Charminar Charms

There was one thing on my list that finally got crossed out this week. Since the time I have been in Hyderabad, I have wanted to visit Charminar during the month of Ramzan. The entire neighborhood comes to life at night after the fast is broken, in the days preceding the Id. It has a unique atmosphere that is specific to the season regardless of the time of year. I have thought about going there every year for the last five years at least. I was told that it is not safe, it is too crowded, there is nothing for me there since I don't eat mutton biryani and a myriad other reasons to stay away. And I heeded these words. Until this week.

On Tuesday night I spent the hours between 11 p.m. and 3 a.m. in the area around Charminar. I bought glass bangles at Laad Bazaar, picked up cheap chappals on the roadside and ate sinful chola bhatura. The place was lit up like a thousand Christmas trees. There were cartloads of fresh fruit and stores selling the seasonal haleem. Piles of clothes at bargain prices blocked the entrance to stores. Footwear in an astonishing range of colors and mind-boggling prices twinkled in the bright lights. You could engage in good-natured bargaining with the smiling vendors for chappals, crockery and jewelry at every step. Women in burkhas walked by while men in motorbikes ogled every woman without one. Young boys announced the latest discounts while college girls selected accessories with a vengeance.

Festive energy enveloped the place. An easy camaraderie seemed to permeate the streets. The Charminar was lit up for the occasion and looked like a new Chinese implant. The bangle seller tried to convince me about the novelty of his goods by saying that the only old thing in the neighborhood was the Charminar, everything else was brand new! We took pictures with our fancy cameras but no two-dimensional depiction could capture the enthusiasm of the shoppers or the incipient joy that underlined the streets.

I felt totally at home in the crowds. It was almost like a regular day in a Mumbai local train. With all the lights around, it seemed like 8 p.m., not midnight. I am not a night owl but the contagious energy of the masses seemed to move me for a few hours until it was time to grab some Famous icecream and return home. What a great way to participate in the spirit of Ramzan! I hope to do it again.

Clear answers

I missed my mother today. She passed away more than four years ago. I sense her absence often but miss her acutely on some days. Today was one such day.

Did something happen to trigger the feeling? Was I in need of advice? A lecture perhaps? A prescription to fix what was ailing me? Is there a pattern that I can discern in this occasional feeling of melancholy that grabs me and punches me hard in the abdomen when I feel the void? No clear answer comes to mind.

My mother and I grew close over the years but had a tumultuous relationship in my growing years. In many ways we were like chalk and cheese - she was a quiet diplomatic woman while I was an outspoken firebrand. She was a quintessential homemaker while I was the flag-waving activist. I looked outwards to conquer the world while she had the internal stillness that everyone craves for. Was she perfect? No. Was I flawed? Perhaps.

But she was always there for me. To discuss, to debate, to discover. To observe, to object. To understand. Very often our stands on most issues were contrary. But from this divergent viewpoint, we would speak - freely and without fear of judgment. Seldom did we get converted to the others viewpoint, but we always listened. Vexing questions, weighty decisions, huge obstacles, we wrestled with them all. As I became an adult, she did not tell me what to do, but showed what the consequences of my actions could be, leaving me alone to decide. All the practice made it easy for me when I did have to take major steps in life.

We are always at crossroads in life, some minor, some major. There are clues, and people to guide, but choose you must for you alone will walk that path. It is simpler to listen to those well-wishers who speak loudest and with the most conviction or to the majority. But who will be the contrarian then? The soft-spoken voice of reason. The one who flips over the coin to show the other side? Mother was that divergent voice for me. The one I had to work hardest to convince and in doing that I would convince myself.

So when no clear answer comes to mind. That is when I miss her the most. Like today.

Tread Softly - Book Review

I have been looking for a good Indian writer who writes with honesty, about life in contemporary India. A sensible urban story, not chick-lit, not Bollywood wannabe script. I read two books recently and I am sorry to say that the search still continues.

