tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-227141972024-03-19T09:18:14.673+05:30LovemarksEvery thought comes from the heart to leave a mark on the mind...
<a href="http://www.copyscape.com/"><img src="http://banners.copyscape.com/images/cs-ye-3d-234x16.gif" alt="Protected by Copyscape Plagiarism Detector" title="Protected by Copyscape Plagiarism Checker - Do not copy content from this page." width="234" height="16" border="0"></a>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-12929860513661637762009-06-26T17:33:00.001+05:302009-06-26T18:07:17.650+05:30RIP MJ!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was quite shocking to hear that Michael Jackson is no more... and he passed away just like that. All too suddenly. And too early.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Like many others, I have grown up on his music and danced to many of his tunes. And although I never imitated his moonwalk, I so loved watching him do it. What an exceptionally talented musician and performer! A 'super star' in all ways! </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Few years ago when he was accused of being a child abuser, I could not believe it. Only because he himself came across as such a child and a shy one too. It was more disheartening to hear about it as he was someone who I really liked and respected. I guess it was never easy to come out of a childhood he actually never had, be such a wonderful musician and great entertainer, change his looks and bear all the criticism and glare that came with the spotlight. I always feel that someone who can give so much joy and happiness to people through something so beautiful as music, cannot be a bad person at all. Maybe misguided yes, but not bad. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I read somewhere,"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Michael lived his life in the spotlight and spotlights provide selective lllumination. They also create a lot of shadow, in which much can hide. " </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And hide he did. As much as he could. And as far as he could go. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And gone he is now forever. In to his own Neverland, finally, never to grow up. Hopefully he is happy and at peace now, wherever he may be.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His songs touched all our lives and his mysterious life captured all our imaginations. In death too, he cast a mystery, probably fuelling more angst and rumour than he did when he was alive. The legendendary MJ is no more... but the legend of MJ will always live. For legend he is and will long remain so.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">RIP, Michael Jackson. God bless. You'll be missed by us all who love music.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-41850278924049759172009-03-05T19:33:00.015+05:302009-03-08T14:10:27.665+05:30This one is for you Zhya!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For the past 3 months I have been sitting down to pen my thoughts on the overwhelming feeling that <a href="http://love-marks.blogspot.com/2009/01/rip.html">Zhya</a>'s name brings. And I just have not been able to. There's so much going on in my head and heart that I am unable to fathom it all, to say the least. Somewhere I am also trying not to believe in reason and reality.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And today, when I saw Z's mom on Facebook(FB), I got very emotional. I have never met her till date, but I did see her (for the first time) during Zhya's funeral and of course never had the guts to go meet her, anyway drowned as I was, in my own tears. And normally, I don't just connect to a friend's parent on FB (or any social networking site) unless I know that person really well, and here the connection was a good friend but still it was different. It's a sad irony that I have come to know Z's mom because of his passing away.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Z was one of the few people on my regular close friends mailing list. And so now, when I write and send the mails, I have to literally make a conscious effort to delete his name from the list. And once in a while when his name pops up in some stuff that I am searching in my email account, maybe discussed during our chats or the to and fro mails... I actually pause and go numb. Of course I cannot and will not ever delete his name from my contacts list!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And on FB/Orkut/ Linkedin or whatever groups we were on, when I see his smiling face come on the friends' box or the contacts list, I actually smile and plan to write or message him, and then realise he's not going to be reading it. But I still write on his FB wall once in a while, when it gets unbearable. And just a line saying that he was thought of... as he always is.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If it's so hard for me, I cannot imagine what it must be for closest friends and especially his family... every thing around must be reminding them of him. And if I am feeling it, they are more than ever living it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And what is surprising, maybe to many others too, is that we were never really close in college. We were classmates, friendly enough- you could not but help being friends with him, he was such a nice guy.- but we belonged to different 'groups'. It was after college, when we both began our individual professions, me as a writer and he as a budding architect, was when we really got to know each other better. Later on, I even wrote about his first architecture building he had designed in Mumbai... and I was very proud and happy for him then.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He went to Harvard (too) for his further studies and then on, we were regularly in touch for a long time. In between he went underground and no one knew where he was or what he was doing, save a few... and surprisingly again, I happened to be one of those few he still was in touch and his college friends who were so close to him then were now asking me his whereabouts. Of course, Z was always like a burning light, and hard to keep down for long... and when he did resurface it was to a much better life in all ways.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But one that lasted for a very short while only.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Zhya Jacobs, brilliant architect, helpful colleague, intellectual advisor, great communicator and writer, warm,sweet and funny friend and a wonderful, sensitive human being passed away on Nov 11, 2008... It's been 3 months since and he's being missed- a lot...or perhaps not really so much if you still can believe he's around somewhere, looking at you. I do.</span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-25942386649242689052009-02-25T16:54:00.004+05:302009-02-25T18:27:21.626+05:30Slumdog Millionaire... an overload?<div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="note_content text_align_ltr direction_ltr clearfix"> <div><b>I am thrilled that A.R Rahman and Resul won their respective Oscars!!! I am really proud of them... because AR is what he is, and both being Indians.</b><br /><br />But it ends for me there... You see, when I saw Slumdog Millionaire (SM from now on), I had liked it- it's a typical 'Bollywood-style' movie. But at no point did I think it such a great movie that it could win the Oscars! And I also think that AR has made some other great numbers that qualify better than 'Jai ho!'<br /><br />I had read the book Q&A by Vikas Swarup, when it was just released. And I thoroughly enjoyed it as a good pastime read... and although the movie has been scripted from the same, the title and the modifications done to the story completely change the movie into something else.<br /><br />I watched the entire Oscar presentation, and when I saw clips of the other movies, I suddenly was not sure if SM even came close to their category. Or even close to some of our own.<br /><br />The past few days and months, I've been reading and noticing mixed responses about this movie. A lot of them went to see SM because 'everybody' was raving about it... and so have liked it too. Many hated it for the same reason. Very few were clear about their perspective about this movie. I've been seeing messages about SM, with a lot of Indians saying things like, 'what is so jai ho about it or anything else?' and 'its to keep answering here that "no no, Mumbai is not all like that"... and so many others saying 'god, this is not the way it is actually'.<br /><br />In fact, I was part of a jury panel recently with eminent people from all over the country part of it. And during the course of the day, the topic invariably went to SM. And there were some interesting personal viewpoints these people offered. Almost everybody 'knew' that the movie will win the Oscars. And 'because they (the people at Oscars) need to promote India now'. One of the viewpoints was, <i>'Because of recession, the US market is down and of course has hit Hollywood. So they are targetting the next big industry, which is Bollywood and so are promoting everything Indian. Look what happened during the time the fashion industry was facing the crunch, they made Aishwarya and Sushmita Ms.World and Ms.Universe in that one year... unheard of earlier.'</i><br /><br />One of the other viewpoints was, <i>'If this was just projected as a rags-to-riches story, it would have been ok, but making it the story of what goes on in India, is not completely true.'</i> One other was, <i>'If this movie was made by an Indian, would it have made it to the Oscars?'.</i> Hmmm... food for thought and I tend to agree with these points of view.<br /><br />I have come to a general thought that no matter what, the people at Oscars would have a definite reason for this movie to win, and what really matters is that our people won. But having said that...<br /><br />I'm only unnerved with the kind of response the foreigners are giving. Tom Cruise said , <i>"I know of Indian cinema and different stars there. I do see some of their films and they must be very proud of Slumdog Millionaire also. It is fantastic.... I can't wait to go to India."</i> This view sort of gives a picture of what meaning India has suddenly taken for the West.<br /><br />I got a message from a foreign friend from UK, saying <i>'I just saw Slumdog Millionaire... it was awesome........... I so want to come to India!'</i> And I would love for her to come here, but then again I asked myself, what is it that she really wants to see? Dharavi? The rural India in the metro India? The bustling train stations? The Underworld of Mumbai city? Would she really be interested in seeing India for itself or for what she has imagined through the movie?<br /><br /><b>I happened to hear a new term, 'slum tourism'.... Is this what will be the eventuality?</b><br /><br />I see a lot of travel shows on TV- on Nat Geo, Travel & Living and Discovery. There's this one particular show called the Amazing Race, where the participants go treasure hunting in different countries. And I am always excited when they come to India. But the reactions these guys have is not good at all. Most of them find India 'dirty, poor, yeucky, uncultured...etc' And because this show does not edit comments or statements made, one can clearly hear the sound of disdain from these people. Many think it's ok to make fun of people here. And even if they represent a very small fraction of people, they do represent a common mass in their countries.<br /><br /><b>Which takes me back to the question- what is that the foreigners are seeing in SM and they want to come to India, which they have not seen in any of our Hindi movies earlier?