for the "Yellow Emperor's Cure", Antonio leaves his both his best friend and betrothed behind and sets sail for China. Luckily for him, his father's fame, and his own stature and connections ensure that he's welcomed and given royal treatment wherever he travels. Even in Peking, he is provided bed and food at the Dowager Empress' palace with the empress' personal doctor Xu teaching him the Chinese systems of medicine. His native European arrogance frequently causes him to dismiss the esoteric methods the Chinese use, while his desperation to cure his father makes him an impatient student. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That is, till the doctor's beautiful assistant, Fumi, arrives as a replacement teacher. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The mysterious Fumi turns his world upside down, acting as both teacher and lover, friend and maddeningly exotic adversary. Her dark past and incomplete back story consumes Antonio, who now wants to know everything about her and her earlier, murdered paramour. In fact the book now takes a turn towards a mystery novel where Antonio now wants to know more about Xu, Fumi and the Empress, but his quest gets more and more dangerous, because the anti-foreigner Boxer Rebellion has started. Whose side are the Chinese on? Are they friend, or foe? What will happen to Antonio and hs quest for the cure? These answers take up the last third of the book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In the middle of all this there are a host of characters, mostly European, some with important and many others with bit parts to play - most of them representing various nationalities who stay in closed walled communities, gotten rich because of the opium trade, but now scared for their livelihoods (and lives) because of the incipient and inevitable Boxers' "spirit army" revolution. Add to these eunuchs, prostitutes, soldiers, beggars, thieves, and you have a cornucopia of characters that should make for a rollickingly colourful and exciting book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The puzzle then for me was - and there is no way to put it delicately - with all these elements mixed in, why is so much of the book such a crashing bore?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There were stages in the book where I could barely will myself to turn the next page, so somnolent were the words, so static the story. Of course some parts are interesting and informative, but nowhere while reading the book could I ever use the word "excited" to describe my experience. Now, I am perfectly willing to believe that it's my failing. My tastes might have been corrupted by reading too many Steig Larssons and not enough "literary novels". But the truth is, as I reread my comments above, they seem to promise a book more interesting than the one I actually read. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is not to say it's a bad book. It is obviously is the product of an enormous amount of research. I just wish Mr. Basu had resisted the impulse to put it all in this one book - the number of characters is immense - at least 5-10 could have easily been cut out. Some details are redundant - used only to prove Mr. Basu's research rather than contribute to the book in any tangible way. I get the feeling there is a more interesting book hidden within this one - one that is only 250 pages long instead of the current 350 odd pages.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For people who like arcana and milieu-based novels, this book might yet be a good read. I suggest they go for it. People who prefer shorter, snappier, faster reads should probably skip this one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This review originally appeared on the <a href="http://thebookloversreview.blogspot.in/2012/05/guest-review-yellow-emperors-cure.html" target="_blank">Book Lovers Review Blog</a> on May 21, 2012. </span></div>
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</div>Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-2557105828071040782012-04-23T16:08:00.000+05:302012-04-24T11:25:29.806+05:30Implementing the RTE: Practical Solutions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Since the government passed the Right to
Education Act (RTE), the nation has been feverishly debating the tenets. Now
that the Supreme Court has validated the act, the reality has finally set in.
This act is law and thus, has to be implemented.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the last few days may educators and
pundits have written about the RTE, from both positive and negative points of
view. As expected, Left leaning commentators like Mihir Sharma have <a href="http://www.business-standard.com/india/news/mihir-s-sharma-our-creamy-layer/471249/" target="_blank">lauded </a>the
act, while others like Meeta Sengupta have been more critical (see <a href="http://blogs.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/educable/entry/range-management" target="_blank">here</a>, and
<a href="http://www.dailypioneer.com/columnists/item/51456-right-to-education-skirts-real-issues-harms-private-rights.html" target="_blank">here</a>). Basically in a simplified fashion, the points for and against the act
are these:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">I</span><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">ndia is an elitist country and
quality education has been restricted to a few. The RTE democratises education.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Schools that have taken
government aid or land at subsidised rates have a duty to abide by government
rules and policies. In any case the government already mandates many rules for
private schools.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Education needs to be more
democratic to give real life lessons to kids. In foreign countries, every one
studies together regardless of social background.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">It is the duty of private
citizens to provide for their less fortunate brethren in terms of education, in
terms of increased fees.</span></li>
</ul>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Against<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></span></b></div>
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<li><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">This is forced social
engineering. You cannot put different societies into a room together and force
them to get along. There will be grave adjustment issues.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">The government should not have
a say in what private schools do or who they admit, especially since they are
not helping in any way.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">The law is illogical and
un-implementable. There are too many unanswered questions and the government
has taken no step in trying to even provide a practical approach to addressing
them.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">The government is outsourcing,
free of cost, its duties of educating society, while not caring about abysmal
standards of its own schools.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-CA" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The school fees of children in