"Tread softly" by Nandita Bose is the story about Paroma, a small-town girl who finds herself marrying the older step-brother of the intended groom and finding herself in Kolkata in an unusually hostile home. She starts off as a typical "sati savitri" trying to put the house in order, cooking, cleaning, being a good "wife" in spite of not sharing the bedroom with Abhinn, her distant husband. Mamun, the spinster aunt constantly berates Paroma for being the stereotypical backward woman whom Abhinn was brought up to abhor. Even on her deathbed, the aunt engineers the proximity of the beautiful Geetika who willingly gravitates into her beloved nephew's arms. Paroma is a bundle of contradictions as she watches the drama, wanting to escape it while fearing the consequences if she returns to her parents home. But that does not seem to stop her from distancing herself from Abhinn, blinded by her self-righteousness. She leaves only to return, assuming Abhinn will help her establish a bookstore in his home, put up a facade of a normal marriage when her father shows up while she holds no such responsibility towards him. The second half of the book drags on with repeated instances of people stepping in and out of their lives. The dialog between the couple is regressive sometimes and plain illogical most of the time. Paroma argues well with Abhinn but is unable to sustain a life on her own. Abhinn is the good husband who is unable to get through to his wife. What a long winded story until the final expected ending!

The author has created layered characters but they don't seem to generate much sympathy in the reader. Parts of Paroma's character seem incoherent like much of the dialog. Abhinn is a wimpy goody goody character, sweet and difficult to digest.

Influence and inspiration

I watched "Ferrari ki sawaari" yesterday. A cute, feel-good movie, based on our national obsession, cricket. The final credits thanked Sachin Tendulkar for being an inspiration for kids. It is true. Sachin's phenomenal success has stirred the imagination of all wannabe cricketers, showing a path of possibility for the truly talented. Inspiration is essential. Inspiration is the equivalent of the magician's "abracadabra" that ignites motivation in an individual to act upon his calling.

I also watched Amir Khan's Satyamev Jayate this weekend. The topic was domestic violence and was handled in the characteristic format of bringing to light individuals who have suffered, those who can shed light on the matter and others who show a way out. Some members of the audience speak in what appears to be impromptu statements but is probably finely orchestrated to fit the format of the show. But I still love to watch the show with my daughter and discuss the topic again, sometimes while watching the late night repeat. By bringing subjects like dowry, female foeticide, abuse and violence to mainstream television, Amir Khan has managed to shine a light on issues that we seldom discuss openly. These are issues that plague our country, across states, religions and social class. These are the stains on the image of "India shining" that the world sees. Like other countries, we have our social problems, compounded by the size of our population. But brushing it under the carpet has been the way we like to deal with it. Educated, informed people make choices every day that fuel the greed for dowry, that favor boys over girls, that systematically encourage violence against women. To change society, what we need is not just the occasional inspiring story, but a voice that influences choices and behaviors. A sustained debate, a possible solution, a tangible helping hand. The mass appeal of television can be channeled to encourage public discussion on topics that are not popular. But for people to listen, the spokesperson has to be one who has the charisma and the conscience to build the confidence of the audience. With his work and his image, Amir Khan does that, easily. While it may be easy for him to portray an image of earnestness considering his acting abilities, it is definitely not a popular choice for an actor to be typecast as a "do-gooder".

I am glad that Amir chose to host this show. While I am inspired by his decision to take up a task which no other Bollywood actor chose to do, I am happy to see today's youth being influenced by the sentiments expressed in the show. Whether its inspiration that brings about an individual change or influence that motivates social upheaval, one thing that is not up for debate is the fact that it is time for a change.

The tourist and the traveller

"The traveller sees what he sees. The tourist sees what he has come to see", said the quote by G.K. Chesterton, on the Lonely Planet bookmark. One week after my return from a 15-day trip to Europe, the quote aptly sums up what I feel.