</b><br /><span> **************************</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>**************************</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>**************************</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>**************************</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>**************************</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>***<br /><small><br /><i>And this is something I happened to read today... a comment on the post from <a href="http://www.worldhum.com/travel-blog/slumdog-millionaire-hollywood-meet-India-20090112" onmousedown="'return" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.worldhum.com/tr</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>avel-blog/slumdog-milliona</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>ire-hollywood-meet-India-2</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>0090112</a></i><br /><br />Sambit Prem 02.03.09 | 1:35 AM ET<br />Scenes of poverty and squalour may appear romantic to Westerners and to our snooty elite but for us ordinary Indians they are nothing new. They are an everyday reality. However, one wonders what sort of mind can find such images aesthetically pleasing. Party-hopping socialites (for example, Shobhaa De after all her bombast of “enough is enough” after the Mumbai attack, went and watched a pirated copy!) who are distanced from such reality may find this film an “eye-opener” but for us it IS poverty-porn. It IS slum-tourism. The music/soundtrack and the technical quality of the film is excellent; but, overall, “Slumdog Millionaire” is unrealistic & overrated because:<br /><br />1) The director seems to RELISH showing violence. Some of it (like the police-torture) is quite needless. And why was the boy arrested in the first place? On what charge? Was it realistic?<br /><br />2) How can a boy growing up in slums speak such accented English? Even if one assumes that the language he actually uses to communicate with the game-show host and the police officer is Hindi (granting the director the creative license to use a language better suited for international audiences), there are 2 instances where it is stretched too far: (a) when the boy becomes a ‘guide’ for foreign tourists at the Taj Mahal & (b) when he becomes a substitute-operator at the call-centre.<br /><br />3) When the boy uses his ‘lifeline’ during the game-show, his friend discovers that she has forgotten her mobile and has to run back for it. This is plain Bollywood masala! Did the director HAVE to make it so melodramatic?<br /><br />4) How did the boy know who invented the revolver just by watching his brother use it?<br />How does his friend know about Benjamin Franklin (something which many Americans themselves don’t know!)?<br /><br /><b> 5) “Darshan Do Ghanshyam” is NOT written by Surdas. It is written by Gopal Singh Nepali for the movie Narsi Bhagat (1957). This song is also credited as traditional and originally written by 15th century poet Narsi Mehta, whose life that film is based on.</b><br /><br />6) After winning the game-show, the boy sits on the railway platform and nobody recognizes him! Considering the popularity of the show, is that realistic?<br /><br />7) Two glaring omissions: To get invited to the show one has to answer several GK questions over phone or Internet. Even after making it to the show, a contestant can reach the hot-seat only after qualifying through “fastest finger first”. All this is conveniently forgotten in the film.<br /><br />8) And of course the greatest flaw in the storyline: programmes like ‘Kaun Banega Crorepati’ and ‘Who Wants To Be A Millionaire’ are NOT telecast live. As a result the entire structure of the film becomes unrealistic. For a film that boasts of being realistic such a flaw cannot be overlooked.<br /><br />The Academy will lose its credibility if this film gets the Best Picture or Best Director awards.<br /><span> __________________________</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>__________________________</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>_______________________<br /><i>And also read this,</i><br /><span> __________________________</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>__________________________</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>_______________________<br />Subrat 02.25.09 | 4:56 AM ET<br /><br />I totally agree with Sambit Prem. I am sure he is a person with good taste in movies. Those were the points where I did not agree with the director. I find Dev Patel (the lead actor) totally expressionless while delivering the dialogues. Why the police will interrogate a person who wins some prize money? Did the people in the game show written an FIR? If not who did?<br /><br />A R Rahman is very talented. There is no doubt in that but, the song Jai ho is not very much original. What I mean to say by that is anybody can guess it’s a Rahman song after listening to it because Rahman had given this type of music before. His music was much better in Rang de Basanti which went to the Oscars but did not even get nominated. That movie is 1000 times better than Slumdog.<br /><br />I now think all these award functions are a mere marketing gimmick. Hollywood seeing a great opportunity in Indian film Industry right now, so all this is happening. Though this film is a British Movie but lot of people who were associated was Indians. So I think it was just used as a ground to lay the foundation of Hollywood in India. I don’t have any problem in that also as I just want good cinemas to be made. It’s the same as the marketing strategy by Body Shop who continuously choose Indian beauties as Miss World or Miss Universe to create a good Market in India. </small></div></div>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-44740094550598684652009-02-19T22:30:00.000+05:302009-02-19T22:34:40.618+05:30<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Sometimes I pause…</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> motionless.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> As the world whirs around me</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> like a dust storm.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> I gather my thoughts and my feelings</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> and hold them close to me</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> lest they be pulled in</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> by the swirling forms.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> And only when I am sure we are one,</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> I step out.</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> With a protective blanket </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> of dreams</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> around me,</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> Sewed to my body and soul</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> so that I am never alone.</span><br /> <br /> <span style="font-size:78%;"><b style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">(c) D.Athale</b><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> 19th February 2009</span></span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-89652081443356659432009-01-21T12:07:00.008+05:302009-01-21T14:19:48.780+05:30Rah Rah B.H.O!!!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Like many others for sure, I was glued to my television set till the wee hours of the morning! Change has finally arrived, and how! What a day in the history of the USA as well as the world- Barack Hussain Obama becomes USA' s 44th President and the first black to have ever been.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The swelling crowd of people were testimony to the popularity, and more importantly the need for this man to lead the nation. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrKwxdGKvtJEhQ9MPsmQUTEpCnVgBfTmTDL3MfwA5Esosr4sNCcIaQwz2Hza6LuVVM2n1oGj_gtgdy-OuredodidwwQYWTlF785WguOlmsim_cuVQhq7D6_4SQTSmNS3uO6R6/s1600-h/capitol-building-inauguration-bleachers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrKwxdGKvtJEhQ9MPsmQUTEpCnVgBfTmTDL3MfwA5Esosr4sNCcIaQwz2Hza6LuVVM2n1oGj_gtgdy-OuredodidwwQYWTlF785WguOlmsim_cuVQhq7D6_4SQTSmNS3uO6R6/s320/capitol-building-inauguration-bleachers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293661062325069538" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKFEWbmGJafBUs4_hG-ikpMMHaRjjvR1k0OGFjxH04J8TJUIFzZJ8IuOMV18dcc0W2OS6lmCrroLr0Cfy1STkKjp7n_M9biDbnmU6hHUTFEyD6tmOtEOC-1utDaJGZmg-6rYUk/s1600-h/pict444.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKFEWbmGJafBUs4_hG-ikpMMHaRjjvR1k0OGFjxH04J8TJUIFzZJ8IuOMV18dcc0W2OS6lmCrroLr0Cfy1STkKjp7n_M9biDbnmU6hHUTFEyD6tmOtEOC-1utDaJGZmg-6rYUk/s320/pict444.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293661066174203778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The enthusiasm was fabulous- I've never seen Americans so happy! All I could see were happy faces of so many different colours.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And Obama proved that America is truly a big democratic and free country, where a middle-class black man can dream of becoming the President and goes on to be one.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTKHkIRCPuQEyTEmUGXhzrnGIkDWKN6g-bOhPk2_R8gbKuoFVv00G19O1weWIfu0hyphenhyphen0cj-tAfkY-mrsFECSI8W3-xmrRQjUMULkh2hWDPxCBWUMCVWQ1CMj2GSo5MnS8MHV5jx/s1600-h/obama_oath_bbc.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTKHkIRCPuQEyTEmUGXhzrnGIkDWKN6g-bOhPk2_R8gbKuoFVv00G19O1weWIfu0hyphenhyphen0cj-tAfkY-mrsFECSI8W3-xmrRQjUMULkh2hWDPxCBWUMCVWQ1CMj2GSo5MnS8MHV5jx/s320/obama_oath_bbc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293661066123753714" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> When he gave his </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7840926.stm">speech</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, he didn't really give great statements, but what he spoke held the promise of a grand and honest future. And as of now, this is really what his countrymen needed to hear. His voice carried the conviction of his heart and it was felt by each and everyone. I'm sure the Americans were, after a long time, confident in their ability to choose well, as they were in his ability to deliver. It was almost like the stale dusty air that had covered the country was being cleared and a whiff of freshness had started to flow back in... good triumphing over evil, light over darkness... one could almost imagine rainbows as the sun shone brightly over a country that has been so steeped with communalism, hatred, rife and economic meltdown</span>.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQBrMzPPlTO2XcetkEfFdcfNOfCjXpE0G2aruyWBSV2ZZbLsmOs7APBhO7qCq2nz-qF3GXAXV2KISMcUV7uslahISjBrOfAg2cm-mYNwp1aoyYXM8VoXpGC21nLHFYyC3dBCR/s1600-h/art.obama.inspiration.getty-AP.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQBrMzPPlTO2XcetkEfFdcfNOfCjXpE0G2aruyWBSV2ZZbLsmOs7APBhO7qCq2nz-qF3GXAXV2KISMcUV7uslahISjBrOfAg2cm-mYNwp1aoyYXM8VoXpGC21nLHFYyC3dBCR/s320/art.obama.inspiration.getty-AP.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293661065403655890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As Obama and his wife Michelle walked down Pennsylvania Avenue route taking them to the White House, there was a genuine respect and love that was felt in the air between them and the citizens who had been standing for that one glimpse since 4am!</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirBex93CreMnnOkgKR9sGMs74TdpaIRFU0kvttvad8ZW2qDYhH1OJROZC8dLpdZQEOJdT8Ov9DARZWA7w5TaVIlFw41tGpamR0bYN2FIyZ5eZyouSAOCMx6nMa5SM4hkh1FUmO/s1600-h/President+Obama+and+the+first+lady+on+Pennsylvania+Avenue.+Photo-+AP.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirBex93CreMnnOkgKR9sGMs74TdpaIRFU0kvttvad8ZW2qDYhH1OJROZC8dLpdZQEOJdT8Ov9DARZWA7w5TaVIlFw41tGpamR0bYN2FIyZ5eZyouSAOCMx6nMa5SM4hkh1FUmO/s320/President+Obama+and+the+first+lady+on+Pennsylvania+Avenue.+Photo-+AP.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293661072604125410" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is truly a great time for all Americans right now. And the enthusiasm is infectious!</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >ps: They've got such neat Obama merchandise, me wants too!</span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-55515252036824525562009-01-18T15:20:00.002+05:302009-01-18T15:53:39.812+05:30Don't mess with our national anthem, please!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">For some reason, I've been finding myself visiting many movie theatres the past few weeks...in Mumbai and Pune. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">"What do we do now?... Ok, lets watch a movie!" has been the general idea amongst friends and family. And luckily most theatres have been showing trailers once again...and I so love watching trailers! Better than all those ads and what nots...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">The other thing I like during the movies is standing up and singing the National Anthem as the familiar tune encompasses the entire theatre.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Some time back, I went to watch 'Rab ne bana di jodi' in a Pune theatre. And something I remember best (apart from the not- so- bad movie) was that whilst the National Anthem was being played, each and every person in that hall was singing it out loud! And quite frankly, I've never heard the entire public in a theatre ever sing the National Anthem and that too loud as ever... most people just stand up, or some sing in their minds; many mumble or whisper. This was simply awesome! Go Pune, go!