private schools will increase, as they will have to subsidize 25% extra
children and the school will obviously pass the burden on to them. This will
cause a huge burden to middle-class families who struggle to send their
children to private schools.</span></span></li>
</ul>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Personally, while I understand the social
concern, and support the concept of egalitarian education, I find the the law to be more theoretical than practical. I feel it's badly thought out, badly framed, and has little connection to the real world it will impact. There are little or no guidelines for implementation, and based on the Education Minister's remarks it would seem that the law will be implemented, in most cases, on a wing and a prayer. Supporters of the law could call me biased and there's a case to be made for that, since I send my
daughter to a private English medium school, automatically catapulting me to
the ranks of the “elite”. However, my attempt is, independent of personal preferences, to see how best it can be implemented. The law is passed and the die has been cast. I am more focused on the addressing the real-world problems that implementation will undoubtedly throw up. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Implementation<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It <i>has</i> to be </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">implemented, we all know that now. The question is - what is the most effective (I was admonished for using the word "painless") in a previous draft) method in which it can be implemented to the best benefit of everyone it affects? </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What are the practical ramifications of the law? Most importantly,
what practical measures can a school take to ensure compliance with the least
amount of disruption? I think there are three main angles that need to be considered
by schools while implementing the RTE. These pertain to Social, Educational,
and Financial disparities between the children.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>1. Educational Disparity</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Adjustment issues can be mitigated by initially
creating a separate section for underprivileged children. Now please note, I am
not advocating segregation. What the separate section will do is provide a path
to gradually assimilating them to a new culture and way of schooling they might
not have been used to in the past. This will work like a remedial education class, with the objective that after a fixed time period, say a year at most, all the children will be integrated into mixed classrooms.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The temporary </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">separate</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">academic activities for
the underprivileged kids, would ensure that the teachers can concentrate on coaching them
to knowledge and skill levels equivalent to an ‘elite’ child before they can
study together. This will ensure that the poor kids do not feel inferior or
insecure at the beginning, and also that the class is not interrupted while the
teacher has to repeatedly explain linguistic concepts to some kids, where the
others are proficient already.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>2. Social Disparity</b></i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Along with education, the school will also
have to ensure that there is a path towards a future where the social
disparities between the children do not impact their growth and education
negatively. This is easier said than done because class biases are frequently
ingrained in children from an early age on both sides of the social tracks.
However, children are also very adaptable and far more willing to abandon their
biases when presented with the correct opportunities and education – both by
teachers and parents. One way of doing this effectively is through sporting
activities.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is my belief that even as the academics
is disaggregated at the beginning via different classrooms, the games/sports time
SHOULD be spent together, giving the kids from different social and financial
level/strata an opportunity to interact while at their most equal, carefree,
and happiest. And it has been observed,
and you might agree, that children bond best while playing together without
being influenced by social encumbrances. Other non-academic areas of
integration would include cultural activities – music, singing, poetry, and
dramatics – where all kids can participate at equal levels. This non-academic
interaction will foster a healthy respect for each other’s abilities and
talents outside of the pressure of academic comparisons and performance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This phased integration will help in ensuring
that the “culture shock” is reduced and dispersed over a period of a a few months (maybe a year at most) and the children can ease into studying, and interacting with each other
on an equal basis.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>3. Financial Disparity</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the elephants in the room that “elite”
parents fear but don’t talk about, except in the safe confines of their living
rooms, is the fear of their kids being targeted because of their financial
status. This targeting, they fear, can take the form of snatched away food from
tiffin boxes, or stolen watches, compass boxes, pens etc. This fear, however unfounded, makes them hesitate to put their kids in mixed settings.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While this fear might rarely realized in
practical life, there still is the possibility that a "poor" child will be
enticed at the sight of a shiny new compass box that his parents would not be
able to afford him/her, especially given the predilection of rich parents nowadays
to gift expensive baubles to the apples of their eyes to prove their love on a continuing
basis.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The only effective way to address this bias is for
the school to decree that the students not carry any item to school that be
above a certain monetary value. The school can, for example, mandate a couple
of brands of reasonably priced compass boxes that everyone should purchase. The
same goes for notebooks, calculators etc. Kids have no need of wearing watches
in junior school, in any case. Cellphones and PlayStations should be banned
outright. </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Many schools have actually implemented this
rule already, with fair success. Now this will have to be done not just as a
nice-to-have, but a need-to-have.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Conclusion</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I feel these measures would ensure that the
act can be implemented with the least amount of disruption in the educational
lives of our children. It is not going to be easy, and there will be many
barriers to the successful implementation of the RTE, but since implementation
is imminent, the best way to do it is in a planned, calm, and practical manner.
