To god's own country

This new year I visited Kerala for the first time with my family - given what I had heard/seen/read about it, this was shamefully overdue. We took advantage of the very convenient invention of the travel gurus - aka 'package tours' which have completely invaded the tourism landscape in the past 10 years. They get you to enjoy all that is great about traveling minus the hassles, essentially all the non-fun stuff is transferred to the tour operator for a good compensation.

We left the cold confines of delhi weather the moment we entered the portals of the brand new IGI airport and then there was no looking back, at least for the coming 5 days. The flight on the spicejet airlines was quite smooth (even the overpriced coffee served in the aircraft was reasonable) except for the boring one hour 'inside-the plane' stopover at Mumbai's chhatrapati shivaji airport. But that's the charm of traveling with ma's- and-pa's - it never ceases to amaze me how much food the deceptively little bag carried by my mother can accommodate! I employed myself gainfully by eating all that I can for a substantial part of the hour long transit. For the remaining time on my flight, I fought hard to keep up with my reputation of a 'phoren-returned desi' and cover my almost rudimentary (non-existential might be more appropriate actually!) knowledge of angrezi songs in front of my highly informed brother who oblivious to the pleasures of food and my plight, kept asking me about rock bands which I had never ever heard of in my mortal life!

The next whiff of fresh air was at the Kochi International airport. It is a really small but functional place. The first glimpse of Kerala lifestyle was just there- `keep it simple' - and this way of living made itself evident to us in varied ways in the coming days. After getting our boria-bistar (Indians can't travel light!), we had a driver waiting for us with a car. He was a shy and soft-spoken guy named Joseph. As we drove to our first stop located in the Munnar hills, we discovered that he belongs to kochi itself and drives tourists like us around in peak seasons. Our drive through the coconut-trees lined roads was a very charming one. As we went up the hills, the coconut trees made way for shorter and thicker shrubs which were finally replaced with the beautiful and dense tea gardens. They are really a site - entire slopes of these hills are covered with carpets of tea leaves which were in full bloom then. The aroma could be felt even in the air and it had a quality of freshness which a delhite like me finds difficult to describe. Our resort was the topmost one on the hills and completely enlivened its name 'Misty Mountains'. From the hotel porch, we could actually see the clouds almost touching the lush green carpet of tea gardens underneath making the horizon one continuous fabric. A plaque in the reception area announced that the resort owed its exotic location to the tastes of British officers who frequented it during torrid summer months in South India. We had a fantastic pair of rooms to ourselves which were equipped with all the good saas-bahu channels besides a string of `Sun-TV', `Vijay TV', 'Surya-TV'...all showing south Indian songs. I settled for the latter kind just out of curiosity initially and was contemplating the natural resonance frequency of the jarring pelvic thrusts of dancers before my brother opened revolt and switched to sports...how unimaginative !

We shelved our plans to roam around the markets in the evening and instead decided to relax for the remaining part of the day. The only other thing which rivaled for attention with the beautiful locales surrounding the hotel was the brilliant food (I love south indian food anyways,!) . The dinner comprising a cocktail of chinese, north indian and south indian cuisines was great. The following morning an even better meal awaited us - I had a mouthful of the soft idlis and amazing chutneys and dived on the crisp dosas subduing all internal protests. After the delectable breakfast, we drove to the Eravikulam national sanctuary which is the only home to Nilgiri Tahr - a kind of horned deer. We left our car with Joseph and took the shuttle ride which ferries tourists to a point on the hilly route leading up to the reserve. This ride gave some breathtaking shots for our memories. Post this, we walked up the remaining distance to reach the park, where contrary to my expectations and their endangered status, Nilgiri Tahrs were not only easily visible but seemed pretty interested in getting photographed with the tourists. (I have been to N number of national parks doing crow watching and came back believing that the rare specimen I actually wanted to see was asleep around some corner!). Our rendezvous with the Niligiri tahr was followed by a drive to Mattupetty lake and dam, located 13kms from Munnar. It is a nice touristy site with lots of small shops and a beautiful view.