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Of course, I've not heard it again...but people still are heard singing softly... at least in Pune. And surprisingly, in Mumbai, it's not like that at all. And I realised that its not that Mumbaikars are less patriotic in any way... its just that they cannot sing the National Anthem as the tune is so different. And each theatre has a different version.Given the various versions of the country's song, it's no wonder many people choose to just keep mum, and let the music play as is. I mean, if one was to go by the standard tune, one has already finished singing the anthem, while the one going on in the movie theatre is still going 'jaaaaaaaaaayaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa heeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy'. And with so much of 'soul-infused creativity' in that song, one does not feel any patriotism...I just wanted 'that song' to end- the slow motion singers were getting on my nerves!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I'm all for creative freedom, but some things are sacred and should not be tampered with. The National Anthem is one such. Also given the fact that many Indians do not remember the words of 'the Anthem at all, lets not confuse them with a plethora of tunes.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">The tune of the 'Jana Gana Mana' should be standardised so that at any given point, wherever one is, one knows what that tune is and stands for. So please, spare this country its Anthem.</span></div>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-23455759887050838462009-01-05T12:20:00.008+05:302009-03-05T19:17:33.652+05:30R.I.P<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It's funny how a quiet sunday can make you more retro as well as introspective. Looking back is something I often do, it's an incurable habit. I think, dwell upon, think some more, reflect, wonder and try to understand... more often than not, understanding does not come easily...yet, I ponder...</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This last year has been in extremes. Very high points which actually got more than minimalised by the lows. Of the good side, my brother's wedding was the highlight. It felt good having a new member in the family. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The downside though saw too many different dark facets of life. The recession and lack of work to begin with, then the horrifying terror attacks on my city Mumbai were some that affected us all. What touched me more was the passing away of two people I cared for a lot. One a very good friend and classmate through architecture college... a fabulous human being called Zhya Jacobs. Even after seeing him in his coffin, I am unable to believe that he's no more... it's as if any minute now his mail will come in my inbox and he'll tell me that he's coming to India (he was to for Christmas) we should meet as was decided.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The second person who I lost was the dad of my best friend. He was suffering from cancer, and having lost my own dad in the hands of the same disease, I felt as if I was reliving the anguish, pain, hope, wait, guilt and acceptance once more... And because my dad had gone, I used to always look up to uncle as that respected father figure... I doubt I have prayed for someone as much as I did for Uncle (except for dad), and when he passed away, I felt my prayers had fallen short or somewhere I didn't do enough...</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Cancer has become a disease that we all need to watch out for even more. It's strange when I see my closest two friends- both of whom have lost a parent due to cancer, as I have. And there are so many others I have known who have lost their battle against it... I also know of other known friends and people who are also now suffering the same... young and old... and it's not easy for anyone- never has been.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">For</span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> all of us who lost out on people and other things this year, for all of those who suffered, for this year that didn't go well for many, and for those gone forever... Rest In Peace.</span></span><br /></span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-22830268560073735452008-12-11T21:24:00.010+05:302009-01-05T14:02:44.114+05:30A post script to the Mumbai attacks...Much has been talked and written about the terrible attacks on Mumbai just two weeks ago... And the pain that has been felt by us all is actually indescribable, to say the least... However, here's another point of view:<br /><br />My 8 year old nephew has been hearing the word 'terrorists' and 'bomb blasts' for the past some time now. He was asking us about who terrorists were, why were they coming to Mumbai only and was concerned as to what they wanted. In our attempt to placate the young mind, we just said they are 'bad' people who hurt others and destroy... and that they are not just coming to Mumbai, but all over India. Which got him wondering more and asking us, 'but why our country only?'... and in all his innocence he answered his own question, "Of course it is because they don't have a country as beautiful as ours and are also jealous, so they want to take it over and because they can't they are trying to destroy it".<br /><br />We then tried giving him a peek in the future by saying that these bad people who are coming are also making people living here bad...like one rotten apple makes the entire pile rotten adage... To which he confidently replied, "So What? There are so many lakhs of good people in India, that even if some become bad, there are more who are good and will overcome them." His view about his country is so clear- no matter what, his country is the best. It is a view that many of us as adults lack.<br /><br />It's such a beautiful viewpoint- if we see it from the point of the children of this country- who are not totally aware of the acute gravity of what happened, the politics or the aftermath attached with it...but know in their heart that their country is wonderful and good will always prevail.<br /><br />If we see the larger picture truly and have this unequivocal love and pride for India that comes from within, and the positivity that no harm can ever happen as long as we are all there together ... The future of India is definitely secure, no matter what.Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-29231200988588210882008-10-21T15:18:00.005+05:302008-10-21T18:20:23.109+05:30Son(s) of the soil?<span style="font-style: italic;">“If Raj is arrested, entire Maharashtra will be set on fire!” </span><br /><br />The above statement was made by none other than Raj Thackeray, in lieu with his imminent arrest. And I felt real sad on hearing these words... I mean, how can a person who has been born and brought up in this state and calls himself a '<span style="font-style: italic;">Marathi manoos</span>' who is fighting for 'his people', even think of burning down the home that reared him?<br /><br />When buses, vehicles, shops in Maharashtra are burnt, who suffers and pays for them? ... the <span style="font-style: italic;">Marathi manoos</span>.<br />When people are terrorised to stay at home, and all shops and infrastructure shuts down, who suffers?...the <span style="font-style: italic;">Marathi manoos</span>.<br />When an airline is told it won't be allowed to ply in Mumbai city because it has sacked its employees, there are others who suffer along with the already suffering employees... the <span style="font-style: italic;">Marathi manoos</span> also.<br /><br />Don't these guys understand the simple basics? The 'Marathi manoos' they are fighting for is the one who's going to suffer at the end of it all. So what are we fighting for? And who and why are we supporting this?<br /><br />Destroying public life and property is not the answer to anything. Any wrong action in this state will affect its local people first. And this means all who live in Maharashtra- <span style="font-style: italic;">the Maharashtrians</span>. Relegating to violence is only dividing the <span style="font-style: italic;">Marathi manoos</span> against each other, leave aside other communities and languages. It's a shame...<br /><br />Speaking of locals...there is another view to this story. The Railway authorities knew that such a issue of beating up would surely happen if the exams would take place without keeping the LOCALS in mind. The same has happened earlier in the past. Then why was history allowed to repeat???<br /><br />And I also fail to understand the other factor of this entire series of events is that in many states, something similar has happened, wherein non-locals have been discriminated against and also at times been assaulted. Why have there been no actions taken against these politicians? I read a comment on the Indian Express site..." <span style="font-style: italic;">I don't understand why Raj T. is facing all the ire. After all he is doing what all his contemporary politicians were doing. Although he is doing it with a difference. Today Mr. Lalu Yadav is saying Raj is mental case. What was he when Biharis were facing the wrath of people of Jharkhand just because they were Biharis. He was enjoying the fruits of division of Bihar.This is the outcome of caste-based politics. Lets face it</span>." At the end of this all- its only politics. So who suffers really?... We, the people.<br /><br />And finally a question? I'm asking this because I am really unaware of the legalities... Can they really arrest Raj Thackeray because members of his party beat up people? He was not there physically or overseeing it, nor has he given the orders for it. I was just thinking this aloud... if Congress workers act the same at any point, will either Vilasrao Deshmukh, Sharad Pawar or Sonia Gandhi be arrested because they are leading those people?Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-29874941351603918312008-09-15T13:23:00.003+05:302008-09-15T13:35:00.495+05:30<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZnoE_ldb5Cm9yKfdgYlp_ywUIaXFl6TxGXMfFiWqFPGBJS9d3Nw3ncwH_s6-ODBIc0rIqSceGvJmJL05TRlB6masQIyYAMIyBMLgoxfHgxAE0fhaGRn7b1v2NYdAvoqUjWH5/s1600-h/n709355629_1027045_5453.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZnoE_ldb5Cm9yKfdgYlp_ywUIaXFl6TxGXMfFiWqFPGBJS9d3Nw3ncwH_s6-ODBIc0rIqSceGvJmJL05TRlB6masQIyYAMIyBMLgoxfHgxAE0fhaGRn7b1v2NYdAvoqUjWH5/s320/n709355629_1027045_5453.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246153447494958226" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Many layers,</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;">different realms.<br />Through time,<br />and the sublime<br />... I discover.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Text and pic (c) D.Athale, 2008</span><br /></div>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-63326645020032840732008-09-09T14:28:00.002+05:302008-09-09T14:40:39.098+05:30Ganpati Bappa Morya!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUM3YVPASytCWGLNFsah1CbGlyhmkLGVQeb4TeMjmlaAs286-BrRqikXrEG8p_uuuV3pA0FCGsYIr7mahqKDqShiWTKrr2yfNdUrRXx1OJl7XTdV8IV2WNzO6c47tjZ7aV2lK-/s1600-h/Home1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUM3YVPASytCWGLNFsah1CbGlyhmkLGVQeb4TeMjmlaAs286-BrRqikXrEG8p_uuuV3pA0FCGsYIr7mahqKDqShiWTKrr2yfNdUrRXx1OJl7XTdV8IV2WNzO6c47tjZ7aV2lK-/s320/Home1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243944266416712578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzfGsNO8lJxKLqSImhxfI4KBO9kWnjhrb8Ok0kzI5a7-y2XE9BgaS46HdRxJ73tstfMVUekVUsK8jV-26yfLK3WH1buBZeEFKg4rzy9_nMlzqZsLiVs7HQSKGYoSP7hl4nkL3/s1600-h/Home.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzfGsNO8lJxKLqSImhxfI4KBO9kWnjhrb8Ok0kzI5a7-y2XE9BgaS46HdRxJ73tstfMVUekVUsK8jV-26yfLK3WH1buBZeEFKg4rzy9_nMlzqZsLiVs7HQSKGYoSP7hl4nkL3/s320/Home.