To do this we have to both confront and address our experiences, biases, and
conditioning and take measures to mitigate as many possible problems as we can
think of.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally, I sincerely believe that the
school boards like (ICSE, CBSE, the state and international boards will have to
get into the act to ensure that their curriculum is amended to address the new
requirements. Innovations like multi-track curricula, incorporation of regional
language education into the main curriculum, and flexible scientific testing
will be needed to allow all children to perform at a certain level. It is only
when the curricula are flexible enough to adapt itself to changing realities
that the act will really be successful in implementation. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-73076371900000115752012-04-17T16:04:00.001+05:302012-04-17T16:07:35.712+05:30The Old Man In The Housing Complex<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I first heard about the old man in our housing complex from my daughter's 16-year old babysitter. I mean before that I had seen him walking around the complex but didn't really know anything about him till the babysitter spoke to me about him. Now a bit of background - our housing complex is similar to hundreds in Bombay, a group of buildings aggregated together in almost haphazard fashion in a certain area with a common boundary wall. Each building was a different housing society sharing a common area where the kids played every evening. As you'd expect there are many kids in the complex - ranging from a few months old (in their mothers' arms) to preteens playing "lukka chhupi" to teenagers knocking a football or a shuttlecock around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Coming back to this "uncle" - he was seen every evening walking around the complex a few times carrying his infant grandson in his arms - the very picture of a loving, doting grandfather. After a while, a little tired due to his age and the burden of lifting a young child, he would down on a chair near where the kids play and watch them, an indulgent smile on his face, intermittently talking to his grandson in his arms. Sometimes he would call out to the playing kids and talk to them. Sometimes he would shout encouragement in their sporting endeavours. Sometimes he would ask the girls to come closer him and tickle and play with his cute baby grandson in his lap, as young girls are wont to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So apparently this old man was very fond of the young girls who play together in the complex. A little too fond, according to the babysitter. He would call them, run fingers through their hair, caress their cheeks, put an arm around them - all pretty innocent gestures, except that the hand would remain in their hair just a tad too long, the pat would last just that little bit longer, the arm around the waist would squeeze that little bit harder, than the girls were comfortable with. Added to that were some inappropriate comments. Once he said to the babysitter when she wore shorts - "Aaj tum bahut sexy dikh rahi ho" ("You are looking very sexy today"). She was so shocked she never wore shorts in the playground again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The thing was - she never told me this at the time it happened. I learned about this a few months later when I mentioned that I had taken a picture of a cute boy who was being carried around by his grandfather with my camera. Her immediate reaction was - "Bhaiyya woh achha admi nahin hai. Ajeeb hai" ("He is not a nice man. He is weird."). Upon my asking why she recounted the incidents to me. My immediate concern was my daughter, of course and I asked he if he had ever tried to get close to Tee (our nickname for her). He had not, to our relief, either because she was too young, or or because Tee was too indifferent to an old man sitting in a chair to walk up and talk to him. Plus the babysitter had ensured that she never let Tee get close to that man.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My mind was in a whirl. There were other children to consider, not just mine. On the other hand, there was no reason for taking any direct action because he had not done anything illegal. There had been no molestation as such - just an unnamed feeling of discomfort. <span style="line-height: 1.3;">I reiterated to the babysitter that while the man had not done anything bad yet, it made perfect sense for her to not just keep Tee away from him under ALL circumstances, but ensure all girls in the complex - maids, kids, babysitters, everyone - be careful around him.</span><span style="line-height: 1.3;"> I was also curious if it was just her overactive imagination that had made her feel that way. However, that she said, </span><span style="line-height: 1.3;">Interestingly, that other girls who she played with, had also experienced the same sense of ickiness when near this man. And best and most gratifyingly, they had actually discussed it among themselves and decided to </span><span style="line-height: 1.3;">collectively, to politely boycott the man! </span><span style="line-height: 1.3;">Either education and knowledge of good and bad touch, or an innate sense of self preservation had made these kids </span>take preventive action on their own! <span style="line-height: 1.3;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That's exactly what happened, and old man soon realized that not a single kid seemed to be interested in talking to him any more. In fact many would just move away from the immediate area when he arrived. Nowadays he stays within himself, still walks his toddler grandson around and does not seem to be trying to befriend other children.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sometimes I wonder - was I overreacting? Was the babysitter lying or overreacting? Were the kids overly imaginative? The answer to all these questions is - Yes, maybe. But how does one know? And how can one take the chance? In the absence of any obvious illegal act, there was nothing official we could do. But it would be equally irresponsible and stupid to ignore or brush aside the feeling that teenage girls get when they are "creeped out". All in all, I thought we reached a satisfactory solution. But still when I see him in the complex now, I shudder involuntarily. Every time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Only one thought bothers me. All indications were that the old man seemingly wanted to be close to girls. But what would I have done if it were boys instead, given he had a grandson he was with all the time? And what if his next grandchild is a girl?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Note:</b> This post is in support of the Child Sexual Abuse Awareness Month - April (<a href="http://csaawarenessmonth.com/">CSAAM</a>), and is cross posted on the CSAAM blog <a href="http://csaawarenessmonth.com/2012/04/17/the-old-man-in-the-housing-complex-survivor-story-4/">here</a>.</span></div>