Following a drive through the markets, where my father stocked the specialties of the region (spices, tea, sandalwood, banana chips etc. etc.) for himself and at least 10 links down the family bloodline we came back to our rooms after a long and exhilarating day. The following morning, we started our drive towards our next stop - the town of Thekkadi. We almost felt a sense of surreal attachment with the nature's bounty around us while driving out of Munnar. Joseph informed us that Nilgiri range or the blue mountains (of which Munnar forms a part) are called so because of `Neelakurinji' - a kind of rare blue flower which blooms on these hills every 12 years. After a drive of around 4 hours we reached Silver Crest - our abode for the next 24 hrs in Thekkadi. It was on the opposite end of spectrum with respect to our experience in Munnar . Located in the busiest place of the city, buzzing with people, and different shades of life all there - together and disparate at the same time. It was quite a remarkable contrast and we thoroughly enjoyed it. Our hotel too contributed to this flavor of life - while the misty mountain resort had the kind of elegance of a resort of an erstwhile empire, the hotel at Thekkadi with different blocks of rooms sharing a common square courtyard felt more like a large family home in suburban India.

Our last and final stop was the village of Kumarakom, located in the world-famous backwaters. The resort where we stayed was called waterscapes - located on the banks of Vembanad lake inside the Kumarakom Bird Sanctuary, it draws migratory birds from as far away as Siberia. We did not spot any siberian intruders, but the resort was breathtaking - yes just the resort! For a government owned and managed resort, it was surprisingly well kept. The 'rooms' were actually independent huts which stood on stilts and gave the impression of tree houses amidst the surrounding mangrove vegetation. We had two neighboring huts booked in our name with conveniences to match the most elite hotels I have ever been to. Still, it never obscured the charming simplicity intricately woven into the Kerala lifestyle. After a short and amazing north indian lunch (both men in our family are ardent admirers and begin to show withdrawal symptoms from food if kept away from their staple diets), we went for a boat ride in the backwaters. It was a lazy ride in the almost still waters lined by local villages on each side. Looking at the simple villagers going around with their usual daily tasks, untouched by the fact that their haven of existence can be a tourist attraction to millions around the world and exchanging a smile with any face that cares to look upon them was the most unique experience. It was like seeing a live panorama of life at its simplest and probably the happiest too.

After pulling ourselves back up to the hotel (unwillingly), we enjoyed a very nice musical program organized by the local artists. They played some very famous old bollywood tunes on different kinds of flutes and mridangam which made them sound as melodious or more than the original. It is amazing how talent sprouts in most unassuming and unexpected places.

I had a very good sleep that night but was a bit grumpy to leave the next morning. Alas, time to say a goodbye to god's own country. I know I am definitely coming back though!

Thoda music ho jaaye...

Indian politics is second only to aka bollywood in providing masala for otherwise monotonous lives of ordinary indians. Just in this league, the latest comes from Nitin Gadkari, the newly elected president of BJP. He sang to a surprised audience at the party's conclave in Indore with the yesteryear song Zindagi kaisi hai paheli haaye... waah waah! In general, he sang to a different tune otherwise too with comments like we will help muslims build a mosque in return of generosity of sentiments... more waah waahs! Good to hear a singing voice from the asphyxiated BJP ...

But that led me thinking how entertaining it would be if all our election campaigns, parliamentary proceedings and thousands of politburo meetings of hundreds of indian political parties make this a routine affair. Being a responsible citizen, I have a few musical suggestions for our netas:

Manmohan Singh - Ye honsla kaise jhuke, ye aarzoo kaise ruke...

Sonia Gandhi - Saare deewane mane Na dekhi koi aisi girl
Dekhi lakh lakh pardesi girl, Ain’t nobody like my desi girl

P. Chidambram - Suno, kaho - kaha suna,
kucch hua kya - Abhi to nahi, kucch bhi nahi..???
(in wake of yet another terror attack catching us unawares, in spite of the warnings !)

L. K. Advani - Chhod aaye hum woh galiyan, ...

Rajnath Singh (the outgoing BJP chief) - Chingari koi bhadke, to saawan use bhujaye
saawan jo aag lagaye use kaun bhujaye
(so much for BJP infighting...alas!)


Rest of India to Raj Thackeray et. al. - 'pardesiya', pardesiya ye sach hai piya,
ki mumbai is still a part of india ....

and the good old ............

Laloo Prasad Yadav - Main aisa kyun hoon, main aisa kyun hoon
Main jaisa bhi hoon waisa kyun hoon

How about passing a bill in the parliament on this?... Aye Aye Mr. Speaker Sir.

New Year Trip to Haridwar

Alright, I am back. I did not blog for over three months (my god!) and little did I hear from people that they missed me writing. So I felt that it's time to pack my books, take charge of the keyboard and knock my words down your throats once again ... hence here am I whizzing my cursor across the screen.