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243944269652432194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTu6bwvSVrxyWD2YTprrlpAN1bgx_rzGRb9y5UBOz_29vexgT1RfCoGW3jFVyzJ9VzL2VZyrrhO1-W36yz3r14ZvcnpqffHuS0HgclJdj89GbrDkQc9ykWxutggs6hjAaalc_8/s1600-h/To+give1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTu6bwvSVrxyWD2YTprrlpAN1bgx_rzGRb9y5UBOz_29vexgT1RfCoGW3jFVyzJ9VzL2VZyrrhO1-W36yz3r14ZvcnpqffHuS0HgclJdj89GbrDkQc9ykWxutggs6hjAaalc_8/s320/To+give1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243944273089198786" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf_TyKa3QVeCcA5RUoXgYxYs0A6F22YpWwVh42SvH-njrAJwzUkPPFwfJS4t0y28ZGiEM60B_Dq2uR5-StlUe5biH3PkwJyOo_4LQyGjlVTMBbQ_JWsTVoSr8rNJ34CwB1IzOq/s1600-h/To+give2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf_TyKa3QVeCcA5RUoXgYxYs0A6F22YpWwVh42SvH-njrAJwzUkPPFwfJS4t0y28ZGiEM60B_Dq2uR5-StlUe5biH3PkwJyOo_4LQyGjlVTMBbQ_JWsTVoSr8rNJ34CwB1IzOq/s320/To+give2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243944279082519026" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlE5QmPPZ3JrEloCxBF5o2FBwYqmY2RgyFrzoYvr-GiauZ-iXXwcnCjvnS_bAoLcolLo02NHLTE2EcEOlXGFfGz7gmOZZHueU8U1c9m-fPw4e74fqHNtN6V30KCwsAExa5hT7/s1600-h/To+give.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlE5QmPPZ3JrEloCxBF5o2FBwYqmY2RgyFrzoYvr-GiauZ-iXXwcnCjvnS_bAoLcolLo02NHLTE2EcEOlXGFfGz7gmOZZHueU8U1c9m-fPw4e74fqHNtN6V30KCwsAExa5hT7/s320/To+give.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243944280998054258" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUM3YVPASytCWGLNFsah1CbGlyhmkLGVQeb4TeMjmlaAs286-BrRqikXrEG8p_uuuV3pA0FCGsYIr7mahqKDqShiWTKrr2yfNdUrRXx1OJl7XTdV8IV2WNzO6c47tjZ7aV2lK-/s1600-h/Home1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUM3YVPASytCWGLNFsah1CbGlyhmkLGVQeb4TeMjmlaAs286-BrRqikXrEG8p_uuuV3pA0FCGsYIr7mahqKDqShiWTKrr2yfNdUrRXx1OJl7XTdV8IV2WNzO6c47tjZ7aV2lK-/s320/Home1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243944266416712578" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUM3YVPASytCWGLNFsah1CbGlyhmkLGVQeb4TeMjmlaAs286-BrRqikXrEG8p_uuuV3pA0FCGsYIr7mahqKDqShiWTKrr2yfNdUrRXx1OJl7XTdV8IV2WNzO6c47tjZ7aV2lK-/s1600-h/Home1.JPG"><span style="font-size:78%;">All pictures (c)D.Athale, 2008</span></a><br /></div><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Since we moved to Pune, we've installed a permanent Ganpati idol at home, and every year I make a small idol that we pray to and submerge (in a bucket outside the door). Being environment conscious, our Ganpati idols have always been 'green' and made of clay, wheat flour,etc. This year, we have consciously decided to use all the 'raddi' (old newspapers) and make a recyled Ganpati.</span><br /> <br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >The only thing used in this Ganpati, apart from the newspapers and a little bit of water, is glue to stick the various parts. We have made many of these to give out to our guests who come home for the <i>darshan</i>.</span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-1336444703311083322008-08-06T16:51:00.000+05:302008-08-06T16:53:41.623+05:30Nag Panchami- a custom or threat?<div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="note_content clearfix"> <div>Today, there will be many litres of milk thrown away, and many snakes caught, hurt and probably killed too. Because, today is Nag Panchami, a day where people superstitiously believe that snakes must be appeased by making them drink milk. More so, forcing those poor creatures to 'drink' milk.<br /><br />My bai (maid) was proudly telling me how she poured a litre of milk into a snake's hole in the earth and lit up some agarbattis, and how the snake will no longer come near her house, after she has done so.<i>[Obviously not, that poor snake must have drowned in that milk or must have escaped from a milk-curdling experience!]</i><br /><br />I was furious with her and tried explaining that snakes do NOT drink milk, and that most of them are caught, have their mouths stitched up so they cannot retaliate and then are made to 'drink' the milk. And the only way a snake does 'smell' its environment, is through its tongue, which is kept free whilst the rest of its mouth is stitched up. So the act of drinking milk is merely the snake trying to understand its predicament and situation.<br /><br />Unfortunately, even though she did understand, she also thought I was crazy to defend the snakes and laughed at me. Which means, the next year the same story will be repeated.<br /><br />This festival is not just about snakes being harmed, its also about so much of milk going waste! In a country that is facing huge agricultural and resource crisis, what right do we have to waste food like this?<br /><br />And oh yes, the High Court did ask the State Government to intervene as several PILs have been lodged against this practice. But the Government is yet to reply. Bloody shame!<br /><br />And yet, no one is really ashamed. Why?</div></div>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-87277232869636510972008-02-28T20:28:00.006+05:302008-12-12T08:19:00.059+05:30Ruhaniyat<div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Attended the<span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">7th Ruhaniyat festival of Sufi and Mystic Music</span>.</span> It was the finale of the entire series, which ended in Pune. I had been awaiting this event for months, having heard of it from a friend, and once there, I was not disappointed, luckily. I say 'luckily' because I have often eagerly looked forward to some event, and when it does take place eventually, it leaves a taste of tad disappointment.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />Well, anyway, the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ruhaniyat </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">(which means 'soulfulness')</span> is a wonderful example of encouraging and sharing music from all over India, and now, the world too. One is exposed to different kinds of music, musicians, instruments and sounds. And if you close your eyes, like the lady in front of us was doing, or move your body to the beat of the music, like me, you would be taken to another realm far away from here, where your senses no longer differentiate the sex or the caste/religion of the person who's singing or playing, but they (your senses) mingle as if this music is their own, taken from your own soul. Heavenly will be a small word for this feeling.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />Ruhaniyat began with the traditional artisans of Maharashtra, locals for people of Pune. The group of </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">Varkaris</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">* </span><span>led by Chandrakant Udawant from Satara,</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> sang </span><span><span style="font-style: italic;">Abhangs</span> - </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">devotional songs of Lord Vithhal in the traditional language of Marathi.</span><span> He started off with 'Jaya jaya ramkrishna hari', went on to sing 'Roop pahata lochani', a <span style="font-style: italic;">kirtan</span> and concluded with an <span style="font-style: italic;">Abhang</span> of Saint Tukaram.<br /><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >[</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">* Varkaris = The </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Varkari</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> sampraday (religious movement) is so called because the followers travel hundreds of miles to the holy town of Pandharpur </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">on foot, every year on the Ekadashi </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> (11th day by lunar calendar) in the Hindu calendar month of Ashad (sometime in July). A </span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">pilgrimage is also made on Kartik Ekadashi (which falls sometime in November). This pilgrimage is called vari in the Marathi </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> language and thus one who performs it in the 'Bhapath of devotion </span><span style="font-style: italic;"> is a varkari.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">The Varkari tradition has made all-pervading impact on the life of the common people of Maharashtra for six hundred years (from 13th century to 18th century). The Varkari has looked upon God as the Ultimate Truth and has ascertained grades of values in social life The sect has accepted ultimate equality among men. It lays stress on values such as individual sacrifice, forgiveness, simplicity, overcoming passions, peaceful co-existence, compassion, non-violence, love, humility in social life. The last point is illustrated by Varkaris prostrating in front of each other because everybody is "Brahma"</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >. ]</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT558Ap5E7nStKN8B4kav9mZb9GhWCgxDeUF9-ub8I4yadHNhmNHgEqOsw6Q_blgXLTd2OcLK4kC6tNpUlOvgzqsoQQU1z-UmAZHLyRqvw5I-cdtUvqQ4ijZ649rXyKNRJiLLb/s1600-h/Varkaris.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT558Ap5E7nStKN8B4kav9mZb9GhWCgxDeUF9-ub8I4yadHNhmNHgEqOsw6Q_blgXLTd2OcLK4kC6tNpUlOvgzqsoQQU1z-UmAZHLyRqvw5I-cdtUvqQ4ijZ649rXyKNRJiLLb/s400/Varkaris.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172099249509108194" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The Varkaris were followed a troupe led by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Hafeeza Begum</span> from Assam. And they sang Sufi songs, which sounded real sweet after the initial 'harshness' of songs of the Marathis. And what was extremely beautiful was the sound of the flute, lilting up amidst the silence. And accompanying the songs at times, was just the sound of fingers clicking and hands clapping. This performance was in some way poetic because of its simplicity and lovely melody.<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKpLTyqUaQ1nfPVZz6MmsM-k4LgvTgzSV2VhCmwZ958Qi_wYMxked2Q5gF_sR8OKyL9TJU8ypgO_vhQOlCsg5vgD3aUaeQSuVC_S2tcYYDe1EUihMNmodJf7wH1sysvkPXdSK/s1600-h/Hafeeza+Begum+and+Latif+Bolat,Turkey.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKpLTyqUaQ1nfPVZz6MmsM-k4LgvTgzSV2VhCmwZ958Qi_wYMxked2Q5gF_sR8OKyL9TJU8ypgO_vhQOlCsg5vgD3aUaeQSuVC_S2tcYYDe1EUihMNmodJf7wH1sysvkPXdSK/s400/Hafeeza+Begum+and+Latif+Bolat,Turkey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172099262394010098" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;">Latif Bolat</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;"> (the above two snaps) from Turkey played the traditional Turkish stringed instrument "baglama." He sang some traditional Turkish compositions and recited poems too. I must admit I did not understand a word, nor realised when one composition began or ended as he was playing continuosly. But for the compere, Nandini Mahesh's wonderful translations and talks in between, I would've been lost.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I must talk of the compere here too. She introduced the musicians with some wonderful poetic lines of her own, while translating their works. For example, " A life is like a house... it grows, withers and collapses, with time." She also gave a brief introduction to each of the musicians. When it was time of the <span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Manganiyars</span>*</span> from Rajasthan to play, Nandini also talked a<span style="font-size:100%;">bout their instruments to a small story of Rani Bhatiyani, who has blessed this community to always be the best musicians as long as their community survives.</span></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >The music of the Manganiyars borders on the classical with a touch of Sufism. The singers have mastery in playing various instruments like <i>Khamaycha </i>(</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >the bowl-shaped, short-necked bowed lute</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >), <i>M</i><i>urli </i>(a big flute), <i>Surnai </i>(big bass flute), the <i>Afgoza </i>(double flute), the <i>Morchhang </i>(Jewish harp) and the <i>Kartaal </i>(The kartaal comprises two pairs of concussion plaques, one pair held in each hand. The playing technique is extremely virtuosic and involves very rapid, castanet-like rhythms.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >)<br />The <i>Khamaycha </i>can be played only by the Manganiyars, and we were lucky to have with us on stage, one of the most respected and senior members of the Manganiyars - Chanan Khan- who was playing the Khamaycha (the man on the left of the singer). </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >He was also requested to sing part of the Rani Bhatiyani story, who committed Sati for her true love, the brother of her husband.