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</div>Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-49193868278640661632009-02-17T14:53:00.006+05:302010-07-28T02:48:34.308+05:30The Sari Story: A Male Perspective<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">The year: 1987. The cinema theatre.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">A voice crooning, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">“Kate nahin kat te ye din yeh raat…,”</span> Sridevi, and a wet blue sari. Can we ever forget that? That is possibly one of the most iconic cinematic images of our hormonal teenage growing-up years. I can’t say for sure, of course, but that Alisha-Kishore song, and most importantly, the imagery, might just have been the spark for the lifelong fascination with the 6 to 9 yard garment known as the sari.</span></o:p></span><br />
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</span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;">Flashback to: 1975-1980. Childhood.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Of course the sari has played a role in my life throughout - both before and after Sridevi, apart from cinema. Most of the earliest memories for Indians are entwined within the saris of our</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">mothers and grandmothers. How safe those folds of my granny’s sari were, how warm and inviting - a place of repose, rest, and recuperation. A place where I could hide from strangers, and place from where play peek-a-boo with friends. A normal accepted ritual was wiping my hands with my granny’s pallu after washing my hands. It was as if no matter how much soap I used, the cleansing was complete only with the soft touch of granny’s sari. For many growing-up years the sari was a secular garment, representing only the daily and the mundane, the safe and the trusted. It was something every older (a generation older than me) woman around me wore daily - a functional, even slightly mundane dress.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Then the teenage years, and the hormones, kicked in. The sari would never be the same again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;">The year: 1987. School.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">I blame Mrs. Mathur for changing our view of the sari totally and irreversibly. No fault of hers really, when I look back and think about it. She was the junior English teacher at our school. I am sure she walked and talked the same way for the many years we knew her. I am even sure she wore the sari exactly the same way. But wonder of wonders - suddenly one day she looked different. The hitherto purposeful walk seemed feline, the so-far straight posture seemed louche, and the sari, from being a practical, usual dress, suddenly seems artfully draped to tease us with that louche felinity, with brief glimpses of skin - a sleeveless shoulder here, a bare waist there. It was suddenly almost too much to bear. In front of our very eyes, Mrs. Mathur had metamorphosed from a fairly unremarkable, sweet lady into a menace to hormonal teenagers’ educational prospects.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Then came Sridevi and the song, and the blue chiffon. Sigh.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;">Forward to: 2002. College hostel. Saraswati Puja in Kolkata.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">This was the one occasion where we were allowed into the girls’ hostel (and vice versa), ostensibly to view the idol and pay our respects so we could all get a good education. As it turned out, the most awesome education on the occasion was driven the fact that all the girls wore saris that day. A frisson of disbelieving excitement ran around the room. Where was the pimply girl who we liked to make fun of? Where was the fashion disaster who would wear large bindis with jeans? What happened to the girls in skirts but with hairy legs? We gaped with open mouths - the girls we met every day in college, and frequently ignored, suddenly seemed to have been replaced with magazine models in their colorful and distinctive saris! What a revelation for the gangly, awkward, sweaty boys wearing mismatched clothes! Saris actually made women look even better than they normally did. In fact saris made them look beautiful! Sounds obvious now, but at the time I (and I would bet most of us), suddenly felt unworthy to be standing before such a collection of statuesque, unattainable beauty. It was a sober, bemused lot that came out of the girls’ hostel that day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;">Year: 2005. University days in Pune.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I could barely believe it. Two amazing things had happened. First, I had a date for New Year’s Eve (someone actually agreed!). And second, she was wearing a black sari (yessss!), when we went to pick her up in my friend’s car on our way to the RSI Army Ball. I was also dressed smartly for a change, but how proud I felt to have that lady in beautiful black silk dancing with me that evening. She just stood apart from the usual skirt and dress wearing girls – resplendent and statuesque. I got a renewed respect for the sari that day. Of course she didn’t have much to do with me after that, but while my memory of her has faded, the memory of that sari remains distinct.