The past months have been quite eventful and it will need me to open anther account to pen all the reminiscences. I got busier with research - learned some scanning electron microscopy which is used to write structures as small as my patience with yet another 'bharatvasi' referring to avatar as ewat-(-as-in-tomato)-aar, cryogenics to keep the dilution refrigerators as cold as the feelings of Raj Thackeray towards the rest of India outside Mumbai, and some pulse engineering used to engineer microwave pulses as sharp and precise as shahrukh's comments regarding the current feud about non-inclusion of Pakistani players in IPL teams. What a list!

Amidst all this business I did something heavenly - traveled back home and visited Kerala for the first time besides revisiting our favorite family vacation spot Haridwar. I thought a good way to start my blog in this new year is to share these experiences with you.

So let's talk about haridwar first (Kerala trip deserves to be a separate blog). Our short but memorable trip began on a foggy Friday morning, with clouds racing against our car and emerging clear winners. On the pretext of waiting for the struggling sun to emerge, and in reality propelled by the mouth-watering billboards of roadside dhabas we stopped at a small little hotel for a break and breakfast. The walls scrawled with an assortment of ads about 'pepsi cola' in bright red blue and orange colors greeted us in the modest setting. We ordered a generous serving of various kind of stuffed paranthas with tea and coffee (didn't know that starbucks has arrived in the indian dhaba culture too). The results were exotic and everyone overate without exception. We topped our overstuffed bodies with black-forest cake which we were carrying as it was one of our friend's birthday.

We continued our journey with aching stomachs and smiling faces interspersed with a few leg stretching breaks for the welfare of 6 feet talls cribbing constantly on being crammed in a place half their length (dont give too much attention in case you encounter similar phenomena while traveling- in fact it is a useful tactic to keep people awake and hence keep the boredom away till you get hoarse singing antakshari songs/ threatened to be dropped off from the car by others with aching heads). Our next stop was for lunch in a much seedier shop where we feasted on dal roti and an assortment of indian vegetables.

It took us another two hours to reach the Jairam ashram in Haridwar which was our abode for the next two days. It is one of the oldest and the best in its league. I would strongly recommend staying at one of the beautiful ashrams lining the banks of ganga near har ki paudi as a must-have experience. And given the facilities they cost just as much as a hearty meal at McDonald's for a day, making them quite a deal! We booked four rooms for our contingent - each of which had an austere but functional furnishing with cold beds (dat made us request them for 8 extra blankets which were arranged promptly). After relaxing for a few hours we went down the ghats and strolled in the market with my mother buying a beautiful shawl for herself and wrapping herself right away to beat the cold - the chill there had taken us by surprise but the energy and the warmth typical of any indian religious destination remained undiluted. We had a reasonable dinner at the famous chotiwala's - there are so many of them these days each proclaiming themselves as the 'pracheen aur mashhoor' (meaning ancient and popular) chotiwala that it is impossible to tell one from the other. While coming back I saw many sweet shops with piles of laddoos, rabri and all those sinful indian delicacies one can never get enough of, and made a solemn promise to myself of coming back the next day.

I started my day early the next day, listening to the temple bells of morning prayers and the fantastic tea made by the chaiwala at the ashram. This was followed by a walk around the ashram which was spent appreciating the artistic murals adorning its various corners and depicting some or the other story from indian scriptures. Post this we energized (I did not want to use the word stuff for the third time) ourselves with more paranthas, makkhan and even more cups of chai accompanying them (on the last count I had at least 5 cups of that amazing tea that morning) at the ashram bhojnalaya and set off for our next destination - Rajaji National Park, famous for wild asian elephants. It is spread over an area of 820.42 sq. km and is a home to 23 species of mammals, along with 315 species of birds, like the Asian elephants, tigers, king Cobra, panther, bear, chital, sambar, wild boar, kakar, python, monitor Lizard etc. etc. So much from the website - we did spot a few of the above in the nondangerous variety and some sweet little birds but the jeep safari itself is too much fun even if you are like me and start scanning the ground when someone yells 'hey look at that bird!'. And if you do not spot an elephant which really depends on their mood (which I am sure will be tricky to guess), there is provision for elephant rides just outside the park where you can pretend that you really are sitting on a wild elephant just tamed into submission by your infinite bravery. I resisted the temptation as I was not entirely sure of the mood of even that tamed huge fellow.