It was a whirlwind tour, or so it seems in retrospect. Italy, Switzerland, France and Belgium; numerous hotel rooms, innumerable train rides, unfamiliar languages and unforgettable experiences comprised the European holiday. If you ask me the short version, here are the top 10 things I remember:
1. Pizza, pasta non-stop
2. Gelato everyday
3. Playing cards on Eurostar
4. Grandeur of Rome
5. Canals of Venice
6. Lakes and mountains of Switzerland
7. Filter coffee in Paris
8. Warm Belgian waffles and icecream in Brussels
9. Chocolates and tiramisu
10. Walking, walking, walking

It was a fun fortnight. Great company; fantastic weather. The holiday included help from the travel agent for hotel and train bookings but we were on our own for local sightseeing. Did we see everything there is to see? Probably not. But did I get a feel for the new places that I had visited. Definitely yes. Its easy to get carried away by ambitious sight-seeing plans, packed itineraries and tiring days. Our days were full, when we were not seeing places, we were going places, literally, dragging out suitcases across train stations, poring over bus routes in new cities, asking for directions to strangers who did not speak English and finally crashing into beds in different hotels every third night. But we could chose our daily outings. We picked the place where we ate our meals. On many days we made sandwiches in the train, munched on juicy strawberries for dessert and ate ice-cream for an afternoon snack. That is how we came across lip-smacking pasta, melt-in-the mouth pizza and heavenly gelato in unpretentious eating places.

We took some organized tours - a day trip to Naples and the ruins of Pompei with Wilma as our tour guide, a guided our of the Vatican museums with Marco and saw the leaning tower of Pisa with Ricardo, the flirt. We had our share of adventures as well - finding out that the hotel booked for us in Venice was 100 km away from the gondolas, two youngsters in our group of six getting left behind on a platform in Paris, losing the key to a suitcase, misplacing sweaters/jackets. But there were no major mishaps. And many memorable moments.

At the top of the list are:
1. The symmetry of the spiral staircase in the Vatican
2. Being referred to as "Shahrukh Khan family" while waiting to get into the basilica in Florence by a street vendor
3. Seeing signs in Hindi on top of snow-covered Mount Titlis
4. Sliding down in snow tubes along with other "Aunties and Uncles" in Switzerland
5. Early morning in the Pantheon
6. Flea market at Montreaux
7. Waving to a family on the lakeside at Interlaken
8. The gentle clang of bells on the Swiss cows
9. Talking to the non-singing gondolier, Antonio
10.Learning about Belgian chocolates from Thomas at the Godiva store near Mannekin Pis
11. Wanting to work at UN for two reasons - to make a difference to the world and for the wonderful view of Lake Geneva from the corridors

Being a tourist is hard work, as demonstrated by the bus loads of Indian tourists who thronged many of the same places that we visited. But being a traveller is more interesting. Traveling is more of a two-way interaction. It is an experience, not just a visual treat. I have been to Paris at least twice before and I know I am not inclined to visit again but Rome, is another story. I know for sure I want to live there, not just scratch the surface as I did this time. Belgian beckons, as well.

I like going to new places. But now I have tasted the distinction between being a tourist and being a traveller. I want to be the latter. And I will. Where will I travel to next?

As Paul Theroux says, "Tourists don't know where they've been, travellers don't know where they're going."

Education and the arts

I attended a Bharat Natyam arangetram last night. The artist who was making her debut as a professional dancer, Aditi, is the daughter of a relative of mine. The Guru was Padmasri Dr. Ananda Shankar, a well-known dancer in Hyderabad. The hall was full and we entered as the introductory speech led to the stirrings of the live orchestra. It was an engrossing two-hour performance and Aditi held the interest of the audience for the entire duration. She has an expressive face and a stamina that belies her petite form. The musical support was excellent and the preface to each item, provided by Ananda Shankar set the tone for what was to come.