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">*</span></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >A small community in neighbouring Rajasthan presents an example of communal bonhomie. The Manganiyars, a singers community from western Rajasthan, are Muslims by birth but are closely linked for generations to both Muslims and Hindu families for their livelihood. </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >Whatever be the occasion at their jajmaan's house, the Manganiyars are there with appropriate song and music, greatly influenced by Sindhi sufi pirs, singing mystical verses and invoking the Hindu gods. </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" > Be it a wedding, a birth in the family, a change of season, a festival or even celebrating the valour of the warriors, the Manganiyars are called to compose and sing for which they are paid handsomely though in different ways. Their songs describe the life of the people of the land.</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkbpxLbEKpykUp47IjhhBbLFx39mbqusgA8sDM1q4ExXIX5t65sx1OUirn3MWPFlrXX8AVEQzqhVXmuLMMEcF5Bpt1FU1TOP8f-d0-h1ZPy67oMg1wi4eCEAMDbUK3OhapG6cV/s1600-h/Rajasthanis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkbpxLbEKpykUp47IjhhBbLFx39mbqusgA8sDM1q4ExXIX5t65sx1OUirn3MWPFlrXX8AVEQzqhVXmuLMMEcF5Bpt1FU1TOP8f-d0-h1ZPy67oMg1wi4eCEAMDbUK3OhapG6cV/s400/Rajasthanis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172099266688977410" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >The Rajasthanis played in two parts. The first was a Hindu type of music, with Mahesaram as the main singer. Then after the break, they came back with Sawan Khan as the main singer. If you notice the man on the extreme left, in the second part he plays the Kartaal and look at him move!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">But the person who I was totally mesmerised by was </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;">Parvathy Baul</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">. She hails from West Bengal and is an 'initiated' Baul and one of the very few women Bauls*, as was disclosed by Nandini. Parvathy seemed this relatively young and a petite, energetic woman who I felt was completely unfettered in her singing. It was as if she and the music were really one, and the melody sprang from her soul. All the previous musicians and singers, to me, seemed formal by way of their 'education in music'. But Parvathy seemed like a natural. It was as if she was born to sing and didn't know what else to do. She played the </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;"><i>ektara</i> (one-stringed Baul instrument), <i>duggi</i> (clay drum) and wore the <i>nupur</i> (anklet) that sounded like bells. And with her high voice that never needed a mike, saffron robes and singing and dancing, she seemed like </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">Meera conversing with the Lord Krishna, so into her music she was.</span><br /><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><b>*Bauls</b> (Bengali: বাউল) <span style="font-weight: bold;">are a group of mystic minstrels from Bengal, which comprises Bangladesh and the Indian state of West Bengal. Bauls constitute both a </span><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mw-redirect">syncretic</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> religious sect and a musical tradition used as a vehicle to express Baul thought. Bauls are a very heterogeneous group, with many different streams to the sect, but their membership mainly consists of </span><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="new">Vaisnavite</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Hindus and </span><span style="font-weight: bold;" class="mw-redirect">Sufi</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Muslims.They can be often identified by their distinctive clothes and musical instruments, like the ektara. Though Bauls comprise only a small fraction of the Bengali population, their influence on the culture of Bengal is considerable. In 2005, the Baul tradition was included in the list of "Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity" by UNESCO. </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The origin of the word is </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Baul</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> is debated. It has been suggested that it comes either from </span><span class="mw-redirect" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Sanskrit</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">batul</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">, meaning </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">divinely inspired insanity</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> or </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">byakul</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">, meaning </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">fervently eager.</span></span><br /></p><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">Parvathy sang three songs. All wonderful. The first song was on the bird </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">Chatak</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">*, which is </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">Lalan Fakir's song <span style="font-style: italic;">Chatak swabhav ni hole</span>- the Chatak never changes, followed by <span style="font-style: italic;">Apon mukher phook- </span>a lovely song, and <span style="font-style: italic;">Kaala</span> - a description of Radha's last thought as she walks towards Yamuna.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >* Chatak- A bird that drinks only raindrops, and even though there is water nearby, it will not drink anything else. Sometimes the clouds play truant with it, and it thinks its going to rain and is ecstatic. Then even upon realising there is no rain, it won't drink</span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" ><a name="26">anything but rain-water, even though its throat is burning with thirst.</a></span><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8LOW5oXL9CjTl4ksEsN7l-T5Udx5J3DLjtA3TiwWNaxpx2LVpmCtkQzyR6O9IZmjJxc4F_6nzOm6RGBhXwhDkFqNWVDo7po-S0ky55xXCSXCjlqBMk5IlJGOz0SEAqKU6Qkm-/s1600-h/Parvati+Baul.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8LOW5oXL9CjTl4ksEsN7l-T5Udx5J3DLjtA3TiwWNaxpx2LVpmCtkQzyR6O9IZmjJxc4F_6nzOm6RGBhXwhDkFqNWVDo7po-S0ky55xXCSXCjlqBMk5IlJGOz0SEAqKU6Qkm-/s400/Parvati+Baul.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172099270983944722" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">A Sufiana <span style="font-style: italic;">Kalam</span>- '<span style="font-style: italic;">Maine teri aaakhon mein pada </span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Allah hi Allah</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-style: italic;">, Sab bhool gaya bas yaad raha sirf Allah hi Allah'</span> by renowned singer, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Vitthal Rao</span> from Hyderabad was a sheer delight to hear, especially given the fact that this man is all of seventy-nine years of age. And had a powerful voice as compared to his disciple. </span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwaRpJnVDTicXhFy4z5D2a69kiZiE4WziJtqjAdekapRF_7KSceJSm7cUTOIzP8edWX3HGsgdToa2UlTFlmdW0t-ceRKU2nj9fWBTxcYFIFmxjJvrghBabdwb1LaKRNQme-hq/s1600-h/Vithal+Rao+and+Sabri+Bros.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwaRpJnVDTicXhFy4z5D2a69kiZiE4WziJtqjAdekapRF_7KSceJSm7cUTOIzP8edWX3HGsgdToa2UlTFlmdW0t-ceRKU2nj9fWBTxcYFIFmxjJvrghBabdwb1LaKRNQme-hq/s400/Vithal+Rao+and+Sabri+Bros.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172099275278912034" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">The finale came from the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sabri Brothers</span> of Jaipur, one of the topmost </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">Qawwals</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;"> in India. They sang a Sufi </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">qawwali, 'Tu malik hai' and </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;">Amir Khusrau's </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;"> 'Aaj rang ma'. Some of the words of the first composition were, "Prabhu nahi mujhe koi gyan tumhara; Mujhe to ek hi dhyaan hai...voh hai tumhara"... Simply delightful!<br /><br />Looking forward to the next Ruhaniyat!<br /></span><br /><br /></div>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-79362038060831457182008-01-23T22:40:00.000+05:302008-12-12T08:19:00.896+05:30Everyday stories.<div style="text-align: center;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Don't have a great camera, but do have a passion for photography... and over the years have great pics taken...most people say I have the 'eye'... :) ... either ways, I love to shoot and off late have gotten pretty fascinated by people. A picture can tell a thousand words indeed. As I have been moving around the city for documenting the architecture and heritage buildings (part of the heritage walks that I conduct), I have been stunned by the emotions that fill me when I shoot a person or living thing...have still been unable to fathom it...</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. 'Lord of the small things'</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXMVg7Vi1FbuJgjm2FkNALqk3x4jz_tPsAtM44VfS6YtWE4t-tooqESzJQHshwVSB3WeYZozayOBwwR5fyFQLMlVytGfbZoqsKN5eveh9pEtE3eIqq6WRFXRQkdQtMoFruPx0/s1600-h/P1220634.JPG"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">(c) D.Athale, 2007</span></span><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXMVg7Vi1FbuJgjm2FkNALqk3x4jz_tPsAtM44VfS6YtWE4t-tooqESzJQHshwVSB3WeYZozayOBwwR5fyFQLMlVytGfbZoqsKN5eveh9pEtE3eIqq6WRFXRQkdQtMoFruPx0/s320/P1220634.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158724802369831682" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />He waits,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">he watches.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">One day, some day...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">these small dreams</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">will be real size too.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">2.Light and it's shadow.</span><br /><span><span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXMVg7Vi1FbuJgjm2FkNALqk3x4jz_tPsAtM44VfS6YtWE4t-tooqESzJQHshwVSB3WeYZozayOBwwR5fyFQLMlVytGfbZoqsKN5eveh9pEtE3eIqq6WRFXRQkdQtMoFruPx0/s1600-h/P1220634.JPG"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">(c) D.Athale, 2007</span></span></a></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKTrJBPovDetqnI43Jozh0wlII3qsPJYZ8_otQ06NwINQ68_w7R_rrDBizQW8-C-_1uSv1N8eNfD1DtDXMLM3_JX8jbXOCZ7O6TF3zsRSLcQFtJZtbIz-r-U_Dj3wJM2iMFcE/s1600-h/P1220645.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKTrJBPovDetqnI43Jozh0wlII3qsPJYZ8_otQ06NwINQ68_w7R_rrDBizQW8-C-_1uSv1N8eNfD1DtDXMLM3_JX8jbXOCZ7O6TF3zsRSLcQFtJZtbIz-r-U_Dj3wJM2iMFcE/s320/P1220645.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158724883974210322" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">If everything lit always threw a shadow, wonder where does light hide it's shadow?</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Time-bound<br /></span><span><span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXMVg7Vi1FbuJgjm2FkNALqk3x4jz_tPsAtM44VfS6YtWE4t-tooqESzJQHshwVSB3WeYZozayOBwwR5fyFQLMlVytGfbZoqsKN5eveh9pEtE3eIqq6WRFXRQkdQtMoFruPx0/s1600-h/P1220634.JPG"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">(c) D.Athale, 2007</span></span></a></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZMLe2d5d8ckeXqzuBSCQbk7TrJCB4x-CZ36pYtvwo0d5xP_GNrwfn55U0S2ZX82aA6usKJOGQWLXwAEv-9GTYtqGv9vxphYE0vDtOfFsHVIc_jdzd0CMelQlKT21j6ofl9R7/s1600-h/P1040073.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZMLe2d5d8ckeXqzuBSCQbk7TrJCB4x-CZ36pYtvwo0d5xP_GNrwfn55U0S2ZX82aA6usKJOGQWLXwAEv-9GTYtqGv9vxphYE0vDtOfFsHVIc_jdzd0CMelQlKT21j6ofl9R7/s320/P1040073.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158724896859112226" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Time stood mute testimony</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">As he scrubbed and laboured</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And not a word was spoken,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">when the sparkle was delivered.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. Weather- beaten.<br /></span><span><span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXMVg7Vi1FbuJgjm2FkNALqk3x4jz_tPsAtM44VfS6YtWE4t-tooqESzJQHshwVSB3WeYZozayOBwwR5fyFQLMlVytGfbZoqsKN5eveh9pEtE3eIqq6WRFXRQkdQtMoFruPx0/s1600-h/P1220634.JPG"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">(c) D.Athale, 2007</span></span></a></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_wVCB5wtewIETgyeKBmEbUm6un8kiOG4CWzVnWPKM8pduydNQnihIKZGXgHqSOtQoyOIt15hCPd_f6DopsIbwIe3dLUY5Guz7NKlME40vfBryjbvFOwpDTEzL2rYlKMKFwhV/s1600-h/P1040283.