After lunch we had a welcome card-playing break in which I was introduced to a new card game - I managed to make a respectable comeback after a torturous start. In the evening we went to the world-famous har ki pauri well ahead of time for ganga arti and hence were able to get vantage seats unlike the last evening. We stationed ourselves on the opposite bank from where the artiis are performed every evening. It is a breathtaking view really - if there is one thing you should not miss on traveling to India, this is it. The infinite number of colorful heads which dot the banks of ganges amidst the chants of 'har har gange' and the big flames which are swung rhythmically in a synchronous fashion by the priests is a rare spectacle. After this ethereal experience, we went ahead for fulfilling more mundane concerns like hunger and gulped down samosas and rabri in the adjoining bazaar. I also gave in to my poorly-concealed temptation and ended up buying a set of red and green bangles from one of the numerous glittering shops.

After shoving the elders in rickshaws the rest of us had a lazy walk back to the ashram, where we spent our last night of this amazing trip in the now-warm beds.

Wish some things never change...

P.S.: Promised: I am not sure if blogspot allows pics to be uploaded - if it does, I have some beautiful shots which will find their way in this article in not so distant future ! .. Delivered :)

When does unfair start becoming fair?

Hello fellow-bloggers

We have a new contributor to this blog now - my dear friend Nishant. I think the more the number of contributors , the more varied the opinions, the less chances of this blog being one-man/woman's trumpet. Keep reading/writing.

Cheers
Archie

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There is no doubt that we have been living in a male-dominated society since mankind (see what I mean … I should say humankind) has been around. This has of course been unfair to women; they have been suppressed until very recently, though this still continues in many parts of the world. History has taught us that any kind of suppression has always created problems. In today’s world I think such problems are visible, though they are very subtle.

Men have enjoyed unquestioned authority for ages. Naturally this has led to evils such as exploitation of women (e.g. not allowing them to have careers of their own), and accepted norms like women leaving their home after marriage to live with their husbands. As a result, the society expects men to be the heads of families, bringing in money to support the family. In such a situation, women who do succeed in making a career of their own, have to yet deal with another problem, typically an ego/chauvinism issue – if their husband is less successful than them. This is again extremely unfair to women.

In today’s world, I believe, these problems have manifested themselves in such a way that the situation has started to reverse, although probably very locally. What I mean is that men are generally assumed to be less trustworthy than women, they are assumed to have ego problems and to be chauvinistic. I’ll give a few examples (1) If a marriage breaks, it is generally thought that it must have been the man’s fault. (2) Let us suppose you have a friend who is a girl. She falls in love with a boy of another caste, and they both hope to get married. Suddenly the boy’s parents refuse to allow inter-caste marriage, and so the boy calls off the wedding. You may feel that the boy is a … and he should have known this before falling in love and making promises. Now let us reverse the situation. Your friend (who is still the girl) calls off the wedding because her parents refused to an inter-caste marriage. Would you call the girl a … or will you sympathize with her? (3) If a woman says “I want to be more successful than my husband”, this is interpreted as she does not want to be known by her husband’s name, she is ambitious, she may be head-strong, etc. If, on the other hand, a man says “I want to be more successful than my wife”, this is generally interpreted as – what a male-chauvinistic pig!

Now the above examples may seem to suggest that I feel that the society is being unfair to men. Well … yes, but they deserve it right? They are the ones who claimed superiority, and they are the ones who started exploiting women. But do all men deserve this, even those who do not have ego issues, who are not chauvinistic, and who completely love their wife and family? I guess the answer should be that not all men deserve this, exactly as women do not deserve the treatment they have got in the past, and continue to get in many places today. It seems to me to be a situation like men dug a pit for women and are falling in it themselves today. Some people may call this fair, others may call it unfair. But I think it is just unfortunate – the society needs to be more balanced when it comes to men and women for the benefit of BOTH!

The Time Traveler's Wife

Media: Movie
Genre: Pathetic

Okay, I really wanted to write something on the blog. A new month has started and as it is unrolling, I see I'll find less and less time to wag my tongue online. So I thought that I might as well indulge in this soothing exercise of blogging right away and write about something even if it is pitiful. So it is about this movie which I watched with my friend at a Mall a few weeks ago -- recently released, and non-conventional title. I was intrigued...

It is a movie about this guy who time travels, all over the place without control. And when he does so in his hurry he leaves behind his clothes..captivating hunh (?). He starts this habit of 'never being in time' as a child when he time travels out of car in which he is traveling with his mother. The car gets crashed in an accident but he time travels and saves himself (after watching the movie you'd wish that he didn't). And then we all know, bad habits die hard... and so he continues...meets his wife when she is a child, forgets her when she actually grows up and meets him, then goes back in time and meets her again in childhood, in the meantime his older self returns and gets married to his wife when actually he should be marrying him - what? ..........whatever! And the mystery continues - mystery of what was the story writer thinking when he was writing this crap. (may be was also a traveler from his kindergarten past trying to write a Hollywood flick). And it does not end there - his baby also keeps traveling out of his wife's womb leading to miscarriages...yuck!