At the end, a few words were said by the Guru not just about the student but also about art in general. She gave credit to the parents for honoring the dancing potential of their daughter by enabling her passion. As per rough statistics, she pointed out that across various genres of classical dance forms all across the country, if one were to count the number of artists,they would add up to no more than 5000 - 10,000. What an abysmally small number for a country of a 1.2 billion people, a country that boasts of a great heritage in the fine arts?

The reason for this poor showing is the popular craze among parents of this generation to make doctors and engineers out of their children regardless of their innate talents and aptitude. In the quest for such degrees, no effort or expense is spared. Entire childhoods are sacrificed at the altar of these ambitions. Seldom do parents indulge the natural talents of their children particularly if it goes against the common grain. A society composed entirely of engineers and doctors would be an empty one if there was no value for the arts. Pursuit of natural talents, honing of innate artistic abilities, brings a joy and completion to one's life purpose, even if we don't pursue it professionally. Creativity is its own reward. Not every dancer can win a Padmasri and not every artist may reach the stature of M.F. Hussain but every time a girl with a graceful step prepares to dance even if only to reduce the stress of a working day or a boy picks up a brush to paint from his imagination, the world is a better place. How? As each person pursues their inherent ability to create, the resulting sense of well-being is communicated by the person and his art. In this stressful world of ours, if we are to feel good about ourselves, we need creative outlets that the arts provide.

But time is in short supply. How do I learn these creative techniques? The answer lies in prioritizing. We all are allotted the same amount of time each day that we live. If we put individual well-being on the top of our list, I am sure time will be available. For me the first place to start is to participate in such live cultural events that drive home the point that life is not just about degrees and paychecks. I choose to spend Saturday evening at a music or dance recital and appreciate the arts. Next step would be to try it myself. And then to encourage my child to do the same.

Under water

I have a new goal this summer - learning to swim. There are some items that have been on my "to-do" list for decades and this is one of them. I don't particularly have a phobia for water and it seemed like a cool thing to learn. The barriers however, were many, beginning with the lack of a swimming pool that was conveniently located, inhibition in wearing a swimsuit, finding a suitable coach and of course, the usual excuse - I just don't have time for this. When the time is right, most excuses simply vanish (or should I say, dissolve?).

I have a pool in the building where I now live. I bought a modest swimsuit that suits my sensibilities. My daughter is my coach. And I truly do have the time now. As I always say, there are a 100 reasons to NOT do something. There is only one reason do something - because you want to. Right now, I want to learn to swim.

Aparna has been a great teacher so far. I am her first student and she is amazingly intuitive in breaking it down to small steps and incredibly patient. As adults, we snap much more at children when they fail to master what appears to be simple tasks to us grownups. Add to that the emotionally charged atmosphere of a parent-child relationship. It is almost as bad as your spouse teaching you to drive a car. But when the child teaches, perhaps there is something about this upside-down situation that removes the obstacles.

I remember taking Aparna to the local pool 3 days a week from age 2 to 6 to first learn and then master swimming. I had noticed her comfort when immersed in water at her first bath in the initial two weeks of her life. She was happy to jump into the pool and obediently followed the instructions of the youngsters who served as coaches for little kids in the Santa Clara pool in California. She would come out happy, tired and extremely hungry. In the car on the way back home, she would gobble the food, drink juice and fall asleep. It took a lot of effort for me to make time on weekday evenings after work to ensure she did not miss any classes. But today, when I see her swimming so effortlessly I feel so happy and proud. Not of her talent or my contribution but the fact that when a natural talent is honed, it brings joy to the person and to others as well. Although there were years when she did not get into a pool, she takes to the water like a fish, each time she has the opportunity. Quite often Aparna is asked by total strangers if she competes in swimming meets.

Now the roles are reversed and she is leading me. What better way for me to try my hand (and feet) at something new. I would like to put new things on my to-do list once this one gets crossed off.