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_wVCB5wtewIETgyeKBmEbUm6un8kiOG4CWzVnWPKM8pduydNQnihIKZGXgHqSOtQoyOIt15hCPd_f6DopsIbwIe3dLUY5Guz7NKlME40vfBryjbvFOwpDTEzL2rYlKMKFwhV/s320/P1040283.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158724931218850610" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Old arms, tired of supporting</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Old joints, tired of holding</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The weathered facade of mine</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">rests, along with those,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">who pray ... in me.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5.Smoky Dreams<br /></span><span><span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXMVg7Vi1FbuJgjm2FkNALqk3x4jz_tPsAtM44VfS6YtWE4t-tooqESzJQHshwVSB3WeYZozayOBwwR5fyFQLMlVytGfbZoqsKN5eveh9pEtE3eIqq6WRFXRQkdQtMoFruPx0/s1600-h/P1220634.JPG"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">(c) D.Athale, 2007</span></span></a></span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSE0gzUioqPTSUlLzMPHXbd231mpFYV-DaOpv7To4Vyo5T2jT0Zf2bi4wV7rr609gL_6lOcXTHbWWUje8z7dLkQackQVbROT51SOPNtR_WOzzYid0b0kxs0r-7fWBMCIiFZQlO/s1600-h/P1040196.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSE0gzUioqPTSUlLzMPHXbd231mpFYV-DaOpv7To4Vyo5T2jT0Zf2bi4wV7rr609gL_6lOcXTHbWWUje8z7dLkQackQVbROT51SOPNtR_WOzzYid0b0kxs0r-7fWBMCIiFZQlO/s320/P1040196.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158724956988654402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">One last puff </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">before I say 'done',</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My eyes closed, </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I sleep.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My hands and lips continue...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Allowing me to have smoky dreams.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">All photographs and text are copyright of D.Athale. 2007.</span><br /></span></span><br /></div>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-2825954376991149732008-01-14T20:43:00.000+05:302008-01-14T21:08:44.378+05:30Jab We Met...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As my new year resolution of staying fit, I have joined a class that teaches Power Aerobics (whatever that means) and Bollywood Dancing (I so wanted to learn this!). And one of the first songs we are dancing on is 'Mauja hi Mauja' from the movie 'Jab We Met'.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I had happened to see the movie few months ago. And was totally unprepared to the fact that not only would I like it a lot, but find it any day better than other movies like 'Om Shanti Om', etc. A very feel good, light-hearted, romantic and yet not too emotional a movie. It had a good mix of script, direction, acting and music. Shaheed was exceptionally good! And I really felt sad for him, when I heard about his split with Kareena, because one could see the love and passion he had for her during this movie.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And the songs really are fun to hear. A different approach to music. Some good lyrics too. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One of the songs I really liked was '</span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.mp3yug.com/Music/JabWeMet/02.%20Tum%20Se%20Hi_files/02.%20Tum%20Se%20Hi.mp3">Tumse hi</a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">'... enjoy!</span><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Na hai yeh pana</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Na Khona hi hai<br />Tera Na hona jane</span><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Kyun hona hi hai</span> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Tum se hi din hota hai<br />Surmaiye shaam aati<br />Tumse hi tumse hi</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Har ghadi saans aati hai<br />Zindagi kehlati hai<br />Tumse hi tumse hi</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Na hai yeh pana<br />Na Khona hi hai<br />Tera Na hona jane<br />Kyun hona hi hai</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Aankhon mein ankhne teri<br />Bahoon mein baahein teri<br />Mera na mujhe mein kuch raha hua kya<br />Baaton mein baatein teri<br />Raatein saugatein teri<br />Kyun tera sab yeh ho gaya<br />hua kya<br />Mein kahin bhi jata hoon<br />Tumse hi mil jata hoon<br />Tumse hi tumse hi</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Shoor mein khamoshi hai<br />Thodi se Behoshi hai<br />Tum se hi tum se hi</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Aadha sa wada kabhi<br />Aadhe se jayada kabhi<br />Jee chahe karlu is trah wafa ka<br />Chode na chote kabhi<br />Tode na tute kabhi<br />Jo dhaga tumse jud gaya wafa ka</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Mein Tera sharmaya hoon<br />Jo mein ban paya hoon<br />Tumse hi tumse hi<br />Raste miljate hai<br />Manzile miljati hai<br />Tumse hi tumse hi</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Na hai yeh pana<br />Na Khona hi hai<br />Tera Na hona jane<br />Kyun hona hi hai</span></p>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-42912009463217782402008-01-08T17:55:00.000+05:302008-01-08T18:05:46.321+05:30Quit 'monkey'ing around!<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">My two-bits on the India-Australia Cricket chaos...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">- For one, I don't understand why there was no uproar when the umpires were obviously being biased.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">- I don't know why the Indian team is still around in Australia, and hoping to still play after all that happened. Do they have no self-pride left? Is the money more important than the prestige?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">- Why did the Indians not put a case when one of the players was called a 'bastard'?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">- Considering that the word 'monkey' was taken as a racist term, because it supposedly raised questions on the person's parentage... Come again, what was that?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">- If the term monkey is a racist term...then god help the theory of evolution, and us all. Because then the question does become of the parentage of humans.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">- And then again, if the term 'monkey' is a racist term and we all humans are supposedly evolved from monkeys, then what does that make the Australians? Non-humans, for one. Other options... keep guessing.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">And finally, what did the poor monkeys do to make their entire breed an example of racism? </span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-77758985415673597252007-12-27T21:00:00.000+05:302007-12-27T21:33:08.054+05:30Benazir Bhutto- RIP.<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Just heard that Benazir Bhutto was shot dead this evening. Sad. </span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">More sad is the thought that now Pakistan does not seem to have hope left at all. And sadder the fact that in Pakistan democracy will now be just a remote thought...</span><br /><br />******************<br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Charismatic, attractive, dignified and extremely strong- especially in a country dominated by men, Benazir </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">was a ray of hope that could have changed the history of Pakistan. And also possibly it's attitude, poverty, progress, development and much more.<br />I guess I have grown up on the politics of the Bhutto family, especially that of Benazir's... much like our own political first family, the Gandhis. I quite liked to hear her speak, she had a way of reaching out and communicating well. Truly an icon. And it was more of an interest to me because she was a woman, and I have often wondered what kind of sheer guts or absolute foolishness would make her want to leave the comfort of security, to come back to Pakistan and embrace the threats, uncertainty and danger. Especially being a wife and mother. Then again, I think it was the role of the daughter that was always dominant in her. And one she played with all conviction.<br />It is sad that she never got that chance to prove she was the perfect daughter of Pakistan.<br />Benazir Bhutto- may your soul rest in peace.</span><span style="font-size: 12px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: arial;"></span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-61082476259809114102007-08-19T00:30:00.000+05:302007-08-19T00:45:15.635+05:30Chak De India!<p style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">J<span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">ust got back from seeing Chak De India. And came back with many memories…</span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">My family has always been into sports. I've grown up seeing four of my <i>mamas</i> (mother's brothers) play Table Tennis, of which two played for India. I remember going to the Gymkhana just to see my fave 'mama' in action. He was the youngest Junior National Champion during his time…only 13-14 then. And went on to be the National Champion in the Men's league many years later. He then represented the country in at least 5 World Championships and other international events. He used to play in a very particular style…he would lose the first round and then aggressively zoom and clinch the next two rounds so easily that the opponent never had time to realize what came into this cool, calm player. I used to watch him observe his opponent's every move with total concentration in that first round. Absolutely cool, nothing would faze him; nothing would break his concentration from his opponent.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It was then that I had decided I would be a Table Tennis Player. Never mind a lot of other people laughed saying Ping Pong was a kiddie's game, for me it was more than that. Only that, the day I was going to the YWCA to register for TT, I got put into the volleyball team and my life changed after that. My sister and I joined Volleyball for a summer camp, turned out to be good in the game and played on after that for a long time. My father being a wonderful sportsman himself, encouraged my sister, my brother and also me completely. Between us three, we have played volleyball, chess, football, cricket, tae-kwon-do and karate at school, district, inter-zonals, inter-districts and state levels. And most importantly, won. </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">This movie, especially Shah Rukh, reminded me of my mama. Especially of the time, when despite him being seeded 4<sup>th</sup> (despite being in his 30s which is considered an old age in TT), he was not taken for one of the World Championships. There was uproar in the TT Federation camp but none could withstand the might of politics that reached the Sports Ministry. Also of the times when the Federation had recommended only his name more than once for the Arjuna Award, but it was declined because of politics. Which acts in a funny way at times, because my other mama luckily was not as talented and was untouched by the politics that most Indian ministers play with our Sports. So he not only got the Arjuna Award, he was also the manager of the National TT Team till last year.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I used to hear a lot of stories of how players were treated. National level players that too. They would go to play for their country, but the new sports kits would never reach them. Instead the middlemen like the selection committee and also the ministers would embezzle that money or sell the kits. The staying conditions used to be deplorable. (They still are…look what the National Hockey Team had to go thru recently!). And bribery was the way to get into the game. The players who would not get 'gifts' like music players, expensive gadgets, perfumes, etc for these middlemen would be harassed or not taken for the next few games. The Sports Ministry was in cahoots with them. And didn't care a damn about the players or the country. Which is what happened to my uncle too. And I saw India losing one of the finest TT players of his time. I knew he had the capacity to win like no one else could and I'm not saying this because he's my uncle, but as a fellow sports person. And I saw that spirit being killed like slow poison. And I felt ashamed then of being part of this country.