</span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">What explains this fascination men have for saris? The short answer is - I don’t know. I am sure experts will be able to provide psychological, Freudian, Jungian, Oedipal explanations. But what I know is this – there is no other dress that enhances women’s intrinsic beauty like the sari does. And it doesn’t ever get old. How can it? Look at the variety! Look at the styles! Imagine in your mind’s eye, Malayali women in cream and gold huddled around a rangoli celebrating Onam, and then the Bengalis celebrating Durga Puja in their white and red bordered saris, smearing sindur on each other. Imagine Gayitri Devi in the finest silk and Rekha in a Kanjeevaram; remember Indira Gandhi in handloom weaves, and Raja Ravi Verma’s ladies in Paithanis.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">It’s been a long relationship - saris and me, and I still cannot get enough. Of course I might be open to charges of sexism, and I have been told so by women occasionally, because I extol the aesthetic virtues of the sari apparently without caring for the difficulties women face in wearing and getting around in them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">In my defence, while the sexism is unintentional, the aesthesis is ingrained n the male gaze. I cannot help it. Long live the sari!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">A version of this article was published in eSakal in November.</span></span></span></div>Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-18011539442306199642008-11-28T22:39:00.006+05:302008-11-28T22:55:10.661+05:30India's 9/11 (part 2)Okay here are a few more thoughts:<br /><br />1. What if we cancel white elephant deals like buying an old warship like Admiral Gorshkov and use the $2 billion to create an urban counterinsurgency force with the latest in training and equipment? Maye we can just train and arm the current NSG better!<br /><br />2. What if we decide to have a moratorium on all elections for 5 years and use the money saved to replace the policemen's trusty bamboo lathis and 303s with submachine guns and the flappy cardboard "bulletproof" ponchos (for want of a better word) with Kevlar?<br /><br />3. What if we institute the draft, where every person between 18 and 20 gets a compulsory one/two years of army experience, like Israel, so that everyone has some knowledge of what to do in emergency situations?<br /><br />4. Dunno, but here's another thought. What if we have templated rapid action response plans based on a 100 hundred hypothetical emergency situations, so that it does not take 36 hours to realize that the terrorists might be watching TV inside and knowing what is the next step to be taken by the army!<br /><br />5. What if the PM and Leader of the opposition decided to work as a national government for 3 years to ensure that:<br />a) all decision are taken by consensus<br />b) no decision will be opposed for the heck of it<br />c) all decisions are taken in the national interest<br /><br />Radical thought, eh?<br /><br />6. What is Mulayam Singh and company, AND the CPIM politburo are arrested for sedition, for aiding and abetting terrorism, and generally acting against national interest?<br /><br />Ok, now I am floating into pipe dream category. Scratch the last one, but I believe that all the others are practicable, if there is political will and genuine love for the nation.Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-37546942933654772082008-11-27T21:23:00.002+05:302008-11-27T21:36:15.473+05:30Our 9/1126th November is our 9/11.<br /><br />I don't know why, but the fact is that this attack on Mumbai is different from all that has happened before. Bomb blasts are one thing. But this is unspeakable, maybe because this is so preventable. A little better security, a little better anticipation, and we could have given a far better answer to those bastards. Consider the following:<br /><br />1. What if all hotels had emergency exits, smoke alarms and enough space around them so that fire engines could reach even the floors easily?<br /><br />2. What if the fire engines and firefighters had better equipment so that they could reach higher into tall buildings is required? What is they had access to floor plans of all the major buildings and complexes in their vicinity. What if these plans were all fed into a central database accessible by all emergency services?<br /><br />3. What if there were a protocol for all armed services to work together seamlessly in the event of domestic terror attacks?<br /><br />4. What if they had better equipment than "bullet proof" vests that flap in a weak breeze?<br /><br />5. What is there is a laid out response plan for several different terrorism situations? Step-by-step response levels so that it does not take 20 hours to realize that cable connections to the hotels should be cut to prevent terrorists from knowing what was happening outside?<br /><br />Sigh...more later...I guessShanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-10744340946493450642007-07-04T14:49:00.000+05:302007-07-04T15:52:27.021+05:30Revenge of the Tasteless: The Himesh Movie<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Aap Ka Surroor...The Moviee...The Real Luv Story</span> is a hit. And I was trying to understand why.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I guess this movie is a hit because it finally breaks all pretensions. No pretension to acting, no pretension to having a story, no pretension to good music, no pretension to logic - even the character is named after the leading man! This is the ultimate self referential movie. This movie is not hypocritical at all. It never even wants to rise to the level of art. IT does not care whether it should be called cinema or even have a plot. It is a WYSWYG movie in totality - a movie made by Himesh for his fans who want to watch Himesh - good, bad, or ugly.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Look at the people who feel justified by this movie. Talentless hacks with huge egos, people with quirky sartorial tastes, paedophiles who eye pubescent girls, supporters of the indiscriminate use of the Hindu mantras, autorickshawalas who dream of banging into expensive cars in rage, bald men wearing caps - all are going to be inspired by this movie, and that's a significant percentage of the population!