Still I sat through this.... only to end up wishing ardently that I could also travel back in time to stop myself from buying the tickets and put my money to some good use instead..cheers to another bag of popcorn (without the movie of course!).

Unaccustomed Earth

Media: Book
Author: Jhumpa Lahiri
Genre: Fiction

I had resigned myself to spend long hours at the San Francisco International airport. I was tired after a long and hectic day and was hoping to catch up with some good sleep on my flight. The announcement that my flight would get delayed by a good three and a half hours made me resume my battle against boredom half-heartedly. I was browsing through news-stands for some beam of interest to save myself from falling into usual torpor of such situations when I came across this one. I have not really followed Lahiri's work in any depth though she is frequently credited with churning out bestsellers.

It is a collection of short stories centered around NRIs, mainly people of West Bengal in India, and their experiences on the U.S. continent (Lahiri is from Bengal herself and currently lives in Brooklyn , NY). It makes for a tolerable read. I quite liked the first story and it remained my favorite of the collection even after finishing the book. The author is definitely adept at capturing emotional dilemmas and intricacies of human mind and heart. The last three stories which form the second part of the book are also quite moving. They are independent accounts of experiences of two characters - Hema and Kaushik. Eventually the reader discovers deep connections in their stories as their paths cross unexpectedly.

I will recommend this book for a one-time read. But like many others in its league, it brought me yet again to this unanswered question - do the stories that aim to touch our heart necessarily need to be sad ... ? Most of them failed to do so but I still wasn't able to have a sound sleep on my flight.

Banker to the Poor

Media: Book
Author: Muhammad Yunus
Genre: Non-fiction

This was a present from my family on my M.S. graduation. The book is the story of an idea that started small and evolved into a movement, that aims to provide a novel economic solution to one of the most practical problems of the world --- poverty! The crux of this tale is about provision and impact of microfinance for the poor --- the idea that a little and timely help to the poorest of the poor can help them break the vicious circle of poverty and lead a life of dignity is really quite simple and practical. However, it has more to it and hence I abstained from restricting it to the genre of books on rich theories of microeconomics.

The first two chapters are totally autobiographical in nature. The childhood reminiscences of author leave you with a Malgudi-day like feeling (most of us R.K. Narayan fans would be familiar with this). The tale is so simply and wonderfully told that I didn't feel even a tinge of bitterness at the author's description (then a child) of partition of India in 1947 amidst chants of Pakistan Zindabad. He amalgamates you completely in his journey and you are hooked.

The real story of Grameen Bank* - the movement which has lifted millions of people out of poverty since its inception - starts in chapter 3 with author's return to Bangladesh in late 70s. You and I who have the luxury of reading and writing blogs in our spare time without worrying about two square meals a day are introduced to an existence which has to battle, struggle and win over the threats imposed by ruthless poverty everyday. The evolution of Grameen, starting from a small project in the village of Jobra to an international movement covering 2.5 million people worldwide is charted out with the ingenuity of a master storyteller. (You have to trust me for that, I am the first one to doze off on seeing reams of data and figures .) The author weaves an engaging tale of human triumph over the most hostile circumstances with application of concepts of banking and microeconomics as aides in this battle against poverty - of course with a twist. The reader is able to maintain the same level of involvement with the narrative be it the description of extraordinary lives of the ordinary people which were touched and changed by the Grameen movement or an account of bureaucratic and financial hurdles Grameen had to overcome to reach where it is today (anyone who has walked the official corridors in India would be painfully aware of this).

It also breaks some important and persistent myths, - I subscribed to some of them too before reading this book. For instance, contrary to the popular perception the repayment rate of loans by the poor is the highest. Most of us suffer from a subtle social arrogance which may sometimes manifest itself as distributing cash or alms to underprivileged on religious occasions or the like and any thought of such people recompensing our 'charity' is almost unthinkable. This book gives a reality check - the poor can be most ardent of workers and most faithful borrowers. They respect and cling to a ray of hope which can pull them out of their harsh reality and this makes them infallible to many temptations which, in fact, the privileged lot is more susceptible to.

I think this book should be read by one and all . Even if someone is not interested in the philanthropic aspects, it surely holds some lessons for all of us.



* 'Grameen' is a Hindi word which means 'of the village' (village is called 'Gram' in Hindi).