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > I remember my Volleyball coach, who made us run the four floors of our school as exercise, apart from the ground. And who fought for every girl in his team more than a father could. He would personally go and visit every girl's house and talk to the parents, especially those who wanted their girls to concentrate more on their studies than sports. "One can not make a career out of sports, especially those that are not popular!" And he would say, "Let your daughter play and win, and it will be popular!"<span> </span>This movie reminded me of my sir too. And I felt pride like never before. Because with every smash of the ball, and hurt of your body as you fell or got hit and bled, the win became that much more sweeter! And this is something that no corporate boardroom game can match…or even understand!</span><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">This movie, not only made me relive my past, but it gave me a new life too. It made worthwhile every drop of sweat; blood and tears of all those sports persons who played for their country (in sports apart from the so coveted cricket that Indians are obsessed with). It gave the dignity to those whose lives have been ruined because of 'one mistake'. It showed what team spirit and force can be. And it gave a renewed hope…to the future of sports in this country. And I truly hope that more parents encourage their kids to play for India.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">So, Chak De India! (and thank you too.)</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">******************************<wbr>*****</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:11;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(ps: If we are talking of the movie- I think it was one of the best roles Shah Rukh has ever played and each of the girls were absolutely wonderful! A salut to them all!)</span></span></p>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-48061526067015839512007-08-17T15:19:00.000+05:302007-08-17T16:46:10.320+05:30Mahatma Gandhi's quote.<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-size:85%;" >August 15, 2007</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">"I believe in equality for everyone, except reporters and photographers."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Gandhi's this particular comment got me thinking....why would someone say that, especially at a time when democracy was being sought after and papers/press/media most wanted?! Then again, maybe it was because a lot of his life and of those he knew, was misconstrued by the press! A lot of those speculations are apparantly being said as the truth, but let that be...</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">It could also be that Gandhi believed in the total freedom of reporters and photographers. And wanted them above the law. We'll never know what he really meant, and can only guess.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Coming back to the Media and Press of the present. Today most media reporters, be it journalists or TV reporters, are insensitive to what they really do. Which does not make them disbelieve in their cause. Only that the cause has changed now, and differs from paper to paper. Ditto for the channels. Right now, I feel, with media houses, the only cause they have is to show themselves as better than the others. So a lil sensationalism does not matter much. The 'truth' be given to the world has its own version here. Three versions or sides, to quote something I had read sometime ago. The first side is that of the reporter. The second of the channel/paper he/she represents and third of what really happened. The witnesses or victims notwithstanding.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">For example, the recent train blasts in Mumbai. People had died, were injured, needed attention and help, others were searching for their loved ones. Bodies were scattered, blood everywhere. And during that too, one saw mikes being thrust in front of relatives sobbing, cameras plundering their helplessness and people just talking incessantly of the ghastly way people died...the truth had to be told in all its glory,right? Maybe the country does really want to know, I wanted to know what happened too...because Mumbai is my city too, my family and friends still live there and also travel that way....but at what cost the truth be told? At the cost of a acidic break thru a numbness of grief and confusion? And more than being informative, we could only see the one oneupmanship between the tv channels who dug deeper in the melee of raw emotions as they sought to find out who really died and how. </span><script><!-- D(["mb","\u003cbr\>\u003cbr\>I'm not saying all reporters are the same. I have friends who write, but like it or not, a job is a jon is a job. And this when backed by the belief that the channel or paper should get the 'best news', often drives a person to do what he/she would not otherwise want to do. I'm hoping I'm right here. Then again, I often wonder, do they not have a choice? Or at least the decency to know when and what to ask.\n\u003cbr\>\u003cbr\>In 1993, a series of bomb blasts rocked Mumbai. I remember being stuck between three of them, the one in Plaza, other in Shivaji Park and the one in Worli; and distinctly hearing all three. Passed damaged buildings, speeding ambulances and mayhem. Gaping holes were where people used to be. These bomb blasts had been preceded by the Hindu-Muslim riots that took place just few months earlier. Again, times when one was left wondering if we'd see any of our Muslim friends again. Families were displaced, people we knew disappeared. Yes, it was personal. For all of us. \n\u003cbr\>\u003cbr\>Today, when after 14 years, 'justice' is supposedly being meted out to those involved in the bomb blasts, the media again has made a mockery of all the people who died then. Did any of us actually look back and see those families? No. All we saw was a certain Hollywood actor's sob story, his act then and punishment now. This became the 'real news'...taking precedence over the actual matter. All newspapers, journals, tv channels, websites and more only talked about him. Even now, on the 60th anniversary of this nation's Independence, papers are wondering how 'Baba' will celebrate the day at the Yerawada Jail !\n\u003cbr\>\u003cbr\>I personally like the colour yellow. To me it represents light, happiness, warmth, goodness...seen in turmeric we use, the rays of the sun, the sweetness of flowers, the fondness of yellowed pages of a book and more... But unfortunately, this colour is more synonymous with a shade that rules our country the most- cowardice. And sadly no one seems to want to report it.\n",1] ); //--></script><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">I'm not saying all reporters are the same. I have friends who write, but like it or not, a job is a job is a job. And this when backed by the belief that the channel or paper should get the 'best news', often drives a person to do what he/she would not otherwise want to do. I'm hoping I'm right here. Then again, I often wonder, do they not have a choice? Or at least the decency to know when and what to ask.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">In 1993, a series of bomb blasts rocked Mumbai. I remember being stuck between three of them, the one in Plaza, other in Shivaji Park and the one in Worli; and distinctly hearing all three. Passed damaged buildings, speeding ambulances and mayhem. Gaping holes were where people used to be. These bomb blasts had been preceded by the Hindu-Muslim riots that took place just few months earlier. Again, times when one was left wondering if we'd see any of our Muslim friends again. Families were displaced, people we knew disappeared. Yes, it was personal. For all of us.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Today, when after 14 years, 'justice' is supposedly being meted out to those involved in the bomb blasts, the media again has made a mockery of all the people who died then. Did any of us actually look back and see those families? No. All we saw was a certain Bollywood actor's sob story, his act then and punishment now. This became the 'real news'...taking precedence over the actual matter. All newspapers, journals, tv channels, websites and more only talked about him. Even now, on the 60th anniversary of this nation's Independence, papers are wondering how 'Baba' will celebrate the day at the Yerawada Jail !</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">I personally like the colour yellow. To me it represents light, happiness, warmth, goodness...seen in turmeric we use, the rays of the sun, the sweetness of flowers, the fondness of yellowed pages of a book and more... But unfortunately, this colour is more synonymous with a shade that rules our country the most- cowardice. And sadly no one seems to want to report it. </span></div>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-63623591094378477402007-08-09T11:06:00.000+05:302007-08-09T11:25:16.774+05:30Rediscovering me.<span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">One should never sort out or clean the cupboard that one has not touched for some time now- especially if one's not prepared for what lies ahead... A busy day saw me clearing my old study table, since was transferring stuff from the old house to the new. And of course, since it was to be done asap, and I had no time really, I was thinking of just dumping the stuff in my bag.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Just then I chanced by old photographs. And couldn't help myself after that.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Thoughts tumbled out, memories peeked and laughed, faces smiled at me, time just stood still. Sat and smiled through some, felt saddened by others and many brought a misty look and few a wistful moment. Realised how many people have come in and walked out of my present life. And with 'present life' I mean the moment I am in. Old schools friends...I wonder where they are...junior college groups...why did the madness disappear? Architecture college group- boy, am I glad I still have them and their mad, sweet selves still as much a part of my present as my past. Work place colleagues... crazy times with crazier people those! Was seeing myself with my family...gosh how I've changed from that bubbly, carefree child to being a responsible, more 'wiser' person that I've become... all those birthday parties and cakes and fun times... some of the best parts of my life.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">What was to be a ten minute activity, took an hour to say the least. With the photos came out old letters and cards, some notes, few postcards...things that I had collected and other stuff that I had been given and cherished... so much love and warmth! I rediscovered myself. And quite liked who I am. :)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">We don't realise how lucky we are or have been unless we take a step backwards and really look at what we had and have. I am thankful for all those moments and the people who made those times special! And to you too, who've been on my journey of blogging and sharing my nonsense and some more.</span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-43649685955176614752007-04-09T22:38:00.000+05:302007-04-09T22:38:10.156+05:30Define Love...?<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >With a blog called Lovemarks, very often people think that it is easy for me to always talk of love or have a 'loving disposition' or am always this lovey-dovey creature... and one question I really cannot relate to is that of defining love. What kind of question is that anyway?!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I don't think love can be explained in a line or few words strung together...I cannot define or quantify love. Just cannot!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >For how can I explain that feeling that makes me go beyond barriers, boundaries and beyond myself for someone else?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > How does one explain what is that 'thing' that rises from within, consumes and then envelops you, before going beyond yourself for someone else?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > What can one say of that feeling where one just wants to give everything of one's self whenever possible?