</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">From the fans perspective, this is the <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Revenge of the Tasteless</span>. Too long have they been looked down upon by the more articulate, the intelligent, the snobbish for their lowbrow tastes in music and idols. Too long have they suffered that inferiority complex just because they could not appreciate serious movies or Gulzar's lyrics, or classical music. This is their breakthrough. Himesh has proven to them that lowbrow is acceptable, it is prevalent, it is en vogue, and of course, it is now also desirable! Not only should people accept their stupidity, they should revel in it, be proud of it, and propagate it!</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Himesh stands for everything they want to have and, for a change, possibly can have! For if a guy like Himesh can make it big, so can they. When a Hrithik or an Abhishek makes it big, their personalities, skills, physicality, pedigrees are too far above the normal person to even aspire to that level. But Himesh, if he can become a hero and a famous singer with that voice and those looks, then so can the average shopkeeper. No actor currently can claim to be so close to the average Rakesh, Kamlesh, Mahesh, or Durgesh, than Himesh! </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I guess the hoi polloi has spoken. And truly, who among us doesn't have that sneaking admiration for Himesh for having pulled this audacious stunt off? Everyone thought he couldn't, but for him. And he proved everyone wrong. You have to admire that, even if you don't admire the product. Even if you lament the likely effect - more sequels, more singing, more Himesh.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Scurry for cover, all ye with taste. Your days are done.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">PS: To read a great review, go to </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://greatbong.net/">Greatbong's</a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> blog.<br /><br />Cross posted on my other blog - <a href="http://indiacynical.blogspot.com">India Cynical</a><br /></span></span>Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-80363196165009649082007-06-11T17:07:00.001+05:302007-06-12T13:51:23.560+05:30Coach Conundrum<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Well, it seems all Graham Ford wanted was to visit India for a couple of days and feel needed a bit; and maybe a hug as well. He has turned down the most high profile and risky job in the world of sports - coach of the Indian team!!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Let's try and examine the possible reasons:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >1. It was too hot</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> - Truth be told, this was not exactly the ideal time to be visiting India for an interview. The weather might have convinced him that the cooler climes of Kent were vastly preferable to the boiling boondocks of Bombay.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >2. He remembered Woolmer just in time</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> - Maybe someone wanted to gift him a bottle of champagne after he was confirmed. Always a bad idea, especially since the Woolmer champagne incident. He probably began to have visions of being carried out on a subcontinental stretcher!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >3. He felt bad for Emburey</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> - As was reported, after being rejected, Emburey drowned his sorrows in drink the the hotel bar. Maybe there they met, and Emburey poured his heart out to Ford. How he needed the job, how his 8 children were going to starve otherwise, how his wife really wanted to get that natural tan in India....Ford is, by all accounts a people person. Maybe he couldn't take the guilt.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >4. He saw the Indian team practice</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> - That would demoralize the best of men, watching this team running, fielding, batting, and bowling. Can't blame him for thinking that this job would not only be Herculean, but Sisyphean as well.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >5. He saw Dravid captain </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">- That would be a deal breaker for any coach, actually, except for Greg Chappell, who was fine because he got to captain the team by proxy himself. Ford being a back room boy, might have balked at being another Daddy to Dravid.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Okay, so what now? There are a few options that BCCI would be comfortable with. These are given in order of BCCI preference:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Coach Options<br /><br />Option 1: Get Ravi Shastri to coach through the TV </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">- This is very viable and Ravi will have no qualms doing that. After all he can run down to the pavilion and coach the team every alternate 30 mins when he is off his commentary time. BCCI already think he's a winner because he was team "manager" during the wildly successful tour of Bangladesh! And Shastri can be counted upon never to let ethics get in the way of a little coaching on the side.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><br />Option 2: Ask Gavaskar to just appoint coach himself </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">- After all Gavaskar has given his opinion on everything so far. The only thing he will </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >not</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> do is take any responsibility himself. However, before we condemn him for that, we must remember that he has taken tremendous responsibility in criticizing whatever others have been saying or doing.