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >How does one express the confusion, ecstasy, madness, happiness, sadness, anger, frustration and so much more- all felt at one moment- one look- one touch- one harsh word- one betrayal?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Is it possible to explain why one so easily believes in fate and destiny, universal law and soul mates, the sun and moon, stars and planets- sometimes hopelessly praying or even begging them to consider your request?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >What would one call that feeling that colours every thing around in one glowy warmth and transcends from yourself onto everything or everyone that passes by?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >How does one describe the feeling that makes me believe in magic? And in fairies, moon dust, falling stars, walks in the rain, sitting by the beach and watching the sun go down, sharing a movie and popcorn, a long drive anywhere, a hug, a smile, a whisper, a wink, a look and thousand secrets shared then....</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Can one define the feeling for anyone who's in your mind the moment that begins with your waking and resting and all the time in between, in your every breath, thought and sometimes word?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >And can anyone ever describe that deep plunge the heart takes wherein you can feel the ground beneath, and then suddenly surges high to take you amongst the clouds...all by one special look by a special person?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >There's more... but then again, how does one express all that is within when all you do is be silent and hold it within?</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >............. nah! This is not some delayed post-Valentine post, but something that is always current...Was reading the quote for the day on my blog... kind of interesting and goes with the topic too...just in case you still want me to define love, here goes one definition:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >"</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="huge" >Love is life. And if you miss love, you miss life".</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="bodybold" >Leo Buscaglia</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />*************************************************************************************************<br />ps: Had disappeared into my own La la land (which is not my blog always) for a while... but am back, for good! ;)<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ></span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-92164779175707340462007-02-01T00:12:00.001+05:302008-12-12T08:19:01.144+05:30aaaaaah Rajasthan.... a tourist's paradise!<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Had an amazing experience as I travelled from Jaipur to Ajmer-Pushkar-Jodhpur-Bishnoi,Goda - Sardar Samand- Ranakpur- Nathdwara- Eklingji- Nagda-Udaipur and back to Jaipur. All in a week.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Am attaching some pics here. The rest can be seen, in better resolution, on: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/gp/75284714@N00/858UY3">http://www.flickr.com/gp/75284714@N00/858UY3<br /></a><br />Enjoy the experience and let it blow your mind! :)<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gyW6Fr67hjl14J4eRDj0PT5azeksPY3P8phad_RNgnUmiduVcA60jOXoT-DoKWkiNUOFyZxOvaSitYdyhdv-WO55h73A4kkTI_vVYT0GSD0C4dyApWslp45OQbEa4o_jAhhD/s1600-h/Composite+pic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 444px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gyW6Fr67hjl14J4eRDj0PT5azeksPY3P8phad_RNgnUmiduVcA60jOXoT-DoKWkiNUOFyZxOvaSitYdyhdv-WO55h73A4kkTI_vVYT0GSD0C4dyApWslp45OQbEa4o_jAhhD/s400/Composite+pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026272921011262194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /></span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-18032851418895153532007-01-14T21:45:00.000+05:302007-01-14T22:05:37.460+05:30Dad...<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span class="gmail_quote" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Since you've gone…</span></span> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">All I have are memories </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">That I can call mine.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Since you've gone,</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span> </span>I've missed the comfort… </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">and the strength,</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">But I've managed fine.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Since you've gone…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Days have passed by</span></p><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And this fledgling<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">alone,<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">has learnt to fly.<br /><br /></span></span> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Since you've gone,</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">You no longer remained you…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Now you exist in me</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And I, as you.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:78%;"> ©Lovemarks.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Wrote this poem for a friend who's doing a choreography on women, and having in the background pictures of mothers and daughters, but with all those mothers passed away. Could not think of how to word this, until I thought of my father... so this poem is dedicated to him.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">**************************************************************************************************</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Guru bhai aayo re!!!</span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Last year saw Munnabhai and <span style="font-style: italic;">Gandhigiri</span>, this year sees Gurukant Desai and <span style="font-style: italic;">Dhandagiri</span>!</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Caught 'Guru' over the weekend, and was surprised to actually get tickets so easily...Had heard so much from others that I didn't want to miss a chance to see it. I was not totally disappointed. Am not getting into details or the storyline, but will make a few observations.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- Mani Ratnam has created a larger than life image and picture. Good for him!</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- The setting and decor are well taken care of.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- Abhishek Bacchhan has done a good job. At times, his voice is so like Big B that I had to make an effort to realise this is the baby. But to give him credit, he has surpassed his father in this movie...</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- Ash can't act! Period. She's a pretty, make that extremely pretty face...and even Mani Ratnam could not manage getting the best of her. Although her dancing skills have improved tremendously.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- Saroj Khan's choreography is the same ghisa-pita one...nothing interesting and I also felt that it let down the magic of AR Rahman's voice and song of 'Tere bina'. And there are too many songs in the movie, which take away from it's essence- also the reality of the characters.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- The heroine was Mallika Sherawat- was a pleasure to see her move! :)</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- Gulzar (although I abs love that man!) is losing his touch- though there were few lines in some songs that were brilliantly put together.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">- The movie is about Dhirubhai Ambani all the way, inspite of the disclaimer put right at the beginning of the movie. They made a hero and a martyr of him, by acclaiming his methods of business done at any cost!</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">All in all, a movie worth a dekko- at least once!</span></span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-16160172336320469312007-01-06T00:09:00.000+05:302007-01-17T12:17:57.637+05:30<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >The edge of reason</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Have you ever been on the edge</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">of being alive or dead...</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">wanting to cross over, </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">to the other side,</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">just to know what could lie ahead? </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">What was it that stopped you then? </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The fear of knowing a fate irrevocable; </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">or a lack of courage...</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">that was greater </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">than the want so desirable.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Or was it a voice that called out to you?</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">That actually said nothing but you heard it somehow...</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">...a reassurance to your existence...</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">And maybe you stopped, only to turn to look at that noise </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">which seemed more exciting perhaps,</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">than to bear death's silence?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(C) lovemarks, 2007. </span></span>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22714197.post-1167292315977633532006-12-28T12:54:00.001+05:302007-01-17T12:18:24.089+05:30Is my country ashamed?<div style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Read a post on my friend <a href="http://anilthakraneyonsunday.blogspot.com/">Anil's</a> blog, about this young girl, all of 17 only, who was tied up, gang-raped, beaten up, brutally (to say the very least) murdered. Her corpse was raped again and bars were shoved in her genitals, and face disfigured. Her mother suffered the same consequence. Her brothers were beaten, disfigured and killed. And in full public view. The girl was <a href="http://calamur.org/gargi/2006/11/29/india/the-other-priyanka/">Priyanka Bhotmange,</a> and she was an ordinary girl like any of us, with dreams of studying more, becoming a cadet and living happily ever after.<br /><br />I read and re-read the post and all stories about her, saw some pictures that are making me cry even now... my skin crawled and I cringed trying to delete the scene from my mind. Yes, I want to erase all that I cannot bear, all that I don't want to know is happening around me, all that I know can happen to any one of us. I don't want to face the reality that this happened and it happened in this country and in my state.<br /><br />Why am I writing about this 3 months down the line after the incident? Because I live in a self-contained world, with my own 'problems' and am having a cushy life. And happened to read, in detail, about this girl only now.<br /><br />And do I care? Quite honestly, I don't know.... but then again, maybe, I do. Because I cannot explain why else am I feeling an immense anger that makes me want to castrate those men, cut off their limbs and leave them for dying. And also a terrible helplessness... for being who I am- a woman, who can be vulnerable at all times, never mind the fact who she is or how well-connected in society she is. Also not knowing what to do really.<br /><br />Above all, I am ashamed...for being part of a country that on one hand worships forms of women and on the other massacres their very being, for living in a society that allows these men to scott-free by hushing the case and destroying the evidence. For being part of the brigade that beyond feeling shocked, angered and sad, will not spend more time than necessary on Priyanka.<br /><br />And if this sounds like a confused post, it is.... because I don't know what I am feeling, where I stand and who I am</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> anymore.</span></div>Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17231015438073639431noreply@blogger.com3