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Option 3: Appoint Mohinder Amarnath coach</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> - What a refreshing change it will be to get back to the halcyon days of cricket - where there were no computers, bowling machines, or technology to intrude on the simple pleasures of playing cricket. Mohinder will show how a team can be coached only with the help of a small Indian flag.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Option 4: Appoint John Emburey as coach</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> - Well, we have rejected Dav Whatmore, and Ford's rejected us. That leaves only one foreigner in the fray - the lucky loser Emburey! With Gavaskar's support (bet even Gavaskar didn't see this one coming), he could well be a great stop gap coach for the next three years. Looked at it one way, he doesn't have much to lose. He can't be worse than Chappell (no one can), and expectations will be rock bottom anyway, so whatever he does will be accepted with equanimity.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Option 5 - Appoint Sandeep Patil coach</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> - Naah, forget it. Scratch that option. He's only coached Kenya to the WC semis, and he's has coaching practice and credentials, but c'mon, a) he's Indian, and b) he's never solicited for the job either to the BCCI or to famous senior players. Who the f*** does he think he is anyway?<br /><br />___________________<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Update:<br /><br /></span>It seems Emburey has rejected the position as well. Maybe he wasn't comfortable accepting charity from a fellow Englishman. That kind of reduces our options a bit doesn't it? But no fear. <a href="http://greatbong.net">Greatbong</a> has the perfect solution!<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span>Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-1170774793531709392007-02-06T20:07:00.000+05:302007-06-11T17:49:44.708+05:30The Politics of "Articulate"<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong>Poor Joe Biden has got himself into trouble by praising Barack Obama. You might well ask, how can someone get into trouble by praising another person? Well that happens in PC America. His mistake? He called Obama "articulate", and the shit hit the fan. Evidently the word is racist when used for Blacks. I didn't know that, and I bet neither did Biden, but there it is. The liberal left and the African American intelligentsia is outraged. The NYT has some astoundingly spluttering, enraged reactions...<br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/04/weekinreview/04clemetson.html?em&ex=1170910800&en=e965e708322fe7dd&ei=5087%0A"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now this really irritates me. How does one know which word is offensive to a certain section of society? Should this just be a hit or miss? Maybe oppressed minorities all over the world should come out with a list of words and contexts in which they are offensive. And remember, even if you take care not to praise a Black person in case he/she finds it condescending, there is no guarantee that others will not. Take this quote in the same article: </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">"But here is a pointer. Do not use it as the primary attribute of note for a black person if you would not use it for a similarly talented, skilled or eloquent white person. Do not make it an outsized distinction for Brown University’s president, Ruth Simmons, if you would not for the University of Michigan’s president, Mary Sue Coleman. Do not make it the sole basis for your praise of the actor Forest Whitaker if it would never cross your mind to utter it about the expressive Peter O’Toole."<br /></span><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></em><br /></span><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:0;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><em></em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hmm...okay, but what about other non-balanced contexts? Can I use the word for Mary Sue Coleman, if I don't use it for Lawrence Summers? Or will she then consider it offensive because I used it for a woman and not a man?<br /><br />What if I use it for Paris Hilton instead of Susan Sarandon. Will Paris be offended because she is part of the mentally retarded minority? Hahahaha...okay the last sentence was a joke. I wonder who would call Paris Hilton articulate? Lindsey Lohan perhaps.<br /><br />Anyway, coming back to the original point, it's probably time that minority stop scrutinizing each and every comment, or statement, or word through the prism of racism and just sometimes give speakers the benefit of the doubt. Remember the human vocabulary, especially English is really not enough to convey our thoughts completely ad sometimes we use words because there are no immediate alternatives in our minds. The intentions needen't be racist all the time. And neither are words. A word like "articulate" is in no way comparable to, say, the N word because "articulate" is used universally.<br /><br />Let us not vilify and marginalize a word just because of perceived connotations. We have already done the same with "gay" and "come". Let's not put "articulate" in the same category.<br /><br />Our vocabulary is limited as it is.<br /></span>Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-1168497869600376962007-01-11T11:26:00.000+05:302007-06-11T17:50:12.194+05:30Things I Did that Make Me Cringe Now<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Have you ever done something makes you cringe when you think about that now? You know, stuff that makes you go - "I can't believe I actually liked that novel!" or "How could I ever watch that movie 4 times?" No? Well I have few skeletons like that in my closet - things that makes me want to jump off a cliff in shame when I think about them now. Let's talk about a few, but please, please don't judge me... Heh<br /><br />1) <span style="font-weight: bold;">I used to love Yash Chopra Movies.</span> There. I've said it. There was a time when I thought Yash Chopra was the greatest director in Bollywood. I had his filmography memorized. I loved <span style="font-style: italic;">Silsila, Kabhi Kabhi, Chandni, Lamhe, Darr,</span> all of them. I loved the mushy romance, and the white sarees. I thought even Sridevi looked good in <span style="font-style: italic;">Chandni</span>. I loved the songs. Arrrghhh!<br /><br />I know. The malaise was deep and dangerous. I grew out of that only by the end of my graduation days. Luckily. Now I trash the films like the best of them. Yay!<br /><br />2) <span style="font-weight: bold;">I used to think Shah Rukh was a great actor.</span> This started in school. I know. Simply inexcusable. But what to do? We were all such great fans of <span style="font-style: italic;">Fauji</span>, that we wanted to see him in anything. I watched <span style="font-style: italic;">Circus</span> avidly. I even watched <span style="font-style: italic;">Doosra Kewal</span>. Ah, I bet you don't remember that one. And what about <span style="font-style: italic;">Idiot</span>, based on Doestoevsky? He was there in all of them.<br /><br />And then, after an expectant lull, came <span style="font-style: italic;">Deewana</span>, his debut film! As he banged his head against the wall (literally) and croaked, "Maa, mujhe Kajal de de maaaaa..", we were transported! What an intense actor! What passion! It took us a while to realize that we would be watching variations of that scene again, and again, and some more, for the next 10 years, interspersed with the other expression, the dimpled smile.<br /><br />It took Aamir Khan to teach me what acting was.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">PS: But I still feel that the only movie in which SRK acted "Aamiresque" was </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa</span><span style="font-size:85%;">, his best till date. Conversely, Aamir acted like SRK in a movie called </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Mela</span><span style="font-size:85%;">. Strictly avoid.</span><br /><br />3) <span style="font-weight: bold;">I used to like Ravi Shastri. </span>This is simply too much, I agree. But in my defense, I was a sensitive child. I used to feel for the guy. He was booed all the time, in every match, in every venue without fail. I used to feel sorry for him. But there was no effect on him at all! Then he captained India in one match, and we won that. A 100% record. How about that? I used to argue that we missed a fine captain, much to the amusement of my uncles and other relatives. My one moment of vindication was the Champion of Champions trophy, where he bowled us to victory and got that dratted car.<br /><br />As wisdom grew, and adulthood happened, and I got to hear more and more from him on ESPN etc, I realized what a disaster India had averted. I also began to more smpathetic to the wisdom of crowds. To his credit, he does not exhibit any shame at all, either when putting his hand on women's thighs on the <span style="font-style: italic;">Shaz and Waz Show</span>, exhorting batsmen to bat fast (hahaha), defending Sachin Tendulkar come what may, or when trashing Sourav Ganguly come what may. He is, as always, a consistent idiot.<br /><br />4) <span style="font-weight: bold;">I thought baggy pants were cool.</span> How I used to envy the classmate who wore the baggiest trousers while I was wearing straight cuts. Sigh. In retrospect, thank goodness for my granny's rationality, who simply refused to buy me one.<br /><br />5) <span style="font-weight: bold;">I supported VP Singh.</span> This, I am truly, madly, deeply ashamed of. These were school days, when we had suddenly started thinking what with Bofors and all, Rajiv Gandhi was ruining the nation. VP Singh, the clean, uncorrupt crusader was going to be the messiah. We wore VP buttons to school, and when the elections came, I actually cast a false vote (being underage) against the Congress, just to make VP win.<br /><br />We know what happened later. Mandal, Devi Lal. Unmitigated disaster. That incident shook me up so much that I have never voted again in my life, and has coloured my impressions of politicians irrevocably. Not just me. An entire generation of idealistic youngsters like me have been traumatised by their misguided support for this slimy, populist son of many fathers. VP Singh, you snake. I hope you rot in hell. And I hope you get there soon!!!!<br /></span></span>Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-1168421249130438632007-01-10T14:47:00.000+05:302007-01-22T16:11:36.496+05:30Someone asked to make blogging regularly my new year resolution. Easier said, and even more easily done - the resolution, I mean. Sticking to it is like giving up smoking - I haven't been very successful in either.<br /><br />Let's see. I will be in the US for a month starting 15th. Maybe away from the vissicitudes of Bombay life, I will get more time to update my blog. Or am I consoling myself?Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-1138355373255541972006-01-27T14:53:00.000+05:302007-01-10T14:50:02.496+05:30I have to write about the most amazing film I have seen in the last couple of years. Yes, I watched <span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Rang De Basanti</strong></span> yesterday.<br /><br />I don't have the time to review the film right now (if you want a good review visit Rashmi Bansal's blog <a href="http://youthcurry.blogspot.com">here</a>. but all I can say is - GO AND SEE IT! It's a must for all people who love films, great acting, and fantastic music.<br /><br />And yes, it's original - totally. Maybe I'll post more about it later.Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15383332.post-1138102554298915972006-01-24T16:58:00.000+05:302006-10-14T20:52:49.723+05:30<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Hello and welcome. This is a new blog so there is bound to be a lag before i get any visitors at all. But let's start anyway. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I usually have plenty to say, but not enough time to say all of it. That lack of time probably accounts for the sanity of my near and dear ones.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;">Let's just hope I will have time to compose and post regularly. No specific topic, but whatever comes to my mind. The posts will be interesting, even provocative, so that some discussion is generated. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span>Shanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04083544175413836627noreply@blogger.com1